Chapter 13
I slouch in my chair, my legs sprawled haphazardly. Momma would have my head if she saw me right now.
“A lady must conduct herself with grace and decorum at all times.”
But fuck that. Grace and decorum can go straight to hell.
I’m exhausted and a bit irritable. Sleep deprivation and traipsing around a new building are taking their toll on me.
These damn shoes aren’t helping either. I’m usually a pro at walking in uncomfortable shoes all day, but the straps on these particular wedges are too damn tight.
My ankles are killing me. I bought these shoes a while back and decided to break them in today.
Huge mistake. I’ll definitely need to put some ice on my poor ankles later.
So far, all my teachers seem cool. The kids are okay too, but not as friendly as Leah. I haven’t seen her since homeroom. I should’ve compared our schedules to see if we had any classes together.
Haven’t seen my bitch of a cousin either, which is for the best. I’m the new girl, and getting into a spat won’t look good on my part.
Cussing her out at home—calling that place home feels so yuck—is a no-go too.
Don’t want to stir the drama pot there; it’s already close to boiling over, and anyway, my grandmother’s peace means more to me than getting even.
Most likely, I’ll never see my pink and purple backpack again. It’s probably on the way to a landfill at this very moment.
My belly grumbles; the granola bars didn’t curb my hunger for long.
I can survive the next forty-five minutes, though.
This is the last class before lunch. I’m crossing my fingers that there are some good options on the menu today.
Like baked ziti, grilled cheese, or chicken enchiladas.
Anything with cheese will do. It’s my absolute favorite thing to eat.
I went to the library after second period, so payment is good to go. Sadly, I won’t be able to afford breakfast and lunch after next week. Keeping my belly full will set me back seven bucks a day. Doesn’t cost an arm and a leg, but when you’re broke it might as well.
Momma flat-out refused to consider any government assistance. Another reason why finding a job is priority numero uno.
What’s her plan? Does she even have one? Sheila’s shaky hospitality won’t last forever. If it wasn’t for my grandmother, we’d already be out on the street.
Leah walks into the classroom, and my mood instantly brightens.
“Leah,” I whisper-shout, relieved to see her friendly face.
“Hey.” She beams, sliding into the desk behind me. “How’s your first day going?”
I twist in my seat, giving her my full attention. “Better than I thought it would. Even had a few cuties flirt with me.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah, thinking about starting a harem,” I joke.
She bursts out laughing, shaking her head at me. “You’re hilarious.”
“Zilphia Kensley?”
“Yes,” I answer, turning back around in my seat.
“I’m Mr. Beaver.” He places an American Government textbook on my desk. “You’re only a month behind, so you should catch up in no time.”
“Thanks.” I face Leah again as he walks away. “Did you have lunch already?”
“No, my lunch block is next.”
“Mine too. Do you want to sit together?”
“Sure.”
After roll call, Mr. Beaver instructs the class to review chapter three and complete the challenge questions at the end.
“Zilphia, you can start on chapter one,” he tells me.
“Okay.” I open my textbook and set to work.
The next forty-five minutes go by at a snail’s pace.
I love my country, but damn if this chapter isn’t long and boring.
I’m close to pulling my hair out when the bell finally rings.
The shrill sound is music to my ears. I almost trip over my feet sprinting to the door.
Leah is right on my heels. Guess she’s ready for a break too.
“Wednesdays are always the slowest,” Leah complains, arranging her beautiful micro locs over a slender shoulder. “I call it the mid-week slump.”
I chuckle. “Fitting name.”
We merge with our peers in the stairwell and head to the first floor. My locker is the first stop. I quickly toss the tote bag inside, then we walk down the hall to hers.
She slides her notebook and textbook on the metal shelf before grabbing the cheetah-print lunch bag hanging on the hook. “I pack breakfast and lunch almost every day, since the salad bar is the only vegan option our wonderful school offers. Blatant discrimination if you ask me.”
“What’d you bring?”
“Vegan chicken salad and grilled pineapples,” she answers, swinging her locker door shut.
“Excuse my ignorance, but how the hell can chicken be vegan?” I ask, thoroughly perplexed. “It’s meat.”
I’m not even going to get started on the grilled pineapples. Who decided grilling pineapples was a good idea? It’s bad enough someone thought to put it on pizza for crying out loud.
“Tofu, chickpeas, or another plant-based substitution are used instead of chicken.”
“Oh.” We slip into the fast-moving crowd, weaving our way toward the cafeteria. “What do you put in yours?”
“Chickpeas, cranberries, almonds, celery, and vegan mayo.”
I crinkle my nose. “Sounds very vomit-worthy.”
“Hey,” she growls, her mouth twisting in feigned anger. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“Noooo thanks.” I vehemently shake my head in the negative. “The vegan granola bars were pretty good, but I draw the line at vegan meat. I’m a carnivore through and through.”
“I can sway you to the vegan lifestyle,” Leah remarks, arching an eyebrow in challenge.
“Ha,” I bark. “It ain’t happening.”
The instant we step into the bustling cafeteria, delicious aromas bombard my nose. I’m ready to eat my weight in food or until the bell rings, whichever comes first. I survey my surroundings.
No wonder there are three lunch blocks. The room’s crammed tight. Long, rectangular bench-style tables fill the compact space, with circular stools on either side. There’s barely enough elbow room for a couple hundred students.
“Do you want to eat outside?” Leah nods toward the round metal picnic tables beyond the bay windows to the right.
“Sure.”
“I’ll find us a table while you get some food.”
I give her a thumbs up and we temporarily part ways.
The lunch line is lengthy, but it’s moving fairly quickly.
My greedy gaze scours the mouthwatering selections behind the plexiglass.
The crispy chicken tenders, mozzarella sticks, and curly fries are calling my name.
I shift on my feet, impatiently awaiting my turn. Come on.
“Next,” an older woman calls out, waving me forward.
Hallelujah!
“Hi,” I chirp and point out my selections.
I pay for my goodies, then make my way toward the outdoor dining area.
“Well, if it isn’t Ms. Junior Slutbag.” I come to an abrupt standstill, recognizing my cousin’s scathing tone.
Her snide remark is met with jeering laughter. Great, an audience. I clutch my laden tray in a death grip. Deja sits regal-like at the overcrowded table to my left.
I raise my chin, displaying a boldness the pounding organ in my chest belies. “I’m not a slut.”
“No?” Deja lifts a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Ladies, keep an eye on this one. She’s a slut like her mother and will fuck your boyfriend right under your nose.”
“Liar,” I hiss.
“Don’t worry about them, babes.” A cute boy with a high-top fade and mischievous brown irises winks at me. “You can be my slut anytime.” He grabs his crotch and gives a hard squeeze. “How about now?”
More laughter. I squeeze the tray harder as sweat rapidly accumulates under my armpits.
“Me too, sweet cheeks.” Another boy grins, showcasing slightly crooked teeth. “Interested in a threesome? Me and Xander will take real good care of your fine ass.”
“This is my man,” a girl sneers, possessively snaking an arm around the biceps of the boy beside her. “Touch him and you die, bitch.”
I’m still a virgin, but I refuse to tell them that. Fuck them. There’s no use in trying to defend myself anyway. They’ve already decided who I am.
“She’s broke and homeless too.” Deja resumes the attack on my character, tsking under her breath in disapproval. “And her father’s a criminal.”
Tears burn my eyes and threaten to spill over, but I blink them back.
“Aww, she’s about to cry,” Deja croons. “Poor thing.”
“Where’s my backpack?” I ask, resolving not to acknowledge my near breakdown.
The budding actress taps a finger against her cheek in bewilderment. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Don’t play stupid, Deja.” My voice wavers a tiny bit. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I left my backpack by the basement door, and you took it. Tell me where it is right now!”
“Oh, that raggedy piece of shit,” she states, her full lips curling into an evil smirk. “I thought it was trash, so I threw it out. My bad.”
Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react.
What am I going to do? I don’t have the money to buy school supplies, let alone a new backpack.
I can’t depend on Leah’s generosity every day.
Admittedly, the loss is inconsequential compared to the hailstorm my life has recently become.
It was stupid to think things would be different here.
Hope is a dangerous thing for good reason.
I square my shoulders and stride forward, head held high. A second later, I’m sprawled on my face, and any hope of a dignified exit goes right out the damn window.
Deja, the spiteful bitch that she is, tripped me.
Ugh! She’s been getting the jump on me since this morning.
Jeers and cackling fill my ears. I lie there, stunned, watching my bottled water skid across the floor.
Most of my lunch and dipping sauces scatter behind the rolling plastic.
So much for eating good. I hop to my feet and grab my tray, but fall again chasing after my bottled water.
Ketchup packets are the culprit this time.
Stick a fork in me, I’m so fucking done.
I’m never going to live this down. The rest of the school year is going to be a freaking nightmare. I should’ve ignored her and kept it moving.