A peculiar sensation came over me, a strong feeling that I didn’t belong in that house. For the first time since I’d left Gina’s, I missed the ugly, matted shag carpet and the lopsided fan in my bedroom. The walls in this room weren’t scuffed or peeling, and the carpet was too clean. The fixtures in the bathroom weren’t dripping or caked with some kind of scum, and the dresser drawers didn’t whine when I opened them. It smelled like Downy dryer sheets and a clean, sophisticated smell unique to Sam and Julianne. The bed was too comfortable. The sheets too soft.
I didn’t belong with Gina, and I didn’t fit into Alder’s life. There wasn’t enough time to try. The hot chocolate suddenly sounded fantastic, but I didn’t want to wake the other two people who lived in the house. A fleeting thought crossed my mind that I sort of wished they drank too much or got high so I could walk around in the middle of the night if I wanted, but then I felt so guilty for it, I could barely stand to be in my own skin.
Chapter 3
“WHAT IS THAT?” Weston asked as we walked toward the Chevy.
I turned to see him pointing at my backside. Like a dog chasing its tail, I made a three-sixty in the the front yard, trying to see what he was pointing at.
He chuckled and stopped me, pulling the smartphone from my back pocket.
“This.”
“Oh. Julianne gave it to me last night.”
“It’s a phone.”
“I know.”
“Does it work?”
“I think so. I haven’t turned it on.”
He handed it back to me with a smirk on his face. “You haven’t turned it on? Why not?”
I shrugged and proceeded to the truck. “I didn’t have time to read the directions. I don’t know how.”
After Weston and I settled into our seats and buckled our seat belts, he held out his hand. I took it. Then he held out his other hand.
I frowned. “Are we making a secret handshake?”
His amusement turned into a full-blown cackle. “The phone, Erin! Give me your phone so I can give you the crash course.”
I handed it over, and he instructed me on how to turn it on, add contacts, and send text messages. He even added a couple of songs and showed me how to listen to them.
“The most important thing during school is this,” he said, flipping a tiny switch on the side with the little bit of thumbnail he had. “It makes your ringer silent. You can change your ring tone if you want. I can show you that later.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just something people do to make it their own. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you should definitely keep it on silent. If your ringer goes off during class, you might get your phone taken away.”
“Who’s going to call me during school?”
“I might text you if I knew your number.” He tapped the screen twice and then grabbed his phone, punching in more numbers. “Never mind. Got it.”
I took back the phone. “Maybe I didn’t want you to have it,” I teased, but then realization dawned on me, and I felt a little sad. “You’re probably the only person who’ll use it.” The phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked down. It was a text message.
Weston leaned over and showed me how to open it.
It’s Sam (Dad). Don’t forget about dinner. See you tonight. Have a good day at school.
Will do, I typed back, and let the phone fall in my lap. The corners of my mouth curled up.
“Who was it?” Weston asked, clearly unhappy about the look on my face.
“Sam,” I said. “He was reminding me about dinner tonight.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, his brows still furrowed. He drove away from our neighborhood toward the school. He seemed lost in thought, using his signal and going the speed limit like he’d done a hundred times before. But he didn’t say anything else until we parked in the student lot and walked inside.
This time he didn’t try to hold my hand. He put his arm around me, walked me to my locker, and kissed my hair.
“See you after class,” he said, walking away. The juniors and sophomores who had lockers along the same unit stared at me, surprised at the unusual show of affection.
I put my backpack in my locker, grabbed my bio textbook, and headed to class. My table was empty when I arrived, but then so were several others. I was early, so it was a good time to put my homework on Mrs. Merit’s desk. Thinking ahead and doing things in a way that would draw the least amount of attention was a part of me. It would probably always be.
Just as I returned to my chair, Brady Beck strolled in and sat in Sara Glenn’s seat across from me. Instinct had me recoiling, and then I was immediately embarrassed that I did so.
He seemed to enjoy it. “Did you ask him?”
“Ask who what?”
“Weston. Why he’s so interested in you all of a sudden.”
“We’ve already talked about all of that.”
“Then he didn’t tell you the truth.”
“Why don’t you just say what you want me to hear, and we can be through with it?”
Brady’s eyes sparkled with the many things playing out behind them. He was considering his options, what he wanted to say, and whether the outcome would be what he wanted.
“Nah,” he said, pushing back the chair and standing up. He sat down in his own chair, still staring at me. “You can take the girl out of the trailer park…”
I looked down at my phone and pressed the button Weston showed me to push. His name was on the screen, and I smiled, knowing he’d put his number into my contacts. It was nice to have a short conversation with him to keep me distracted while the class filled with sleepy students.
“Did the Aldermans get you that?” Brady asked.
The dozen or so students who had filtered in and sat down all turned to look at me.
I didn’t look up.
“What does it feel like to benefit from the death of someone else?”
I still didn’t respond.
“I can’t believe they’re just letting you take over her life like that, as if she never existed.”
I pressed different buttons on my phone, anything to distract myself.
“Julianne has never been that smart—”
“Shut your fucking mouth!” The words pushed from my throat before I could stop them. My ribs were pressed against the table, my palms flat against the many inscriptions that past and present students had carved into the black, slate surface.