This mission is necessary. I need to find out more about Blair. Knowledge is ammunition to my arsenal against her.
I rifle through the first drawer and come up empty. Dragging out the next, I flick through the thick and thin files. Dabrowski…Dacosta…Daniels…Davis!
Smirking, I pull out the manila folder and lean against the file cabinet. The more recent stuff is obvious—dismissal from the track team, student lunch program paperwork from the state, suspension and detention slips.
There are a few late excuses from the first week of school, dated before she broke into my garage to steal my Porsche. One explains Blair took her mom to the hospital as her reason for arriving during third period.
My eyes narrow. Is this why she needed money? To take care of her mom’s hospital bills?
It tugs at my core. Jealousy runs down my spine in an icy-hot slide. Blair has to have a strong connection with her mom to be the only person around by her side each time she has to go to the doctor.
I trace over Blair’s handwriting. It must be nice.
When I picture myself doing the same, it’s difficult to imagine what it should feel like to take a parent to the doctor. Would I be anxious? Would they reassure me everything would be fine?
In my pocket, my phone’s silence screams at me. It’s been days since I’ve heard anything from my parents.
They could’ve died and I wouldn’t know about it.
I could’ve died and they wouldn’t care.
Agitated, I drag my fingers through my hair, wincing when I pull too hard and rip a few strands from my scalp. A rough sigh makes my shoulders sag. This is about Blair, not me.
Digging through the file, I discover more late slips from last year that mention additional hospital related incidents. It’s far more hospitalizations than normal. My gut tightens as I consider the first thing that comes to mind in situations like this—an abusive father or maybe the mom has a fucked up boyfriend putting her in the hospital repeatedly.
It sends an unwarranted pang of worry spearing through me.
I freeze, shocked at the unfamiliar feeling. My brows furrow as I shove the unnecessary protectiveness aside.
Unbelievable. I’m searching for ammo against her, but here I am fucking worrying that she has a dangerous home life. What is wrong with me?
I already told her I’m not her white knight.
There isn’t room for sympathy, only the ways I can use information to control the pieces on the board. Blair’s mom could be a drug addict, using up city resources for free care. I shouldn’t give a fuck about their home life.
I scoff and flip earlier, reading over comments from her teachers at middle and elementary school. They all say roughly the same thing about her.
Blair shows great aptitude for the material and appreciates the challenges presented. She has a strong interest in art and history subjects. Individual work is excellent, but in class she is quiet and slow to participate.
Miss Davis is polite and reserved, but often isolates herself from her peers.
Blair shows great intelligence in her school work given the recent changes in her family situation. However, she has gone from a bright, smiling, happy young girl to withdrawn. When other classmates engage her, she shies away.
A frown tugs at my lips.
The alarm finally shuts off. Glancing at the clock, I realize I need to hurry up. There isn’t time to run to the copy machine in the other room, and I don’t want to leave behind evidence. My phone will have to do.
I lay out the folder on the chair, flipping quickly through the pages and snapping photos of Blair’s pitiful history.
Smart but sad, how cliche.
A jagged rock lodges in my stomach, sitting heavy.
My grip tightens on the phone. She’s not like me. It’s not the same.
I work backwards through everything, caring more about the relevant information than what a delight she was to her preschool teacher. A creased note on an earlier page near the beginning of the file makes me pause. I missed it in my first skim. Flipping it open, I find it’s from a guidance counselor at Little Boulder Academy.
“Huh.” The curious sound puffs out of me before I can contain it.