“Want a drink or some candy?” I ask Michaela during intermission. From the way she’s looking at her phone, texting with Micha, it’s clear that she’s planning on sneaking backstage. Sometimes I wonder if any of the others worry about her, like I do. I imagine it’d be easy to find yourself constantly feeling drowned out, having a twin brother with such a big personality.
But if that’s the case, she never shows it—is never anything but his biggest cheerleader. She looks at me, nodding. “Water and some Skittles?”
“You got it.”
Dad passes me some money and I head to the lobby, stretching my legs gratefully. As I head up the aisle, I pass a few people I recognize. Emory’s family is here, including his sister Vandy. Two years younger, she gives me a small, friendly-ish smile. As the other systematically isolated student at Preston, we’ve had an unspoken bond. Hers is out of protection, her brother making it clear no one is to mess with her. Me? I’d never think protection was part of the way people treat me at school, but Hamilton did say that was part of it, didn’t he? To make things easier on me than worse?
The concessions are a fundraiser for the dance program, so it’s packed. I wait in line for a long while, scrolling down my phone and ignoring the circus going on around me. That is, until I hear shrill laughter from across the room. I know that voice.
“Oh my god, right?” she cackles. “He doesn’t even pretend he’s not a fucking misfit. No wonder he had to have the lead. He just wanted an excuse to wear a skirt.”
Casually, I turn, tilting my head in the direction of Campbell’s obnoxious laughter. She’s standing next to one of the large promotional posters that have Micha front and center. It’s not surprising that she’s not alone. Emory is with her, as well as Heston, Reagan, and Ansel. I scan the area for Hamilton, but I don’t see him.
“I’m sure at their house this is the norm.” Heston says, flicking poster-Micha in the face. “It’s like all of them go out of their way to be massive freaks. Can you imagine living in that human reject pile, with the slutty blowjob freak and Morticia the robot freak?”
Campbell laughs. “It’s no wonder the other kids’ freaks are emerging.”
Heston looks at the poster and then frames it with his fingers, as if setting up a camera shot. “Queen of the freaks.”
Ansel cries, “Hear ye, hear ye!” and they all say, “All hail the queen!”
It’s my turn at the counter. My hands shake when I grab two waters out of the cooler, giving the student behind the table a limp smile as I request a pack of Skittles. I hand over the money and try to figure out how to get away without them seeing me. I know I shouldn’t hide, but honestly, it would take almost nothing right now for me to walk up and start throwing punches, and I don’t need the trouble that such an escalation would bring.
I cut through the crowd, paying more attention to the jerks behind me than where I’m going, and end up slamming right into someone.
“Sorry—” Strong hands steady my arms. I look up and grimace.
Hamilton stares back at me. “Watch where you’re going, Adams.”
Adams. I blink at him and see the aloof distance in his eyes. They dart to the side and that’s when I notice Xavier. He gives me a small smile and I twist out of Hamilton’s grip.
“Dude, your brother is awesome,” Xavier says. “I’m not a big fan of dance or anything, but he’s killing it.”
I try to smile back at him, but my face isn’t working. “Thank you, Xavier.”
A beat of awkwardness ebbs between the three of us.
He nods and looks between us. “I’ll, uh, meet you in few minutes.” He slaps Hamilton on the shoulder and strolls off. Before I can take another breath, I’m dragged into a small storage closet off the lobby.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes searching my face.
My laugh is a tight, acerbic thing. God, so many things are wrong. Too many to go into here. “Nothing.”
He rolls his beautiful gray eyes. “Gwendolyn.”
I look away. “Oh, so now I’m Gwendolyn.”
He sighs, face pinching sourly. “That’s what you’re mad about? Xavier was right there. I panicked.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Your friends are jerks.”
“This, and other news at ten.” He sighs and rakes his long fingers through his hair. “Seriously? We know they’re jerks. What did they do this time?”
I purse my lips, wondering if it would even do any good to explain. I eventually say, “They were out there in the lobby, mocking Micha. Loudly. I don’t think I need to tell you why they were making fun of him.”
He holds my eye. “Campbell is just bitchy because her sister wanted the part. You know the Clarkes can’t handle being told no. So yeah, she’s going to take it out on whoever she can—in this case, a kid.”
I shake my head, feeling my nostrils flare in frustration. “I don’t like it. This wasn’t your garden-variety childish, playful bullshit. They’re really, aggressively mean about it, and it makes me worried for him. Micha’s not like other kids—”