Prologue - Sam
Can anyone ever really belong without truly accepting who they are in the first place?
That was the question Sam should have been asking herself. In reality, all she was contemplating at this moment was how fast she could get out of the room. Out of the building. Out of the state.
In fact, had an alien spaceship landed on the pristine grounds before her, trying to scoop her up and carry her off into oblivion, she was sure she would have gone running to meet it.
The air had become stifling and the summer heat wave hadn’t even truly begun yet. Summers in South Carolina were meant to come with permanent air conditioning, and even though she eyed the vent sitting to her right and knew it was blowing practical flurries of ice in her direction, she couldn’t stop the sweat that continued to form at her brow.
She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be anywhere but here.
A quick look down at her nails proved she shouldn’t have let Kristin talk her into getting a manicure the previous day. Half of the polish was already chipped off from her nervous picking habit. She reached up to twist her fiery red curls around her finger—another nervous tic—and then remembered she had it perfectly pulled back into a proper bun.
She just needed to stay still. Still and quiet and perfect. Per usual.
She was so busy planning her escape, she didn’t even hear him at first. When he spoke the second time, a little louder and from directly behind her ear, she jumped in surprise. The ice water in her hand splashed slightly on the marbled floor below.
“Huh?” Sam turned, finding Christian staring down at her, a worried look plastered on his perfectly shaven face. She knew that face all too well, considering they had spent more time than not circling through the same foster homes.
Sam had lived in six counties and eight foster homes from the time she entered the system at birth until she’d aged out at eighteen. She’d almost been adopted twice, but both attempts had fallen through.
She’d never known her parents. She didn’t feel bad about it, most people in her situation didn’t know their parents. Instead of nightly dinners and parents who cheered her on from the sidelines, Sam got indifferent foster mothers and creepy foster fathers who, at times, stepped over the line. Sometimes, thinking back on the inconsistency of her childhood made her head spin.
But there was always a silver lining in every story. That's what she told herself. And maybe learning how to cope with the inconsistencies thrown her way over the years as opposed to panicking through them was what had gotten her to where she was at this moment. Which was preparing to begin her junior year of undergrad with a declaration of pre-med, plans to submit applications to seventeen med school applications she’d end up
spending most of her savings on submitting, a 4.0 GPA, a mediocre part-time job, $47.82 in her bank account that was somehow supposed to last her the next ten days, and absolutely no social life.
The last part didn’t bother her as much as the rest. She’d never really cared to be part of some big group of people who focused more on what they were doing from Thursday through Saturday than on wondering where their next meal would come from.
“I said, ‘Are you okay?’” Christian questioned further as he reached out to tuck one of her wayward red curls back into submission.
Ugh,she thought as she tried to subdue the curl back around the bun.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just hot as hell up there.” Sam eyed the stairwell that led to the upper ballroom full of people she knew she could never truly impress.
“Sam, this room is practically an ice box.” Christian swung his hands out as if the motion would magically reveal the invisible crystals that lingered in the air. “Are you sure you aren’t sick or something?” He placed his beer on the counter beside them and reached out to sweep the back of his hand across her freckled forehead; a trick they had seen so many guardians do over the years.
She quickly batted him away.
“I’m fine. I promise,” she all but groaned.
“Is this about your speech later?”
“What? No. No.” She placed her drink beside his and began fussing with the hem of her dress, the one she had found the previous week at a secondhand shop. She was hoping no one would notice she’d had to mend it in seven different places to hide the fact it was most definitely not new. “I’m completely fine with that speech,” she lied. “I’ve been working on it for weeks, and I’m sure–”
“Samantha Williams?” the gratingly high-pitched voice came barreling down the stairs along with the clicking of heels and a shockingly short designer dress.
Mrs. Saunders.
The dreaded Mrs. Saunders had a face that barely moved due to years of plastic surgery, but was still somehow able to form a perfect scowl.
Mrs. Saunders was the current head of The Giving Hearts Foundation board, which oversaw her scholarship, making sure recipients met all standards and expectations. Thankfully, this was the last luncheon that would be held while she still presided overthe board. That single thought was what kept Sam from fleeing the room. In another week, the new board members would take over and Mrs. Saunders would no longer have control over her.Thank fuck.
“Right here!” Sam called out.
“We’re ready for you.”
“R-Ready for me? Now? Already?” Sam swallowed, not knowing if she was just throwing some PVCs or if her heart was really about to give out.