Chapter 5
Chapter Five
KARTER
Twelve Years Old
Y awning, I stretch my arms high over my head, tucking my legs into myself as my eyes flutter open. I hate mornings; they never did me any good. To me, mornings are nothing more than another day in a life without Enya and her snappy comebacks.
Maybe I’ll try to make a friend today. Kellan seems nice; he could be my new friend.
It’s a thought that I never thought I would ever have. A friend to replace the one that left, and hope for something close to what we had. Giggles, games, and gossiping about the kids that still live here.
Though a good portion of them have already moved on, it wouldn’t have stopped us from finding out little secrets about the new ones. It wouldn’t have stopped us from keeping our table always available for us, and playing games until we either got bored, or were shooed out by the grown-ups.
I blow out my breath as I walk toward the closest bathroom. My lower stomach hurts really bad today, and I’m not sure why. I rub my eyes with the back of my hand as I push one of the stalls open and sit down. I swallow down a sigh when I hear some of the other girls come in, then quickly clean myself up and flush the toilet.
As soon as I make it over to my sink, I realize that I forgot my toothbrush and toothpaste in my room, so I leave the new girls behind, staring at me for some damn reason, and hold my head up high when I walk through the door. I hate that they whisper about me so damn much. It’s almost as if they think it’s some kind of honor to be here as long as I have, but maybe Harlan was right. I’m more than likely still here because no one wants me, and while I shouldn’t really care, sometimes, I do.
I hate him, I think angrily as I enter my room and grab the bag that has my toothbrush and paste in it. I don’t care how nice he’s trying to be. He’s not nice. Enya warned me about him, and now he’s pretending that he wants to be my friend when I know better.
By the time I make it back to the bathroom, I’m so worked up thinking about Harlan that I snap at the girls staring at me after I saddle up to my sink. I quickly twist the cap on the tube, then toss it at them as hard as I can.
“Stop staring at me!” I holler at the top of my lungs.
The group of girls quickly scatter, running out of the room and letting the door slam closed behind them.
Turning my attention back to the sink, I look in the mirror above it.
The girl with the straight, damn near white-blonde hair, pouty lips, and doe-shaped brown eyes that stares back at me is no one I know anymore. She’s a lot angrier, more hateful, and less full of hope since her best friend left.
Pursing my lips, I decide to focus on what I came in here to do and take the silence as a good moment to scrub my teeth, then go back to my room in relative peace and quiet.
Most of the girls are huddled near the wall just outside of the door, shooting looks at me, their mouths tight lines.
They’re mad that I was able to run them off, but that’s ‘cause they’re a bunch of chickens, I think smugly as I shove passed them and keep walking.
I make it all the way back to my bedroom door, then stop short when I notice someone inside. A boy is standing with his body arched forward, the window open, and completely oblivious to the fact that I see them.
I take a step back so I can hide myself, then peer around the side, a hand placed on the wall in front of me, and watch.
He stands up and takes a deep breath—something I can tell by the way his body moves. With his back still toward me, he runs a hand back through his hair, then reaches up for the lift and slowly brings the frame back down into place.
I suck in a breath as my heart starts racing. He almost saw me, but I think I was fast enough to step away from the doorway before he was able to.
A glance up the hallway and I notice that the group of girls have disappeared. I’m alone in the hallway with someone poking around in my room, and I’m not brave enough to confront them about it.
My eyes lower to my bare feet as I begin to chew my lower lip. I feel almost ashamed at myself. I can stand up to the biggest, meanest boy here, but I can’t march into my room and kick out a busybody?
Chicken, I taunt myself angrily.
Sniffling quietly, I wipe away a tear with a knuckle, turn, then run down the hall.
I don’t want to fight with anyone else today. Maybe even never again.
But it makes me angry and sad to know that my room isn’t my own anymore since I found someone inside of it. Even though I don’t know what he was doing in there, or who he was, I have to make sure that no one can ever go in there again.
Not without my permission.
Not without me being in there.
Not before I have a chance to hide the things that I shouldn’t even have.
I use my fork to mash my waffles, not feeling very hungry today. Once they’re nothing more than a pile of mush, I begin to push them around the plate. I never really did like waffles, though I’ve never complained about it either.
Having to make a different meal for just one of us isn’t something that I think is very fair, so I’ve always eaten them and kept my mouth quiet.
Today, though, I refuse to pretend.
Enya would have traded me for whatever she had on her plate for the extra waffles, I think sadly. Reaching for one of the small syrup cups, I peel back the plastic cover, then begin to pour it all over the pile on my plate. I reach for another one and do the same thing, over and over, until I’ve managed to saturate the mess in syrup, then push my plate away and lean back in my seat.
“Hey.”
I close my eyes tightly for a moment, my hands gripping the sides of my seat. My hands hurt, and I know that my knuckles must be white from the strain. I bite down on my tongue to keep myself from reacting the way I want and choose to pretend instead.
Just this once.
“Hi, Harlan.”
“Can I sit with you?”
Opening my eyes, I look up into his, and I’m almost startled.
He doesn’t have the usual smug look on his face. His eyes show no signs of tease to them. He looks stoic, uncomfortable, and a little uneasy.
I nod as I reach for my plate and push it to the side so he can lay out his spread.
“Thanks,” he says quietly as he sits, then reaches for his plastic cup of orange juice.
We sit in silence for a few moments as he sips his juice. I push a strand of hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear before I cross my arms loosely over my chest.
“Are you okay?” I ask him quietly.
Harlan looks at me over the rim of his cup, his eyes becoming stern in their gaze. He sets it down and picks up a fork, tapping it against his plate.
“No one’s ever asked me that before,” he finally admits in a stoic tone.
“What?” I ask him curiously.
“If I’m okay.”
I blanche, suddenly feeling like the same busybody that was in my room earlier, and do my best to keep a plain look on my face.
“Oh.”
He chuckles as he tears his eyes away from mine, glances around the room, then blows out his breath as he begins to break off a piece of his waffle.
“I’ll be alright.”
Liar.