10. Juliet
10
JULIET
I t takes me until the second week of school to realize that Principal Long did me a favor by putting me in ISS for four days. Because other than day one, the first week goes by without much fanfare. It’s a pretty solid routine: go to school, do my assignments, get out, go job hunting, get turned down. Eat a shitty dinner. Try to sleep through the nightmares. Wake up tired as fuck. Rinse and repeat.
With it having been the first week of school, there was no one else in the ISS classroom with me. I was alone, save for the older substitute tasked with making sure I showed up and completed my assignments. It was actually kind of nice, and I have to wonder if I could make some sort of deal to just do this for the whole year, but I doubt it. At least, I managed to get ahead of most of my classes in terms of assignments and reading.
The second week, even though Megan is a nonissue because she’s serving her time, is different. I finally get my locker number and code only to find that the info has been leaked and the inside has already been decorated with trash. I scowl as the metal door swings open and toilet paper falls out, landing on my sneakers. A used wad of gum pulls away from the inside, making long-ass strings of the pinkish-white substance stretch in front of my face.
“Trash deserves trash, after all.” Someone laughs.
“Ew, what’s that smell? Is that the locker or is it just her?”
So, it begins. I inhale and then slowly close the locker without doing anything else. Turning away, I look down and grimace, toeing away a wad of what looks like used toilet paper. If I have to carry my books around every day, so fucking be it.
I get maybe two yards down the hallway when a girl steps in front of me. I recognize her instantly as one of the girls who’d been with Megan the first day. She’s tall and lanky with stick straight brassy hair and a nose ring. I contemplate just ripping out the piercing and seeing what happens. Hearing her scream in pain as I walk away would be like music to my ears, but I promised myself I would get through this school year flying under the radar.
I go to step around her only for her to move back into my path. I sigh. “Do you really want to do this?” I ask her, looking up as she crosses her arms and leans closer. “Really? After what happened last week with your friend?”
“If you make a mess, you should clean it up,” the girl says in response.
“Excuse me?” I arch a brow at her and she nods behind me.
I glance back, where there’s still a pile of trash and toilet paper sitting outside of my locker. “Maybe you’re not used to it since you used to have our parents clean up after you, but things are different now, bitch. Go clean up your mess.”
Slowly, I pivot to face her once more. “And what if I don’t?” I prompt.
Both of her eyes widen as if she hadn’t expected that response, but she quickly regains her confidence, scowling down at me. “Then maybe we’ll make you.”
“ We ?” The second the word slips out of my lips I feel both of my arms jerk behind my back. The books I’d been holding clatter to the floor and the lanky bitch kicks them away. Looking to either side, I spot the second girl from Megan’s little trio and another I don’t recognize. Just great.
My lips part, but before I can utter a single word, I’m dragged back down the hallway in the direction of my locker. Once there, the girls shove me, face first, into the row of brown metal doors and laugh.
“Now,” Lanky bitch says, pointing to the ground, “clean up your mess.”
I right myself and turn around. My backpack pokes into my spine, so I carefully slip my arms free and set it on the ground. I crack my neck to one side, lift my gaze, and glare at her. “ No. ”
One word. Full of hatred. Full of meaning. Full of my own internal desire for these people to fuck the hell off and leave me alone. Her face pinches and the amused confidence she’d had when she knew she was backed up by two others fades ever so slightly. What I don’t understand is how she could anticipate another reaction when she’d been witness to what happened in the cafeteria days before.
She steps forward, between her friends, and opens her mouth just as someone else appears around the corner. “Teachers are coming.” Lanky bitch scowls at her friend’s words and moves back automatically.
“Scared of being caught?” I taunt her.
Lanky bitch points her finger at me. “Don’t think this is over,” she snaps. “Your year at Silverwood Public is going to get fucking worse, bitch. We suggest you drop out now.”
I smile at her angry expression and wave as her friends look up and down the hallway. “See you in class,” I say pleasantly.
She scoffs and turns away, whipping her hair over her bony shoulder and strutting off as if she’s trying to pop a hip out of joint. My hand drops back to my side. I’m almost sad that our little fight was disrupted. As much as I’d like to not get into trouble with the administration again, I’m not going to sit back and let anyone think they can fuck me over. Not anymore.
I bend down, lift my bag, and swing it over my shoulder, almost clipping the girl who’d delivered the warning in the side. She jumps back and eyes me cautiously. Now that Lanky and Moody are both gone, the rest of the students have moved along and the hallway is quickly emptying. I give her a once over, noting the soft upturned tilt of her nose, her full cheeks with a smattering of freckles, and the golden blonde hair that cascades over her shoulders.
“The teachers aren’t actually coming,” she says quietly.
I pause and look back at her with a frown. Unsure of how else to answer, I arch a brow and offer, “Okay?”
She bites down on her lip and ducks her head. “Sorry, I just thought you should know that you don’t need to run or anything. They’re not coming—Lindsey and her friends won’t come back though.” She looks like a small animal with the way she avoids my gaze, but still, she doesn’t turn tail and run, so maybe there’s more of a core of steel in her than at first glance.
I tilt my head at her. “Am I supposed to thank you for saving me?”
Her head lifts again and light blue eyes widen up at me. “Oh no, that’s not what I meant—I just…” She drifts off and her shoulders sag. “Sorry, I’ll go now.”
The short blonde turns and strides off, her head and shoulders low as she moves. I find myself watching her with a mixture of rising frustration and confusion. With a huff, I turn and head in the opposite direction even knowing that it means I’ll be taking the long way to my next class. I don’t want to see her. Knowing she tried makes me suspicious, but her response to my vitriol stirred guilt in me and Silverwood Public is no place for that shit.
Two periods later, a familiar figure drops down into the seat next to me in English Lit and leans over. “Heard you had a savior today.” Roquel’s curious tone only serves to aggravate the recently abated irritation.
I blow out a long breath. No matter what I do, I can't seem to get away from her. “I’m so not in the mood.”
If my tone is a warning, she ignores it. “Kinda sweet if you ask me. Madison Torres doesn’t talk to anyone anymore, not after last year. I think she felt bad for you because she knows how it feels to be the school outcast.”
“Her pity is none of my business and I don’t need it.”
“Aren’t you curious, though?” Roquel presses. “I mean why would anyone in this school feel bad for you after everything that’s happened?”
She’s right. It doesn’t make sense, but I guess even rotten trees can produce a few good apples. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Is there a point to you annoying the shit out of me or are you just here for shits and giggles?” I demand.
Roquel’s laugh is like wind chimes, light and pleasant. “Just curious how your semester is going,” she replies casually.
“Like shit,” I admit. There’s no point in lying.
“Oh? Just school or is there more?” She leans forward, her eyes alight with interest and I know I shouldn’t confide in her. I shouldn’t trust anyone in this school.
I bite my lip and open my eyes as more students filter into the classroom. “I can’t find a job,” I mutter.
The money I’d gotten from selling my BMW isn’t going to last me forever. I’ve got a roof over my head for the next six months, but what about utilities? Groceries? The weight of reality is settling heavy on my shoulders. This is what it means to be on my own, to have no one to rely on but myself.
“Yeah, I heard you’ve been looking,” Roquel comments. “I’m not surprised you haven’t found anything in Silverwood.”
Even though her words annoy me, I can’t deny that they’re true. “What have you heard?” I ask, already hating that I can’t help myself.
Roquel winces. “Dollar Mart turned you down?” The answer sounds more like a question coming from her.
“I didn’t even turn in the application,” I admit. “I knew what the answer would be.”
She nods. “Have you thought about asking any of your old friends if their parents would let you take a part-time job? North side has better places than?—”
“No.” I shake my head, cutting her off. I’m desperate but not that desperate. Not yet. The longer I stay away from the north side of Silverwood, the more it feels like my old life was all just a dream. A beautiful lie.
South side is real. No one smiles at your face and pretends to like you when really they’re just waiting to stab you in the back. No. At least here at Silverwood Public, they’ll stab me in the face.
I can practically see my futile attempts to get a job to last me through senior year crash and burn. No one is coming to save me from being homeless in a few months if I can’t make it work. For a brief moment, I think of my dad’s best friend, Morpheus Calloway.
You can always come to me, Juliet. Whatever you need. You know that I think of you as my own.
Guilt eats away at my heart. He’d been so well-meaning, but I’d inevitably left him behind too. I’m not his daughter. I’m not his problem. How long would it have been before he, too, urged me to find my own place? To get out? If the last three months had taught me anything it’s that it’s better to leave someone before they can leave you.
I slump against my desk. Well, the businesses of Silverwood beat me to that punch. I’d bet all the money left in my savings account that the owners and managers where I’ve put in applications have collectively decided not to have anything to do with me.
Likely watching the play of emotions across my face, Roquel leans towards me once more. “If you still need a job, you’re gonna have to look out of town,” she advises.
“Yeah.” I know that, but with no car, getting to and from work is going to be a pain in my ass. The idea of spending hours at a time riding to and from different towns that surround Silverwood in public transport makes me nauseous. How much time will I actually have to work if I spend half of the day just trying to get somewhere?
Roquel’s attention doesn’t leave my face, not even when the teacher closes the door and announces the start of class. I try to ignore her and dip my head as we pull out our textbooks and open it to the first choice of literature. Hamlet . The irony of the story of betrayal and revenge is not lost on me.
The hour passes in droning boredom as the teacher passes on the duty of reading aloud from student to student—thankfully bypassing me. When the bell rings to announce the end of the period and the start of lunch, I slam my book closed and stuff it back into my bag before grabbing it and heading for the exit. Roquel’s shorter form trails behind me in silence.
I get halfway to the cafeteria when I decide against it and turn in the opposite direction. “Where are you going?” Roquel calls after me.
“Library,” I say.
“I’ll join you!” The sound of her footsteps squeak on the linoleum floor behind me.
I stop and turn back. “Why?”
She halts in front of me, the low-cut flowing black top she’s wearing gaping open just enough that I can see the black lace bra she’s got on underneath. “What do you mean, why?”
“Why are you coming with me?” I demand, my brows lowering. “We’re not friends.”
Roquel tilts her head to the side, the choppy strands of her hair fluttering above her shoulders as she does. “Maybe I want to offer my assistance.”
“Your assistance…” I repeat her with no small amount of suspicion.
Her eyes roll. “Not everyone is out to get you, Jules.” She waves her hand and breezes past me.
I turn to watch her go. “I’m not looking for backup or to make friends,” I remind her. “Despite what you said the first day of school, I think it’s best if I handle shit myself.”
Several steps ahead of me, she pauses and turns back. “Yeah, maybe you can handle yourself in a fight,” she concedes. Roquel touches her bottom lip with a single finger, pushing against the full pink skin as she eyes me. “But you need a job and maybe I can help.”
She can help me get a job? My initial instinct is to turn her down and tell her to back off—distrust is easier to accept than hope. All around us, students pour towards the cafeteria, hunger and chatter heavy in the air. I debate for so long that it isn’t until the hallway is nearly empty that I finally respond. “Fine,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “You say you can help me get a job? What kind?”
Roquel grins and drops her hand. “No takebacks,” she says with a chuckle before stepping ahead of me, and I’m left with little other recourse but to follow her and hope like fuck this job will be the answer to my problems.