Chapter 4
FOUR
Elliana
It’s almost over. All I have to do is sit through the drive home with Carter, and then I can hide in my room and decompress.
That’s the only thought keeping me going as I cross campus, doing everything I can to avoid the gazes of strangers who seem to think they know me. Carter called me rude? Somebody needs to talk to these people about how they have no problem openly staring at someone, snickering—the whole nine yards. That is rude. Not to mention totally unnecessary. What have I ever done to them?
What have I ever done to him? The child. The spoiled, self-centered infant. He can’t stand someone not immediately bowing down and kissing his feet just because he decided they were worthy of a conversation, so he has to lash out and act like a prick. The only reason he was nice to me this morning was to make his dad happy, obviously.
When I didn’t play along, it only irked him worse than ever. Poor baby. I hope his friends soothe his bruised ego.
I can’t believe he has any friends. But then, if everyone else at school is as mean and unoriginal as the people I’ve run into so far today, I guess there’s a chance. These people have nothing better to do than go out of their way to make someone feel less-than. Whatever happened to people minding their own business?
I’ve reached the parking lot when the sight of two girls hanging out near Carter’s black truck makes me slow down. The impulse to back away is almost too tempting. Maybe I can get out of here before they notice me. Even if they’re only hanging out to say hi to Carter again—I’d rather swallow my own tongue, but there’s no accounting for taste—I can’t imagine they would be much nicer than anybody else has been today. I walk slowly the rest of the way, passing one car after another, hoping they will leave before I reach them.
As if my luck has ever gone that way. The curly-haired blonde girl notices me first, nudging her friend before murmuring something that makes her look my way over the roofs of the cars between us. I can’t tell if they’re grinning to be friendly or because they’re looking forward to being bitches. Since I’m not sure what they’re all about, I stick to giving them a short nod before reaching them. Even then, I leave a little space between us.
“Hi. Are you Elliana?” The girl with the curly hair gives me a wave since we are too far apart to shake hands. “I’m Maya, and this is Wren. We’re friends of Carter’s.”
I’m sorry to hear that. I do my best to give them a tiny smile, and even that is almost painful. I’m out of practice.
“How was your first day of class?” Wren asks. She has big, hopeful eyes that shine my way. Are they for real? Is this a big setup?
What I wouldn’t give to be able to take them at face value, to believe they have good intentions. But if they’re friends with Carter, they can’t be much different than he is, right? For all I know, he put them up to it, either to get me off his hands or to make me even more miserable. Either way, I am not in the mood.
I really wish they would stop looking at me the way they are, staring at me like it actually matters whether or not I say anything. I can’t imagine they honestly care. Why would they? Since it’s pretty clear they expect something from me and they’re not going to stop until they get it, I lift a shoulder while shifting my backpack. “It was fine.”
Please, God, let this stop.
“Great. What do you have this semester?” Maya asks.
Did I die? Is this hell? “Oh, today I had Psych, Calculus, and Literature.”
“That’s a pretty long day,” Wren muses. When I sneak a glance at her from under my lashes, she looks sympathetic. “Why don’t you come out with us and unwind a little?”
“Yeah!” Maya agrees enthusiastically. “We could go grab an iced coffee in town, maybe walk around a little, show you where things are?”
“Because you’re not from around here, are you?” Wren prompts. “I remember Carter saying something about you and your mom being from out of town.”
I’m sure that’s not all he said. I’m sure he has plenty of opinions. Just the thought of him makes my face go hot, though my sweater isn’t really helping things either. Pushing up the sleeves, I fight to find something to say. I have to fight for every word as it is—I’m always sure that whatever I choose will be the wrong thing. You would think enough years pass for a person to start forgetting being laughed at every time they open their mouth in class, but you would be wrong.
I still hear every snicker and laugh. I still see every dirty look. If I went to high school with these girls, they would be whispering about me right now, their heads bent together, hands in front of their faces. Like that makes it any easier to be laughed at.
“Really, I have to finish unpacking,” I tell them, which isn’t really a lie.
“Oh. Okay. Maybe next time,” Wren offers after her face falls.
She can’t be for real. There’s no way. Nobody is actually this nice on purpose. They can’t possibly be disappointed that some stranger won’t go window shopping with them over iced coffee.
No, they’re probably disappointed they won’t have a chance to be mean. Like that bread roll Carter threw at my head last night. The prick.
I look up from my scuffed trainers in time to see Wren nudge Maya, nodding at something behind me. “Here comes Carter. I guess we’ll let you guys go home. It was really nice to meet you,” Wren adds.
I wish I could believe her. It’s almost shocking how much I wish I could believe her. Why don’t I get to be normal like everybody else? Why do I have to carry all these ugly, humiliating memories with me everywhere I go?
“Hey, girls.” Since I’m not looking up, I can’t see whether Carter exchanges anything beyond a glance with the two of them. Really, I don’t want to see. I don’t think I could handle it if either of them rolled their eyes or smirked.
It’s not often I want to believe somebody has good intentions, but I really want to believe they do.
Of course, I’ll only end up getting my heart crushed when it turns out they’re no better than Carter or any of the countless kids who made my life a living hell all through high school.
Especially the ones who decided to give me a swimming lesson one night.
Carter passes me on the way to the driver’s side door, and his brief nearness makes me shudder. I shouldn’t think about that now—not around him. Not around anyone. If the memories are going to come, they should come while I’m alone, so nobody sees how freaked I am.
Especially Carter, who doesn’t need any more excuses to bully me.
At least this time, he doesn’t bother trying to make conversation. It feels almost miraculous to pass the drive in silence. I just need to get home. I need to be alone and recharge my battery a little after spending hours around so many people. It’s exhausting, but it’s not like I can explain it to anybody. Nobody would listen, for one thing. Mom sure wouldn’t. She never has, even when I tried to tell her what happened that night. I thought I was dying, but all she could do after I tearfully poured my heart out was tell me to stop being so dramatic. Any illusions I still held onto about her being a caring mother vanished in smoke.
It’s a relief to pull into the driveway. Obviously, meeting Maya and Wren unsettled me more than I realize, since the sweat on my palm makes opening the door a challenge. Carter is already opening the front door and sailing through by the time I jog up the wide front steps. I’m surprised he doesn’t try to close it behind him and shut me out.
Was I hoping for a little peace and quiet today on my return? I was planning on running straight up to my room without saying a word to Mom.
As soon as we’re inside, it’s obvious I’m not going to get the chance.
“There you are! I was starting to wonder if you would ever get home.” Mom shakes her head as she emerges from the living room, where a handful of people are chatting, taking notes on tablets, and examining a stack of fabric swatches in different colors. “I told you the wedding planners were coming today, remember?”
I’m sure if Carter wasn’t standing only a few feet away, she would add a biting remark about how I never remember the important things; how my head is always in the clouds, and how she basically wishes I didn’t have to be a part of the wedding in the first place. But she and Paul are still in the honeymoon phase, meaning she can’t show her true colors yet. At least, not until she gets the big, splashy public wedding of her dreams.
“I came home right after class.” I glance toward Carter before I can help myself—he can back me up. But will he? No. He doesn’t say a word, only scoffing as he stares into the living room. No need to ask how he feels about all of this.
Either her head is too far up her liposuctioned ass to notice, or she knows it’s safer to overlook his attitude. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she heaves a sigh. “Well, you’re here now. I’m still not completely settled on the color of your dress. There are some fabric swatches in here that I’d like to hold up next to your face to see how they go with your coloring.” She’s still rambling on as she takes my wrist and almost drags me into the room. Carter, of course, doesn’t follow.
Will she ever get tired of humiliating me?
“How was your first day? Please tell me you made some friends.” She grabs a few swatches and holds them up next to me, scowling at every one. “Honestly, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t look good in anything. Could you at least try? Put on a little mascara, a little eyeshadow. You might actually start looking like a human being instead of a zombie straight from the grave. At least this wedding will be a reason for you to wear something other than these ugly, shapeless clothes you insist on wrapping yourself in.”
Who needs to go outside to be bullied when I can just stay home and let Mom do it?
“I mean, you must be sweltering,” she frets, clicking her tongue and wrinkling her nose. Because, of course, anybody who doesn’t walk around with their boobs hanging out the way she does must have something wrong with them.
I am so tired of this. Tired of being her daughter. I’ve never been good enough. She doesn’t even try to understand why I dress the way I do. Why I want nothing more than to fade into the background—to go unnoticed. Why bother understanding when it’s so much easier to simply disapprove?
Before she pries any deeper into how my day went and whether I met anybody nice, one of the women beckons her. “What do you think about these floral arrangements? You were talking about an archway to stand under when you exchange vows, right?”
I don’t know the woman, but I’m grateful to her. She just saved me from having to suffer through what I know would be disappointment verging on anger from dear old Mom. Now that her attention has been stolen away, she forgets all about the right colors for me and discusses hydrangeas versus roses.
Which is my cue to get the hell out of here before she remembers I’m around. When Mom’s not looking, I duck out of the room on tiptoes, then jog over to the stairs and take them two at a time, desperate for solace. I feel beaten and bruised. Is this how it’s going to be every day? Why can’t I take online classes? Nobody would miss me. Why can’t I just disappear?
Probably for the same reason I can’t avoid Carter: my luck has never been very good. Once I reach the top of the stairs, his snide voice assaults me. “You know, your mom might be a gold digger, but there’s one thing we can agree on.”
He’s leaning in the doorway to his bedroom, arms folded as he follows my progress up the hall. I pin my gaze to the floor, refusing to give him the reaction he’s so clearly going for. Snorting, he adds, “Your clothes are hideous.”
Because I needed that last little kick in the teeth to put a bow on this gift of a day. The first of so many days. An endless string of them filled with nothing but anxiety and fear.
And maybe a little bit of envy.
Because deep down inside, I wish I could be normal. I just wouldn’t know where to start.