Chapter 5 #2
“Trystan plays soccer,” I say. “He’s kind of okay but he can also be a jerk. I haven’t decided how I feel about him.”
“What about your uncle? How’d lunch go?”
“It sucked. He spent the whole time on his phone. We weren’t even there an hour and he had to leave.”
“Will you see him tonight?”
“Probably not. Sounds like he usually stays at his place in LA.”
“So it’s just you and your cousins living there?”
“I guess, which means I could’ve just stayed in New York. I’m only here because some judge thinks I need adult supervision until I turn eighteen but now I’m living here without an adult.” I pause. “I told Brock I wanted to go back to New York.”
“What’d he say?”
“That I need to be with family. I told him he’s not my family. I barely know him. Oh, and I found out he never told his kids about me.”
“No shit? Why didn’t he tell them?”
“I don’t know. For some reason he kept it a secret. Brock seems like someone who keeps secrets.”
“What do you mean?”
“He just doesn’t seem truthful. I guess that makes sense for an actor. They lie for a living. But Brock is just . . . strange. When he was talking at lunch, he got all angry when I asked about my dad.”
“Why? Did something happen?”
“Apparently, but he wouldn’t tell me what. He told me not to talk about him.”
“Maybe they had a fight.”
“Maybe, but even so, I have a right to ask about my dad.”
“Are you gonna go see him?”
“I haven’t decided. I don’t know if he can have visitors. And I don’t know how I’d get there.”
“Shit, that’s right. You don’t have a license.”
“Or a car. Brock said he’d get me one, but I don’t need one if I can’t drive.”
“Babe, I gotta go.”
“Already? Why?”
“I forgot I had to be somewhere.”
“Where?”
“A meeting at work. I’m already late. Talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I wanted to talk to him longer, but I don’t want him to get in trouble at work. They don’t usually have meetings there. The store got a new manager last week, so maybe that’s why.
Going over to the windows, I look out at the ocean.
I could get used to this view and the sound of the waves.
I didn’t think I liked the ocean. I wasn’t someone who hung out at the beach.
My mom would take us to the Jersey Shore every summer for a weekend, but it was crowded and hot, so I never really liked it.
Here, the ocean feels different. It relaxes me, which I need right now because I’m feeling nervous after hearing Trystan talk about school.
In less than a week, I’ll be starting my senior year at a new school thousands of miles from my old one.
This year was supposed to be fun. I’d finished most of my required credits, so I was going to take all easy classes so I wouldn’t have to study and could spend my time with Axl and my other friends.
Now I’m stuck at this private school that will make me take classes I don’t want or need. Even if I put on my tough New Yorker act, they’ll still give me shit for being the new girl. The girl who doesn’t belong.
Act like you belong. That was Trystan’s advice, and maybe I should consider it. I don’t have to be them to act like them. It can all be pretend. It might be a better approach than trying to fight them.
“Hey!” I hear a voice say.
I turn and see a girl standing at my door. She looks about my age with dark hair and dark eyes, wearing navy pants with a white, short-sleeve, button-up shirt. Her clothes look like a uniform.
She comes over to me, smiling. “I’m Shayla.”
“Rumor,” I say, shaking her hand.
“Sorry if I startled you. I wasn’t sure if I should just come in.”
“Are you the girlfriend’s daughter?”
She looks confused. “Um, I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Brock said his girlfriend had a daughter he wanted me to meet. I thought she was younger than you but maybe I heard him wrong.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not me. I’m Maria’s daughter. The maid?”
“Haven’t met her yet. I just got here.”
“My mom’s usually here but she had an appointment today, so she sent me instead. I’m just here to pick up the dry cleaning. Do you have anything for me?”
“To dry clean?” I laugh. “I don’t wear clothes that need dry cleaning. They’re all wash and wear.”
She looks at me funny. “You’re a Halliway, right? Brock’s niece?”
“I’m a Bennet. Rumor Bennet. And yeah, I’m his niece but I’m not rich.
Having people clean up after me or take stuff to the dry cleaners is all new to me.
When I lived in New York, my mom and I had to haul our stuff to the laundry machines in the basement.
It sucked, but what are you going to do? It was the only option.”
“Living here, my mom will take care of it for you. Just leave whatever’s dirty in the hamper. The guys don’t even do that. They just leave it on the floor and my mom picks it up.”
“They’re so pathetic.”
“It’s all they know. It’s how they grew up.” She smiles. “So how do you like it here?”
“I don’t.”
She laughs. “You’ll get used to it. It’s always hard to start somewhere new.”
“You want to sit down?” I ask, motioning to the couch along the wall.
“Um.” She checks behind her. “I guess I could. I’m waiting for Trystan to finish whatever he was doing. I need to get his clothes from his room, but he told me to come back in a few minutes.”
“What was he doing?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“Have a seat,” I tell her as I sit on the bed.
She goes over to the couch. She seems uncomfortable being in here, like she’s not supposed to be because she’s the maid, or substitute maid until her mom is back.
“So tell me what it’s like here,” I say.
“What do you want to know?”
“What do people do for fun?”
“Hang out on the beach. Surf. Go hiking. Go to movies. Nothing too exciting.”
“What about people our age? I’m guessing we’re about the same age. I’m seventeen.”
“Me too.” She smiles. “Senior?”
“Yeah. Do you go to Twisted Pine?”
She bursts out laughing. “No. That school costs more than my parents make in a year. And that’s just for one semester.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s ridiculous.” She cringes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say that. Pretend you didn’t hear that.”
“Why? I don’t care. I don’t know how much it costs but I’m sure it is ridiculous. If I had the choice, I’d take public school over private. I’m dreading having to go there.”
“It won’t be that bad. It’s a really good school academically, or so I’ve heard.”
“What else have you heard?”
She shrugs. “Not much. I don’t hang out with those people, other than when I’m working for them.”
“But you probably hear stuff when you’re working for them, right?”
“Sometimes.” She chews on her lip, then smiles. “So what’s New York like? I’ve never been there.”
That was an abrupt change of topics. Maybe she’s not allowed to talk about the people she works for. I wish she would because I really need someone to tell me the truth about this town and the people at my school. I’m sure Shayla knows things, but for some reason, she won’t tell me.
“New York is great,” I say. “Greatest city in the world.”
“You miss it?”
“You have no idea. I’ve only been here a few hours and already want to go back.”
“So what happened? Why are you here?”
I pause, because I hate saying those words. “My mom died.”
“Oh. God, I’m really sorry.”
“Happened a few weeks ago. She didn’t feel well that morning, then later, when we were making dinner, she just collapsed. The doctors said it was an aneurysm.”
I don’t know why I’m telling her this. I usually avoid telling this story, but Shayla’s one of those people who makes you want to open up.
She comes over beside me. “I’m so sorry.”
“My only options were coming here or going to foster care. I chose here.”
“What about your dad? Why can’t you live with him?”
“He’s in rehab again.”
She gives me a questioning look. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Why? Why are you looking at me like that?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Forget it.” She walks to the door. “I should go. I need to get to the dry cleaners before they close.”
I race up to her. “Shayla, wait! What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She forces out a smile. “See ya later.”
As she hurries down the hall, I run past her, stopping just in front of her to block her path.
“Tell me what you know about my dad.”
She swallows and looks down. “You didn’t hear this from me.”
“Yeah. What is it? What do you know?”
Her eyes lift to mine. “He’s not in rehab. I saw him here last week.”