Girl Upside Down Page 2

  Even though she wasn’t here, I felt like I couldn’t let her down. So after “owning my brave” (another Mom-ism), I’d almost made my escape—showered, dressed, and ready for school—when I heard the bedroom door creak open.

  I should have kept going, pretending I hadn’t noticed, but for some stupid reason, I paused in the doorway, waiting.

  “You’re leaving early.” His voice was thick with sleep as he hurried across the apartment toward the kitchen. “Let me make you some breakfast before you take off. Most important meal of the day.” He was still dressed in what he’d been wearing last night. Maybe he hadn’t slept or maybe he slept in his clothes, but I wasn’t about to ask. Questions showed interest, which expressed concern—I didn’t have those feelings for him, I reminded myself.

  I busied myself with the zipper of my hoodie. “I already ate.”

  Nick spun a couple of circles in the kitchen, like he didn’t have a clue what to make for breakfast.

  “I’ve got to get going. I don’t want to be late,” I added as he began searching through cupboards as though they might have magically been stocked overnight by the grocery fairy.

  “School doesn’t start until eight-fifteen.” His attention flickered to the clock on the stove. “It’s not even seven.”

  “It’s my first day. I need to get my schedule, find my locker, figure out where my classes are, that kind of stuff.” Not to mention a few million other things I’m sure I hadn’t even thought of. “Really, I’m good. But thanks,” I added when he retrieved a box of microwave popcorn from the cupboard above the fridge.

  Last night’s dinner had consisted of a frozen pizza he’d foraged from the ice-encrusted depths of the freezer. It had tasted more freezer than pizza. I’d be leery of anything that came from that kitchen from now on, even a bag of Jiffy Pop.

  “Then, here. Take this.” After stuffing the popcorn back in the cupboard, he opened the fridge and took out a brown bag. “I packed you a lunch.” He held the brown bag toward me, taking me by surprise. My name was even penned across the front.

  I guessed it contained the leftovers of the pizza, but taking it seemed like the quickest way to escape. “Thanks,” I said as I stuffed the paper sack into my backpack. “I’ll see you after school.” As I moved into the hallway, I paused, scheming on the quick. “I’ll probably be home late. I’m going to stay to finish my homework and use the Wi-Fi at school to check out some stuff.” Another obstacle toward “finding the good”? No Wi-Fi in the prison known as this apartment. Which cut me off that much more from my old life, since my cell phone plan had been slashed down to the bare bones in those last few months. Money had been tight with all the medical bills, and cell phones, contrary to popular belief, were a luxury when it was between that and keeping the lights on.

  “ ‘Some stuff’?” Nick echoed, trying his hand at being parental. About ten years too late.

  With Mom, I would have caved and spilled everything I had planned for the afternoon detail by detail, but with him…

  “I’ll see you later,” I said quietly, continuing toward the stairs. I was half expecting him to come after me, demanding to know what I meant by some stuff and how late late was, but he never did. The door whined closed behind me.

  There was a smidgeon of good, at least. Nick wasn’t in the business of helicopter parenting, and I was going to take advantage of that. I had every intention of filling my waking hours with life outside that apartment, away from him.

  As soon as I moved outdoors, I realized my mistake. I hadn’t thought to grab my umbrella or my raincoat. Instead of retracing my steps, I soldiered onto the wet sidewalk and got moving. It could have been a torrential downpour and I wouldn’t have headed back into that apartment. The school was impossible to miss, Nick had said. Turn left outside the apartment and follow a straight line until a giant high school appeared.

  The rain made the trip faster than I estimated it would take, so Riverview High barely appeared awake by the time the sidewalk spit me out in front of the sprawling mass that just as easily could have been mistaken for a condemned hospital. Gray, blocky, and sterile. That was my first impression of my new school. It couldn’t have been any more different from my old school if it tried….

  Right up until I made it through the heavy front doors and was greeted by a blockade of metal detectors and security guards.

  So I guess it could be more different.

  After setting my backpack on the scanner’s conveyor belt, I waited to be motioned through the metal detector. Thank god it didn’t beep, because getting wanded by a dude who gave off the vibe that his sole purpose was to intimidate teenagers was not the way I wanted to kick off the year at my new school.

  As soon as my bag cleared the scanner, I snagged it and trudged down the hall in search of the office. My soaking shoes squeaked along the floor. I could have used a map, because this place seemed to be a maze of halls and rooms. Nick had already taken care of the initial registration stuff, but the next two years and change of adjusting to a new high school was on me.

  The office was almost as quiet as the rest of the school, but there was one lady who was working behind her desk, who noticed me—or more likely my noisy shoes—when I approached. She appeared surprised to see me. When she checked the standard school clock hanging on the wall across from her, she looked even more so.

  “Can I help you, hon?” she asked, setting her oversized coffee cup on the desk.

  “This is my first day, and I think I’m supposed to get my schedule here.”

  She shot me a sympathetic smile, like this development was something to be pitied. “Name?”

  “Quinn Winters.”

  She pounded the keys at the old school computer. “Ah, there you are.” She punched one last key. “I’ll print your schedule and locker assignment, and you’ll be all set.”

  Right. Because that’s all it takes to fit in at a new school.

  “Thanks,” I said when she handed the paperwork to me. I gave it a quick check. Similar classes to what I was taking at my last school, just different times. My nose wrinkled when I read what was listed for first period: PE.

  Not only was PE the universe’s way of tormenting me, I had the added misfortune of being forced to suffer through it during the first class of the day. So I could wander the halls the rest of the day as a stinky, wilted mess.

  “If you need anything else, just stop by. Okay, hon?”

  What if I need a brand-new life?

  I assumed she meant adding money to my lunch card or turning in an excuse note, though, so I kept that to myself.

  “Oh,” I said, remembering as I turned to leave. “Do you have a map? This place is bigger than my last school.”

  By about ten times.

  “It might seem confusing, but it’s really a big square. If you get lost, just keep going and you’ll eventually get there.” She passed me a photocopied map, her smile tipping into the sympathetic realm again. “Good luck.”

  The way she said it made it seem like I was shipping to the front lines, which did nothing to calm my nerves. Nothing like starting a megaschool in the middle of the school year as a sophomore.

  Giving the map a quick check, I headed down the hall to where the library was supposed to be if the map was to be trusted. My soggy Birkenstocks echoing through the empty halls. The rest of my outfit, along with my hair, was just as wet. I would not forget that umbrella tomorrow.

  Entering the library as a drenched poodle, I found it as empty as the rest of the school. The lights were still off. If I hadn’t triple-checked the school calendar last week, I would have thought it was a teacher workday. Classes began in forty-five minutes and the place was a graveyard.

  The computers lining a couple of long tables in the middle were powered off, but I couldn’t imagine any self-respecting librarian would mind if I turned one on f
or “research” purposes.

  Heading toward them, I flipped on the overhead lights. They flickered to life, humming as light burst through the room. I’d taken only a few steps when I heard something stirring from the back of the room.

  “Who turned on the lights?” an irritated grumble echoed from the far corner.

  Craning my neck, I could just make out some movement in the periodicals section of the library. “I did.”

  “Then you better turn them back off, Idid.”

  I sidestepped over so I had a better view of what appeared to be someone getting up from the floor, almost like he’d been perusing the magazines on his stomach. Or, more likely, taking a nap.

  His back was to me, but he didn’t look like a student. Despite the jeans and T-shirt that were two sizes too big for him, he was still two sizes bigger than the average high school boy. Maybe the librarian? No, didn’t even come close to fitting that mold. Maybe the custodian?

  Oh, wait. No. I already knew who the school custodian was.

  “What are you doing in here?” I asked as he rolled his neck a couple of times.

  “It’s the library. What everyone does in this place.” His wide shoulders rose beneath the white tee as he turned in my direction. He might have looked like an adult from the back, but he looked like a teen from the front. Just barely, though.

  “Study?” I guessed as he moved closer.

  He shot me a funny expression. “Sleep,” he replied, his voice groggy.

  “Why were you sleeping in the library?” I held my place, crossing my arms, fighting the instinct to retreat from him. He didn’t exactly scream danger—it was more of a whisper.

  “Because it was dark and quiet. Before you arrived, at least.” He paused when he was still a distance away from me, almost like he was used to people needing their space where he was concerned.

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I stared instead. In my defense, he was the kind of guy who was hard not to stare at. Brownish, messy hair, dark, restless eyes, and a mouth carved into a perma-smirk. Easy on the eyes and hard on the respiratory system.

  “Okay, and clearly you’re not getting the hint, so I’ll be on my way to the next quiet, dark hole in this place.” As he moved toward the exit, he kept that measured distance from me. “You on the swim team or something?”

  My forehead creased. “No.”

  “You’re soaked head to toe. Looks like you’ve just been in a pool.”

  I stabbed my finger in the direction of a couple of windows, getting the feeling this guy was having too much fun at my expense. “Rain.”

  “You know what part of the country you’re in, right?” When he gave half a smile, I could see the faintest gap between his top teeth. “Maybe you really do need this library more than I do.” Waving in the general direction of the middle of the library, he backed away through the door. “Geography is somewhere in that section. Start there, then maybe finish with a trip to the store for some rain gear. You know, unless showing up to school every day looking like you’re training for the summer Olympics is your thing.”

  I was struggling to form a comeback when he thumped the poster hanging above the door. “Make today great, Idid,” he recited in the most sarcastic tone I had yet to hear.

  My comeback finally came a minute later. A pathetic reply of “My name’s not Idid.”

  The rest of the day went like the morning—rough.

  The highlight so far was that I’d mostly dried out by the time third period finished.

  I settled on a table toward the front of the room, the emptiest by far. I’d never sat down to a school lunch alone before. Not once. But there were lots of firsts I was getting used to in this new life that had been carved out for me. In the scheme of things, sitting like a loner through a lunch wasn’t that bad.

  Unzipping my bag, I freed the brown paper lunch sack Nick had insisted I take. I dumped the contents on the table. It wasn’t frozen pizza, but it was still a good thing I wasn’t hungry.

  Beef jerky, a handful of some large nut that was still in the shell (pretty sure a plastic knife wasn’t up to the task of cracking open one of those babies), and finally, a bag of fruit snacks. Definitely not your typical lunch fare.

  I started to toss it all back into the bag, but as I was throwing in the fruit snacks, something made me pause. The brand was familiar. They were the same kind I’d loved as a kid. In the shape of X’s and O’s. I remembered being able to sucker Mom or Nick into playing a game or two before wolfing them down.

  I hadn’t had any since Mom read an article about high fructose corn syrup eight years ago and our cupboards had never been the same since. X’s and O’s. How was that for coincidence that the snacks had wound up in my lunch today?

  I wasn’t sure Nick would recall the color of my eyes if I wasn’t standing in front of him in bright light, so they had to be a random fluke. I popped one of the familiar gummy X’s into my mouth before tossing the rest.

  By the time sixth-period chemistry started, I felt like I really had gone to war. At least the high school equivalent.

  As was the trend for the day, I’d crossed the threshold just as the final bell was finishing. Seriously, sprinting between classes should have counted toward my PE credit.

  The teacher was typing at his computer, so I seized his distraction to glide onto the closest empty stool I could find. Maybe he’d take mercy on me and save the introduction hell.

  “In case you all missed that blaring sound just now, that was the bell, which means that for the next fifty-five minutes, your undivided attention is mine.” He glanced up from the desktop. The first place his eyes went was toward me.

  “We have a new student in class.”

  I slumped on my stool, wincing from the inevitable.

  “I trust you’ll show her the same amount of respect and concern you show me.” He paused, eyeing the handful of cell phones still in hands and conversations scattered around the room. “Oh wait. I take that back. I trust you’ll show her the respect and concern you fail to show me to any regular degree.”

  That got a slight reaction from the class, most of the students tucking their phones into their pockets or backpacks, most of the conversations coming to an end as well.

  “Ah, that’s the trick. Nothing like a little self-deprecation to get your attention.”

  An actual laugh echoed through the room.

  “For those of you who are new or new to tuning in to your esteemed teacher, I’m Mr. Johnson.”

  From the back of the room a one-off snort-laugh.

  “Ah, yes, Ethan. Never gets old when I announce my last name to a classroom of teenagers. It’s my way of distinguishing the mature ones from the others.” Mr. Johnson adjusted his plaid bow tie, moving toward the whiteboard. “Of course, you’d think two misfortunately last named individuals would stick together. Wouldn’t you, Mr. Wiener?”

  This time it was a definite burst of laughter. No muffled ones this round.

  “You’re in my seat.”

  I flinched first from the surprise, then again when I saw who it was standing beside my lab table. “It doesn’t have your name on it.” I gazed up front, pretending to be fascinated by whatever Mr. Johnson was going on about.

  For our teacher’s part, he didn’t seem to notice that a student had just trudged in late and said student was trying to intimidate me from my stool.

  “This is my seat.”

  I kept my attention on the whiteboard, though it wasn’t easy. Not with a particularly cute, massively huge guy hovering a few feet away.

  “Are they assigned?” I said.

  “It is for me,” he replied, slipping off his backpack and dropping it on the floor beside me.

  “That sounds like a no. Find another spot. Or are you some kind of troublemaker? Gotta sit up front where the teacher can see you
?”

  Instead of pressing the issue any longer, he snagged an empty stool and scooted it toward the table. “It’s been determined that I fit into the category of Does Not Play Well with Others.”

  “In case you didn’t notice, I fall into the category of ‘others.’ ” I moved farther down the table; more distance was better where this guy was concerned.

  Those dark eyes skimmed over me from the side, a crooked smile falling into place. “Consider me a skeptic, Idid.”

  “That’s not my name.”

  “Whatever you say,” he replied, turning his attention to Mr. Johnson, who was diving into a quick review of the periodic table.

  “Would you please just leave me alone?”

  He folded his arms over the table and rested his chin on them. “You got it, Idid.”

  Biting my tongue, I swallowed my reply.

  “The element for chemical symbol ‘A-S.’ ” Mr. Johnson circled his finger in the air before pointing it in the direction of a corner of the room. “Miss Fallon. ‘A-S.’ ”

  “Miss Fallon” had this put-out scowl on her face.

  She glimpsed at the periodic table.

  “I don’t know. Hydrogen,” she replied in a bored voice, smacking loudly on her gum.

  Mr. Johnson sighed. “That answer makes me question my life’s work, Miss Fallon. Congratulations.”

  She rolled her eyes while Mr. Johnson set his sights on the next student. The one sitting beside me.

  “Mr. Remington. ‘A-S.’ ” Mr. Johnson braced himself for another answer of the helium or silver caliber.

  “Arsenic.”

  Mr. Johnson’s face went blank for a moment. “That’s correct. And thank you, Mr. Remington, for reaffirming my life’s calling. Albeit temporarily, until one of you answers ‘C-A’ with ‘California.’ Isn’t that right, Mr. Schroder?”

  A student with a sideways baseball cap gave a little bow while his surrounding classmates chuckled.

  The rest of the class went the same way. Mr. Johnson hammered in as much information as possible with wry humor and spouts of laughter mixed in between. I’d taken my notebook, but at the end of the period, all I’d written down was the date. I’d learned the periodic table at the beginning of the year at my old school.