Aside from Dana, I was virtually invisible for the last whole semester at school. I never thought there could be a punishment worse than the ones Wills, Blair, and Astor came up with at the beginning of the school year—but I was wrong.
The only thing worse than having their attention for the wrong reasons was not having it at all.
For nearly six months I endured. Nothing I did or said could make them even look at me, so I kept my head down and made it through to the last day. I thought I’d be glad of the space between us, to not be hated and treated like I don’t exist for a couple months before I had to go back. I was wrong. All I’ve been able to do all summer is think of school.
And of them.
William Stryker, or Wills for short; the jock, king of anything he puts his impressive body to and fiercely protective. He saved me once from drowning, only for me to drown in the color of his eyes that matched the stormy waters.
Blair Rashnikov; the flirt with hair dyed a silvery-white color and the most dazzling green eyes full of mischief. There’s a nearly androgynous beauty to him outranked only by the spit-fire spirit that made my body melt into his each time we touched.
And then there’s Astor Hawthorne; the ringleader of the three, as well as the self-styled king of the school. His family founded the Hawthorne Academy about a century ago, and he’s not likely to let anyone forget it. It’s his legacy, and he guards it fiercely.
He’s the kind of handsome with a jawline for days, with dark golden-brown hair and eyes to match. Like Sadie once did, he has it all; wealth, looks, popularity … but unlike Sadie, he also has brains. I got through his impenetrable wall and found the soul hidden within last year. In the quiet moments, it’s this that aches the most—the fear that I’ll never again see the real Astor. The real man I know lies behind that cruel facade.
For a few, short weeks they were my family. I adored and was adored. Then they found out about my lies, about the theft of Sadie’s life, and none of them have spoken to me since. Their influence spread to the entire school until I became like a ghost; present but invisible to all.
Eight months. Eight months of deafening silence, and finally here, walking under the streetlamps of my old, run-down town … and I finally realize it’s over.
I can’t believe it took this long for me to see it. It took Rob—and that stunt he just tried to pull—for me to realize they aren’t going to swoop in and save me this time. My protectors have moved on. All that’s left is for me to try and do the same. It’s back to the beginning; Teddy Price, alone against the world.
The front door to the house is unlocked, even though it’s well after midnight at this point. Mrs. Martin is passed out on her bed with the door cracked open, as she’s want to do this many bottles in. Her snores rattle the cheap pictures hanging on the walls. She didn’t want to let me come back at all this summer, but she needed the money to keep funding her drinking habit.
Lucky me.
I’d planned to sneak past her straight to bed, but I spot a couple of the younger kids sitting in the corner of the kitchen floor eating dry cereal out of a plastic bag. They’re dirty and poorly dressed. I sigh and give them a smile.
“What are you doing up this late?” I ask, squatting down to their level and glancing over my shoulder towards Ms. Martin’s room. She’ll throw a fit if she finds them like this. These ones are new to the house and don’t know better. I catch sight of Cassie and Rachel peeking out from the bedroom down the hall and beckon them out too.
None of them say anything. They just look up at me with wide, terrified eyes.
“C’mon. I’ll make you something to eat.” I get them settled at the table and scrounge through half-empty beer cans until I find some leftover hotdogs from the back of the fridge to microwave.
All the while that I’m cooking, if it can even be called that, all I can think is that no one like Ms. Martin should be caring for children. I’m bitter about all the money I was blackmailed into sending to her so she’d keep her mouth shut about my identity at the school last year.
I’ve gotten a lot of it paid back, but I still owe some. What kind of a woman does that? But then again, what kind of a person steals the identity of a dead girl so she can go to school and have a different life?
A desperate person, that’s who.
I guess I shouldn’t throw stones at glass houses, but then I look at the kids hungrily scarfing down expired, rubbery hotdogs like they haven’t eaten in a week. At least I’m trying. My lies were discovered. I owned up to them, and I’m paying the price.
I used to think it could be worse, but now I’m not so sure. In a way, I’m the lucky one. I’ll be at school in days, and I don’t plan on ever coming back. They still have a whole life ahead of them. If it isn’t here—it’s somewhere else.
As if awakened by my thoughts, there’s a groan as Ms. Martin throws open the door to her bedroom and stumbles out, bleary-eyed and fuming. I step up to block her path while the kids shove a last mouthful of hotdog into their mouths before scattering.
Her voice is dry and raspy.
“What’re you doing here?” she snaps, blinking down at me like I’m a piece of garbage she forgot to throw out.
I can smell her, even from here and through the taste of cigarette smoke on my tongue. She’s clearly still drunk from the way she stands on her feet. Her robe hangs off her bony figure, revealing a thin and tattered nightgown beneath it.
One wrinkled, chalky hand points my way accusatorially.
“Leave them alone,” I say, glancing over my shoulder as the last of them ducks into one of the bedrooms. “You’re drunk.”
“You don’t—” she grunts and hiccups, “get to tell me what to do.”
She stops for a second and stares at the microwave for a long, teetering, moment. Now that the others are out of harm’s way, at least for now, my work is done. I start turning away, planning to head to bed before she inevitably passes out and starts puking on the kitchen floor again, but her next words make me freeze.