He lights a cigarette then throws the pack of Marlboro Reds on the table, exhaling a long string into the sky. Cindy waves it away. “How many times have I told you? Take that shit outside.”
With another grumble, he swipes the pack off the table, takes his mug, and pushes through the back screen door.
“He’s pleasant in the morning,” I joke.
“You’ll get used to him.” She pulls out the chair in front of the plate of food. “Now, eat up before it gets cold.”
I can’t remember the last time I ate breakfast, let alone a steaming pile of home-cooked eggs. Sarah was a good mom but a terrible cook. We lived on takeout until she made enough money to hire someone to cook all of our meals. I devour every morsel on my plate without coming up for air.
Cindy’s warning is long forgotten as I gather my bags for school. Jace sits on the stoop, his back curled as he leans his elbows on his thick thighs. I step out into the morning sun, squinting my eyes. He flicks his cigarette butt into the yard and rises as I come up beside him, then stomps toward the truck while I continue on the dirt path. “Where the hell you goin’?”
His voice carries on the breeze and sends a flock of birds flying from the trees. I stop short. “The bus stop.”
He rolls his eyes and blows a laugh out his nose. “Just get in the truck, Ellie.”
I watch him climb in, waiting to see if he’s serious. When he punches the horn, I do an about-face. I climb in beside him and pull the door closed. “Thank you. I appreciate the ride.”
“Whatever,” he mumbles. The engine comes to life with a roar, and we drive off in a cloud of dust.
Every so often, I think I see his gaze drop to my bare legs before lifting back to the road. I convince myself it’s all in my head, but I can’t ignore the soft caress of his pinky while he’sshifting gears. Is he doing it on purpose or on accident? Either way, a single touch is enough to have me squirming in my seat.
Rusty pickup trucks line the lot at Hell’s Bend High School. I scan the rows of Fords and Chevys, American flags decorating their windows. My stomach twists in knots. I jump down from the cab and unconsciously wrap both hands around the strap on my shoulder as if I’m worried someone will come along and steal my backpack.
Jace hops out and immediately disappears into the school. As I watch the students file in, my breath hitches in panic. Jeans, T-shirts … the sporadic cowboy hat. I thought my outfit was casual, but now I understand what Cindy meant. My gaze drops to the ring on my finger. The tumbling row of emerald-cut diamonds glints in the sun, reminding me of everything Mom taught me before she died.
If you walk into the room as if you own the place, it won’t be long until you do.
With my head held high, I filter in amongst the crowd and stop when I see the main office. My heels clack on the tile floor. I approach the desk and wriggle some life into my trembling fingers. “I’m Ellie Cartwright. Today is my first day. I was told to report to the office to get my schedule.”
The large woman behind the desk does a double take. “Oh,” she says, tapping on the keyboard in front of her. She ducks to make a quick call, then leans into a microphone and pushes a large red button. Her announcement cries overhead. “Chris Boone, please report to the main office.”
A few moments later, a girl with short red hair pushes through the doors. “Hi. You must be Ellie.” She stands with her arms at her sides, a silver chain swooping at her thigh and disappearing beneath her Faith No More tee. My first thought is that she’s in desperate need of a makeover, but when she smiles, it lights up her face in a way that makes her beautiful regardless of the man-sized clothing and holey sneakers. “I’m Chris. I’ll be helping you get to your classes today.”
Relief drops my shoulders from my ears. “Oh great. I have no idea where I’m going.”
Same as Cindy this morning, Chris’s gaze runs down the length of my body. “You’re not from Texas, are you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Let’s just say you look straight up out ofVoguemagazine, and this here’s probably more of aGuns and Ammocrowd.”
I blow out a strong breath. So much for making a good impression. The secretary prints my schedule and slides it across the expansive desk. I hold it with my thumb and forefinger, looking down at the small type font. “Looks like my first class is history with Mr. Brenner.”
“Oh,” Chris says with a mischievous grin. “You’re with me, then.” She turns on her heel and pushes open the door for me to walk through, then follows. The halls are mostly clear now, save for a few stragglers roaming about. Chris falls in step beside me. “So where are you from?”
“Tri-state.” Lines form across her small nose, and I smirk. “New York, New Jersey area,” I explain. The idea that this isn’t common knowledge across the United States feels wrong to me. The tri-state is the hub of the world. It’s the center of everything: arts and theater, culture and business. If the United States were a body, New York would be its brain.
My lips stretch into a full smile. I guess that means Texas would be its butt.
“Is it how it looks on TV?”
“No, but it’s still the best city in the world, and I hope to get back there someday.”
“What brought your family to Texas?”
My stomach hardens. I lick my lips, letting the berry taste of my gloss melt on my tongue. “I like your accent,” I say, changing the subject.
The corners of her eyes crinkle with her lazy grin. “I don’t have an accent.Youhave an accent.”