Authors: L A Cotton
I nodded. What else could I do when the woman sitting opposite me was giving me such a hopeful look?
“You have an appointment with the head of the high school, Mr. Spellman. I’m sure he’ll get you settled. I’ll pick you up today and then maybe tomorrow you can try the bus or Max could drive you? I’m sure your uncle wouldn’t mind.”
Yeah, right.
I nodded again and reached for the door handle. As I climbed out of the car and hitched my bag up my shoulders, I drew in a deep breath.
One year. You only have to survive one year of this shit.
For you.
For Penny.
“Thanks for the ride,” I called back to Miranda as she watched me walk up to the glass doors. She waved, and I headed inside.
The silver Porsche disappeared out of sight. It shouldn’t have bothered me; new situations were something you got used to growing up in foster care, but something about this place had me on edge.
I wasn’t private school material.
In tenth grade, I spent more time goofing around and getting into fights than I did studying. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do the work, I just preferred not to. Penny was always yanking my chain about my study habits. I doubted a school like this would appreciate a kid like me bringing down their reputation.
Penny.
A whole month away from her, and she still consumed my thoughts.
“Hello, can I help you?” An older lady with silver hair and thick rimmed glasses smiled up at me from her desk behind the counter.
“I’m the new kid. Blake Weston.”
She glanced me up and down, and her smile grew wider. “We’re pleased to have you, Blake. Welcome to Wellington. I’m Mrs. Freids, but you can call me Dorothy.”
Okay then.
My lips drew into a tight line, curling up at one side. She seemed genuine, but I hardly looked the part. My polo shirt was already creased and I’d opted not to wear the shoes Miranda had left out for me. I preferred my worn in chucks.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you down to Mr. Spellman’s office. He’s expecting you.”
We walked in silence down a long hallway before she stopped outside a door. There were two seats to the left and I smiled inwardly. At Lancaster High, I was well acquainted with the principal’s office.
Dorothy knocked, waited a couple of seconds, and then opened the door. “Good luck,” she whispered before ushering me inside. The door clicked shut behind me. My eyes took in the room. It was light and airy with a huge glass window overlooking a playing field. It looked like the football team was running drills.
“Welcome to Wellington, Mr. Weston. Please, have a seat,” said the man seated behind a huge desk positioned in front of the window. “I’m Dr. Spellman.”
“Doctor?” The word just tumbled out, and I silently cursed. Taking a seat opposite him, I dropped my bag and sat rigid.
A slight smile broke over his face causing his eyes to wrinkle around the corners. “Doctor of Education.”
I tipped my chin and waited. Spellman leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and clasped his hands while he regarded me. “I’m good friends with your uncle. I feel confident your time here at Wellington will be smooth and enriching. I have taken a quick look at your files from Lancaster, and I think you have a lot of potential, son. We just need to…” His lips curved into a slight smile. “Focus your energies.”
“I just want to graduate high school… sir.”
“Of course, Blake. I understand this must be a difficult transition for you, so how about we give it some time. Let you settle and find your feet here at Wellington.”
“Okay.” What else was there to say? It wasn’t as if I had much choice in the matter. Until I turned eighteen, my life belonged to Anthony and Miranda. He had made that perfectly clear.
“I’ve arranged for a student to help you settle. Brittany.”
I turned around, following Spellman’s line of sight. A girl in a Wellington uniform sat in the corner of the room. She smiled at me, and I gave her a slight nod. I didn’t need—or want—a babysitter. Especially, not queen bee over there.
“Hi, I’m Brittany Arnold. Our families are good friends.”
I bristled. I might have shared the same name as Anthony and Miranda, but they were not my family. The only family I had was back in Lancaster.
“Blake,” I replied curtly.
She smiled again and smoothed her long blond hair over her shoulder. She was one of
those
girls; the mean girls who thought they were above everyone else. Just like the girls at Lancaster High who made Penny’s life hell. It oozed from her fake smile.
“I can show you to second period?”
“Blake, I trust you’ll be okay in Miss Arnold’s hands?”
Penny’s face flashed in my mind, and I wanted to close my eyes and lose myself in her chocolate eyes. But I couldn’t. Spellman was burning holes into my head, and Brittany was looking at me as if she wanted to do more than just show me to second period.
Fuck.
I
stayed off work all week. Every time Mary called, I lied and said I was still attending to the ‘family emergency.’ I hated to lie, and guilt weighed heavy on my mind, but the alternative was worse. Part of me wanted to quit. I’d even written out my resignation letter, but something was holding me back. My heart was ready to walk away, to shut itself off and live a life of meaningless solitude again, but this time, my head refused to accept it had to be that way.
When Friday rolled around again, I knew it was crunch time. I wasn't being fair to Mary, and I needed to know if I was going to be looking for work again.
And I needed air.
I’d avoided leaving the apartment for fear of someone from Touch of Class noticing me. Like now, as I hurried along the sidewalk en route back to The Oriental Garden from the store. I’d finally run out of lavender scented candles and air fresheners and feared the smell of fried egg rolls was going to suffocate me.
In the short time from leaving my apartment to exiting the store, dusk had settled over Clintonville. I pulled my jacket tighter as I turned off the high street into the alley separating The Oriental Garden and Bernie’s Bar. It was only just after six, but it was a Friday night and college students didn’t need an excuse to start their weekend early. Usually, the crowds of students spilled out onto the street smoking and drinking paid me little attention, but it didn’t stop me from holding my breath every time.
A couple of guys wolf whistled at me as I moved past them, but it deflected off me as my pace quickened. Focused only on reaching the stairwell to my apartment, I rounded the last corner and walked straight into somebody.
“Shit,” a startled voice said.
“Marissa?” I asked, stepping back and blinking to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me.
“The one and only,” she smirked rubbing a hand where our heads had bumped. Without thinking, I launched myself at her wrapping my arms around her slender figure. She laughed and hugged me back. I didn’t flinch or step out of her grasp—I embraced the feeling. Until now, I hadn’t realized just how much I missed her. Marissa had played as much of a role in my summer—my healing—as Blake had.
Almost.
“I’ve missed you.”
“I know.” Marissa stepped back holding me at arm’s length. “Douchebag guys look good on you. You need to tell me your secret. Now, are you going to make me stand out here all night or are you going to invite me up?”
Oh, shit.
Marissa was here, standing outside of my apartment. The one that had damp rot, smelled like fried foods, and had no internet.
“Hmm, it’s not exactly homey.” I dropped my eyes; I regretted leaving it until the last possible minute to fetch more air fresheners.
“Please, I couldn’t give a shit. We spent the whole summer sleeping on cots and being eaten alive by bugs.”
She had a point.
“Okay, well, follow me.”
Marissa didn’t say a word as I led her into the apartment. I hit the lights and dumped the bags on the counter. When I turned around, Marissa was standing with her arms folded across her chest with her nose pointed into the air. “What in holy hell’s name is that smell?”
I winced eyeing the bag containing the lavender air fresheners.
If only you’d arrived an hour later.
“Fried egg rolls with a hint of lavender,” I said as if it was a normal everyday scent.
Marissa lurched, fake gagging, and then burst into laughter. “Lavender egg rolls? That’s fucking disgusting.”
“Tell me about it,” I replied through my own laughter. “Coffee?”
“I might need something stronger than coffee to help me forget the stench.”
“Expresso?”
“Geez.” Marissa rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re like party central up here.”
I made us both coffee and joined Marissa on the threadbare couch sitting quietly while she glanced around the apartment. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“It’s not much, but it’s all I have.”
“You’re a bit of a mystery, Penny Wilson, but I love you for it.” Her endearment rendered me speechless. We had forged a close friendship over the summer, but I wasn’t sure it would extend much outside of Camp Chance. Marissa was full of surprises.
“It’s so good to see you, and don’t take this the wrong way, but what the hell are you doing here, Marissa? You never mentioned coming to visit.” Marissa had an apartment in Mansfield just south of Akron. She had just started work as a fitness instructor at a private health club.
“Call this a friend intervention,” she stated before taking a mouthful of coffee.
“Intervention?”
“Penny, don’t you think I know what this last week has been about? You’re in some kind of post-Blake funk, and I know you’re thinking about quitting your job. Which, by the way, is a ridiculous idea.” Marissa’s eyes roamed over the room again, and I could see her mind ticking over.
My fingers gripped my mug tighter, and I stared down at the steaming dark liquid. “I haven’t decided what to do.”
“Penny, you can’t quit. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”
“Her?” My head whipped up to meet Marissa’s face, and she smiled sadly. “Okay, them. Don’t give
them
the satisfaction.”
“It’s not about giving them the satisfaction, Marissa. It’s about not putting myself through that again.” I placed my mug on the table. “When I saw him sit down beside her, I thought there must be some kind of mistake. Even though I’d seen Blake kiss her, I didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it. But then I heard his uncle announce their engagement, and I almost puked right there in the middle of the gala dinner.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks and dropped off my chin onto my sweater. Marissa cursed under her breath and set down her mug, reaching out for my hand. “Penny, I can’t imag-”
“Don’t. I spent the last seven years of my life closed off, Marissa. Do you know what it’s like to live each day feeling numb? Void? Blake was a part of that. Not all of it, sure, but some. Seeing him again was like a dream. All my worst nightmares and fairy tales rolled into one. And I tried to deal with that, in my own way, but then he started proclaiming he never forgot? That he still feels things for me? What am I supposed to do with that?” My chest hurt—I couldn’t tell if it was from the rush of words or the memories, but I needed air. Inhaling deeply, I let the stale air fill my lungs and give me the energy I needed to continue.
“I tried so hard to keep my past in the past, but he refused to stay there. Blake wormed his way back into my heart, and I let him. He told me he had someone, Marissa, and I still let him in. What the hell is wrong with me?”
Marissa released my hand only to wrap me in her arms. I sank into her comfort overcome by emotion. When was the last time I’d let someone hold me like this?
Blake.
Blake was the last person.
It always came back to Blake.
“Nothing is wrong with you. You did what anyone in your shoes would have done. You were confused and blindsided.” She hesitated. I felt it in her. “You should call him,” Marissa all but whispered.
I tore myself out of her arms and stared at her as if she’d just grown a second head. “Wh-what?”
“Blake. You should call Blake.”
“Did you just hear anything I just said? I can’t call him. He’s engaged, Marissa, engaged,” I said as if repeating it would make it any less painful. “There was a time when I thought we were the same, but we’re not. We’re from different worlds. Blake lives in a world I’ll never fit in. He’s freaking high society or something.” I was starting to sound hysterical.
“Penny, just hear me out, please.”
I shook my head frantically as my hold on reality started to slip.
I couldn’t lose myself to him.
To her.
Because if I lost myself again, who would bring me back this time? I was all out of second chances. With a strange sense of resolution, I said, “No, Marissa, it’s done. I refuse to live in the past. I can’t. No more, I- I just can’t.”