Chapter Six Sam
CHAPTER SIX
SAM
An old counselor once told me that no one is born unlucky. It’s all just a series of events that happen as a result of choices made. By her standard, it’s simply a little cause and effect. But I called bullshit the moment the words slipped past her thin lips.
My life has been nothing but the unlucky event of being stuck in a never-ending loop of poverty, neglect, and despair. I’m reminded every day that no matter what I do or how hard I try, something will always go wrong.
Like today.
It’s only my first day of classes, and I’m late for the first one of the morning. So much for a fresh start.
I race forward and yank the door to the lecture hall open. The professor has already started, his voice booming through the room. To keep from disturbing anyone, I slowly close the door behind me, being careful not to make a sound.
But fate has other plans, because while I manage to quietly close the door, the strap on my old book bag snaps and all of my things fall loudly to the floor.
And who said people aren’t born unlucky?
The room stills, the only sound to be heard that of students twisting in their seats to see what or who caused the commotion.
Me, that’s who. So much for keeping a low profile.
“You’re late,” the physics professor says after what feels like forever.
In reality, it’s been mere seconds, but with all eyes on me, it seems much longer.
I bend down to collect my things, my breathing still ragged. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s my first day, and I couldn’t find—”
“I don’t care,” he says with a huff.
“Right,” I mutter while collecting the last item and standing upright.
“Just take a seat and try not to be late again.”
I nod, though I’m sure he doesn’t see it as his attention has gone back to the front of the class. The students are still staring, and of course I can feel every pair of eyes on me, but it isn’t until now that I notice just how many.
Then, like clockwork, the dirty looks come, followed by mean jokes and sharp jabs. People size me up, taking note of my non-brand clothes, the Adidas hoodie that is well worn, my outdated sneakers, and the large backpack. By now, this is par for the course around here.
I’ve been on campus for less than twenty-four hours, and I’ve had several people walk directly into me, as if I am just invisible. Not to mention being threatened by the hockey player in the advisory office earlier.
“Eww. What is she wearing?” one girl says to the person beside her. Her voice is low, and she probably thinks no one can hear her except her friend, but she’s wrong.
I hear it all.
“How embarrassing!” another person says.
“She must be one of the new scholarship kids,” goes someone a few rows up.
“They could have helped her with some new clothes at least,” a girl says, followed by laughter from those around her.
Anger bubbles in my chest, and it takes everything in me not to lash out and tell each and every last one of them where they can shove it. Doing that would only draw more unwanted attention, and I’ll be labeled as the poor and angry Black girl.
So instead, I still my emotions, mentally reminding myself why I’m here. This is all for Desmond.
Just two and a half years. Then, I’ll graduate with endorsements that will set me and Desmond on the right path. Yes, I could have stayed at the junior college or gotten a minimum wage job, but it wouldn’t be enough to prove to a judge that Desmond would be better off with me instead of his father.
This is the lesser of two evils in the grand scheme of what’s important to me. So, if I have to deal with a few stares from some stuck-up rich kids, so be it.
Besides, none of this surprises me, anyway. I knew what I was getting myself into when I accepted the scholarship. I guess I never quite realized how overwhelming it was to be in a cesspool of elitist pricks.
But as long as I keep my head down, nothing will distract me from the goal.
Even Everest…
Nearly every person besides Gracie has treated me like some outcast so far. Yet, for some reason, the reaction Everest had when our eyes met in the courtyard continues to sting.
I finally settle in the seat closest to me.
It’s only two rows away from the exit—perfect for getting out of here as soon as the lecture ends.
The quicker I get out of this class, the quicker I can put the embarrassment behind me.
Out of sight, out of mind. Eventually, the stares will fade if I keep to myself, do my work, and stay out of the way.
Something shinier will come along, and their focus will shift.
I realize that’s going to be easier said than done with this particular class. I recognize the group of girls Gracie warned me about. Christina and her little crew are sitting two rows up on the other side of the aisle, not bothering to hold in their snickers.
I may have been dealt a shitty hand in life, but the last thing I’ll do is give those plastic Barbies the satisfaction of knowing they’re getting to me.
So I do the next best thing and zero in on Professor Wilson.
Except my plan fails miserably because my focus lands on another student.
He’s just a row up, on the other side of the aisle.
I’m not sure why, but my body reacts on instinct. He’s one of the hockey players, and it takes a moment for me to remember where we’ve crossed paths. Then it clicks. He was with Everest yesterday. The huge guy who didn’t seem too interested in whatever was happening around him.
God, he’s gorgeous.
And though I want to look away, I can’t.
Not when his eyes seem glued to me. There was no doubt about how handsome he was, but sitting this close, it’s undeniable.
From here, his jaw seems sharper, and his shoulders broader.
He’s massive—in the best way—brooding, and unbothered, with dark eyes that peer right through me.
He’s Indigenous if his strong, angular features are any indication. Today, his hair cascades over his shoulders as opposed to the braid from the other day. And his lashes are every girl’s dream. This guy probably doesn’t even realize how lucky he is.
My breath hitches as I note that he hasn’t blinked or even appeared to breathe since we made eye contact. He doesn’t glare at me like the others, and there doesn’t seem to be any judgment on his face. Just a reserved, unwavering stare.
A shiver races down my spine, and I shift in my seat out of discomfort. What’s with all the guys in this school peering at me like I’m prey?
I take a deep breath and glance around the room again out of curiosity. Everyone else has gone back to doing whatever they were before I came in. Except for him; he still hasn’t moved.
Christina and her group snicker among themselves. I want to ignore them. I need to, but something keeps drawing me to them. Maybe it’s self-sabotage, and I enjoy punishing myself.
Either way, I let out a sigh and watch Professor Wilson make his way to the back door to talk to someone outside. When he comes back inside, he stops beside the giant hockey player and says something too low for me to hear.
The guy stands to leave, taking one last look at me on his way out. A wave of relief washes over me after he’s gone. My stomach unclenches itself, and I release a breath.
A couple of girls seated behind me whisper to each other.
“I know she doesn’t think she has a chance with the Mountain.”
The other laughs. “Right. Like he would ever date a girl like her.”
Unable to hold my composure, I turn and look them dead in the eyes. “And what kind of girl might that be?”
Their smiles falter, replaced by reddened faces and daggers in their eyes. As expected, they don’t respond; girls like that never do. All talk and no bite.
When they don’t offer up any kind of rebuttal, I face forward, pull out my notebook, and begin to take notes.
The rest of the class flies by, but the moment I stand to leave with everyone else, the brunette behind me gestures to my backpack and says, “Don’t forget your trash.”
Her friend cackles. “Good one.”
Just when I am about to defend myself, another voice slices through the air.
“Hey, skanks. Why don’t you back off?” Christina steps up beside me.
With that, their mouths snap shut, and all the color drains from their faces. And I’ve got to admit, it feels damn good to witness. I love it when karma is served instantly.
“Because from what I understand from Daddy’s files, shouldn’t you be more worried about taking those antibiotics to clear up that chlamydia, Taylor?”
All I can do is watch. Christina clearly isn’t a person whose bad side you want to get on. But why is she helping me? Especially when just an hour earlier, she was also laughing at me.
“Screw you,” Taylor bites out, and the two girls scurry from the room.
“Too-da-loo, girlies,” Christina continues to taunt.
I turn to Christina, reluctance coursing through me. That was nice of her to defend me, but why? Girls like Christina don’t do anything without reason. There is always a catch.
“Thanks. But you—” I start, but she raises a hand to cut me short.
“Before you go saying I didn’t have to, stop. I don’t like those two bitches, so that was more for me than it was for you.”
And there it is.
“Well, thanks anyway,” I say gingerly while gathering my broken backpack to head to my next class.
“Don’t mention it. It’s Samantha, right?” she pries, smiling at me when I look at her again.
“I go by Sam,” I answer, somewhat confused at where this conversation is leading.
“That’s cute.”
“Thanks. But how do you know that?”
She playfully waves my question away. “Oh, girl. I know everything there is to know about everybody. Plus, you’re roommates with Gracie. She and I go way back.”
Internally, I cringe at that. While Gracie has been very vague about what happened between her and these girls, something tells me there’s a lot more to it than them going way back. And until I know what exactly, I’ll err on the side of caution.