Ungifted

by Kelly Oram

  “Nothing!” I snapped. I glanced around the room nervously—I’d caused quite a scene and everyone in the waiting room was gawking at me—but Andrew was nowhere in sight. “Never mind, Randy. He’s gone now. It was just this kid my own age that hit on me and was a little too forward. Not exactly a national emergency.”

  I knew a lecture was coming because Dad was sitting at the table eating breakfast when I came downstairs the next morning for school. I glanced at him as I poured myself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. “You’re not gone yet.”

  “Do you want the good news first or the bad?” he asked.

  “Does it really matter since good news to you is never actually good news to me?”

  Dad finally looked up from his Blackberry. “The good news is there was nothing in the media this morning about your blunder at school or you trip to the emergency room yesterday.”

  “My twelve hour trip?”

  I didn’t manage to ruffle his feathers with that. Whatever the bad news was, he was prepared to give it.

  “I’ve decided it’s time to get you your own security.”

  “What? Dad, no!”

  “I probably should have done it back when I announced my candidacy.”

  “But Dad, I’m already the biggest freak in school as it is. I don’t need to call more attention to myself by adding an entourage.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re so upset about. We’re quite ahead in the polls, and if we win this election you will get your own secret service detail anyway. What’s a few weeks early? Besides, there are quite a few other students at Atherton who have their own protection.”

  “Yeah, the biggest freaks.”

  My dad raised an eyebrow at me. I hate it when he does that. “I thought you just told me you were the biggest freak in school,” he argued.

  “Fine, I’m not. But I definitely will be. Dad, Atherton is basically a maximum-security prison already. That was the point of enrolling me there.”

  “And what about when you aren’t in school? You were pretty shaken up last night, Grace.”

  “I told you, that was nothing. It was just some stupid boy. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  “If you had someone with you, then situations like last night could be avoided entirely.”

  “Yeah, because then no guy would ever try to talk to me in the first place. Creep or otherwise. Or is that what you’re going for?”

  My dad sighed. It was the first sign of human emotion I’d seen in him all morning. “Grace, I don’t just mean your scare. If you’d had someone with you last night, you wouldn’t have had to wait for me.”

  I put down my spoon and pushed away my bowl of cereal since I’d suddenly lost my appetite. “So it’s not really a security guard you want. It’s a babysitter. You’re doing this to me because you feel guilty for neglecting me.”

  “Grace.”

  “Don’t try to pull your powerhouse politician’s voice on me. I’m your daughter, not your opponent.”

  “Exactly. And this isn’t a debate. I am hiring you a personal security guard, and whomever I choose you will obey and treat with respect.”

  I shut up. There was no point. You can’t argue with a man who is a shoo-in to be the next President of the United States. Especially not when he’s your dad and ultimately in control of your life.

  The most I could hope for was making him feel like crap for ruining my life, and even that’s hard to do. “You don’t even care what I think, do you?”

  “Not on this particular subject, no. What I care about is your safety.”

  “Well, at least you care about something,” I said as I dumped my breakfast in the sink. “Because you clearly don’t care about my happiness.”

  My dad rolled his eyes, something his image consultant would jump all over his case about if he ever did in public—and also a habit he passed down to me. “That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think, Grace?”

  I grabbed my backpack and hobbled to the front door. Normally I wouldn’t say anything else, but after he couldn’t even make it to the hospital when I’d been carted there in an ambulance, I couldn’t hold back. “Honestly, Dad?” I said, surprising us both when my voice cracked. “At this point, I think I’d be happier if you just shipped me off to boarding school in some foreign country. At least then we wouldn’t have to keep up the pretense that you actually want me in your life.”

  “Grace.”

  I shook my head and walked out on him. I left the house, not even caring that I would be a half-hour early for school.

  Randy, who kindly played chauffeur after witnessing our fight, stopped me before I got out of the car. “It really is a smart thing to do, Grace. He was very worried about you after seeing you so upset last night.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “I’ll be helping him with the interviews today. Any special requests?”

  “Sure. Someone as kick-ass as the Punisher, hotter than Taylor Lautner, and who has zero interest in kissing up to my father.”

  Randy laughed. “Sorry, Gracie, I’m already spoken for.”

  I actually cracked a smile. “Just don’t let him pick some creepy, brooding, silent-type, please?”

  “I’ll see what I can manage.” And then, because I tripped getting out of the car, he asked, “Do you need some help getting inside?”

  “I got it.” I sighed. “Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll fall down the stairs and kill myself on the way to class. Everyone’s problems would be solved then.”

  Randy’s face dropped. “Grace, are you really all right?”

  When I realized exactly how serious I’d just sounded, I plastered my best fake smile on my face. Luckily, that’s the one thing I have managed to perfect over the years since I spend so much time making a fool of myself in public. “I was just kidding. I’m fine. Thanks for the ride this morning.”

  “Chin up, Gracie. I promise I’ll try to get you someone cool.”

  . . . . .

  I managed to get to my first class twenty minutes early—and I did it without killing myself. I would have looked at this as good news, except that the classroom wasn’t empty. Ethan Dunn was already present and accounted for. On the bright side, he had his eyes closed, so I was able to slip into my chair without him noticing I was there.

  I lifted my leg up onto my desk, figuring that doodling on my cast would keep me from looking behind me every five seconds. I’d never been so confrontational with anyone as I was with Ethan yesterday. I was afraid of what his revenge was going to be. Most likely he’d find a way to humiliate me in front of everyone—not that that would be much of an accomplishment.

  After a minute, I felt his shadow looming behind me. “You’re good,” he admitted with an insulting amount of surprise as he motioned to my picture.

  I didn’t get why he was talking to me, but he was waiting for a response, so I shrugged. “Everyone needs an escape. Drawing is one of mine.”

  “Is that Cynthia as a werewolf?” he asked conversationally.

  I looked down at my sketch. It wasn’t the best since I was drawing on plaster, but I took some pride in the fact that he could recognize the wolf girl as Cynthia. I nodded. “She’d make a good werewolf.”

  “You a fan of werewolves?”

  It was so weird that he sounded genuinely curious, but whatever. At least he wasn’t being a jerk.

  “Vampires get all the glam, but werewolves are cooler. Way more fierce and a lot less brooding.”

  I realized what kind of a nerd my confession made me sound like, but what did I care? I was already branded a freak. Better to own it, right? I figured Ethan would tease me, but he just said, “What about angels?”

  “Lame.”

  “Why? You don’t think angels are fierce?”

  “Not especially. Plus, they’re usually too pretty, and for some reason they always have lots of emotional baggage.”

  Ethan scoffed at that, and I finally pulled my eyes up from my drawing. I was clearly amusing him, and it
looked like he was annoyed by that fact. “What do you want, Ethan?”

  “Just trying to be nice. By your definition. Thought maybe it would cheer you up.”

  Of course. Because Ethan Dunn’s attention should be a dream come true for me. I went back to my doodling and mumbled, “Thought wrong.”

  I really needed to stop muttering things around Ethan because he apparently had the ears of Superman. He totally heard me and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. Thankfully we were spared the awkwardness of further conversation, because Cynthia bounded into the room and practically tackled me out of my chair.

  “Tell me everything!” she squealed. “What does he look like? Did he ask you out? Was it love at first sight?”

  “You met someone?” Ethan asked. He could have at least tried to hide his shock.

  Cynthia nodded enthusiastically. “And you never called me back!” she said to me. “So, spill. Right now!”

  Ethan looked inexplicably curious, but at least he had the tact to bow out of the conversation. Once he was back in his own seat, Cynthia settled into the desk next to mine ready for the story. “Start with what he looked like,” she insisted.

  I glanced back at Ethan. He’d pulled out a book, not paying the least bit of attention to us. Still, knowing he had heard me from across the room last night, I lowered my voice to barely a whisper. “Actually…” I looked down at my cast and began to start a different drawing. One of Andrew with fangs and a cape. “He looked like a vampire.”

  It was okay to say this because Cynthia already knew that underneath my girl-next-door-politician’s-daughter exterior I’m a hardcore geek. She’s actually the one who got me into all the fantasy stuff. She’s always recommending me books, and she’s obsessed with Jensen Ackles, so Thursday nights are Supernatural nights. Always. Watching those Winchester boys fight monsters every week has become a ritual even my dad wouldn’t dare interrupt.

  “A vampire, huh?” Cynthia wrinkled her nose. Like me, she’s much more a fan of werewolves than vampires.

  “Yeah, you know—somewhere between Greek god and underwear model. Dark, almost-black hair; pale, almost-white skin; liquid-gold eyes, and a definite danger vibe. I kept waiting for Sam and Dean to roll up in the Impala and cut his head off.”

  “I can’t believe I missed this. So he came up to talk to you? What did he say? Did he ask you out? What’s his name?”

  “His name was Andrew, and yes, he asked me out, but he was way too intense for me.”

  Cynthia gasped. “Wait, you can’t mean Andrew De La Cote?”

  I don’t know what was more shocking: that Cynthia knew who I was talking about or that she shot a worried glance to Ethan. A glance he returned sharply.

  I tried not to panic, but this reaction was definitely not comforting after how much the guy had creeped me out the night before. “You know him?” I asked.

  “What did he say to you?” Cynthia demanded.

  I jumped, startled. “I—he said he was fascinated by me. That I was different than anyone he’d ever met.”

  “Different how?”

  Cynthia glanced to Ethan again, and I shot her a questioning look that she ignored. “Different how?” she barked again.

  “I don’t know.” I glanced back and forth between Cynthia and Ethan. Whatever point I was missing, they both got it. “We didn’t really get a chance to discuss it. He said he wanted to get to know me better and asked if we could go somewhere more private.”

  “Gracie, you didn’t!” Cynthia shouted.

  “Of course not!” I wanted to be offended, but Cynthia was too upset at the moment and it was freaking me out.

  “Are you sure?” Cynthia asked. “You didn’t go anywhere with him? Did you kiss him? Do you remember the whole night? Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “Cyn, what’s wrong? Of course I’m sure. I had to leave with my dad, remember? And besides, I wouldn’t just make out with a complete stranger.”

  Cynthia made a visible effort to calm down. “No, I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. It’s just—you were right about him being trouble. He has a really bad reputation.”

  “I can see why,” I said, shivering at the memory. “He was all over me at first, and when I freaked out he backed off and apologized for being so forward.”

  Cynthia froze, completely puzzled, and shared yet another meaningful look with Ethan, who seemed just as confused. He joined us at my desk again. “You refused Andrew De La Cote’s advances?” he asked in complete disbelief.

  And here I thought I couldn’t be any more humiliated in front of Ethan. “Of course I did. I’m not that kind of girl.” I wished it had come out as an angry shout and not an embarrassed whisper.

  “Grace, he didn’t mean it like that.”

  I couldn’t believe Cynthia was defending Ethan. It made me feel the need to explain myself again. “I was so creeped out that I made the mistake of telling my dad about him. It sent his goons into crisis mode. You were there,” I said, frowning at Ethan. “They practically put the whole hospital on lockdown. Now my dad’s forcing me to get my own security detail. They’re interviewing people all afternoon.”

  “Your dad’s hiring you a bodyguard?” Ethan asked.

  I slumped back into my chair. “You don’t have to sound quite so excited.”

  I never realized how many classes I had with Ethan until he helped me get my gimpy self from first period to second period and then from second to third. He was carrying all my books and still managed to catch me when I fell. But at least this time tripping wasn’t my fault, because some kid had kicked my crutch out from under me. I thought Ethan was going to murder him, and I’m pretty sure so did the guy.

  “It’s a good thing we have every class together,” he said after he made the boy who’d tripped me apologize and sent him on his way. “I don’t think you’d survive the day without help. How long do you have to be on crutches?”

  I ignored the dig and just said, “Six weeks.”

  “Is that why you’re so down today? Or are you upset about Andrew? What exactly happened with him, anyway?”

  It was the first time he’d brought up Andrew since my conversation with Cynthia—who I wished were here now to deflect Ethan’s attention. I would have rather told Ethan I was in love with him than talked with him about Andrew. Instead of answering his question, I asked, “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

  I’d meant to make him uncomfortable because of the way he was torturing me, but I didn’t know my question would piss him off so much. It took him a minute before he could respond. “Why? Obviously you’re not worried I’m in love with you.”

  Actually, I was leaning more toward an in-the-closet theory. “No. I was just curious because it doesn’t make sense for you to be single when you could probably have any girl in this school.”

  Ethan’s good mood was back for a split second as he glanced down the hallway at all the girls we were passing. Most of them were smiling at him and scowling at me. But then he looked at me again and his smile vanished. “Except you,” he said.

  “Except me what?”

  “You’re right. I could have any girl in this school. Any girl except you.”

  Astonished by the anger in his voice, I asked, “Am I supposed to feel bad about that? I’m sorry, Ethan. It’s not like I can help it. I just don’t like you like that.” Or at all, really. “I don’t understand why it bothers you. You don’t like me, either, so why should you care what I think?”

  Ethan stopped in the doorway of our third-hour class and whirled on me. “You are impossible!”

  He shoved my books at me so hard I dropped my crutches and stumbled backward. The person coming in the door behind me yelled, “Watch it, Disgrace!” and shoved me hard enough forward that I fell on my face. The entire class laughed and people stepped over me on the way to their seats, knocking me back down if I tried to stand up, until Cynthia showed up and helped me to my feet.

  I learned a long time ago that crying
only makes things worse, but as I plopped down in my seat and felt Ethan’s hateful glare from across the room, that was the closest I’d come to it in years. Cynthia tried to talk to me, but I just shooed her away to her own seat and thanked my lucky stars when the teacher walked in the room and turned out the lights. A nice, long, boring video would help me get control of myself before I had to deal with lunch and Cynthia’s questions.

  “I have a surprise for you today,” our teacher, Mrs. Wilson, said cheerfully. “Since I know you all missed it, I recorded last night’s presidential debate!”

  The entire class groaned collectively, and mine was the loudest groan of all.

  “Aw, come on, you guys. It’s not every year we get to go through a presidential election while taking government. And especially to be so lucky as to have the daughter of one of the candidates in class with us.”

  Suddenly everyone was looking at me. I sunk down in my chair and said, “Can’t I test out of this class or something?”

  Mrs. Wilson laughed. “I’m afraid not, Grace, but we would really appreciate any insight you have for us since we didn’t get to hear your speech yesterday.”

  The weight of everything that happened yesterday, plus Ethan’s glare burning a hole in my back, along with all of the laughter in the classroom finally got to be too much and I snapped. Instead of mumbling a short version of the speech I’d prepared for yesterday, I went back to work on my Count Andrew drawing and said, “Insight? Okay, how about this? My dad’s an asshole. Vote for the other guy.”

  Everyone in the room let out a gasp and then the laughter started again. Mrs. Wilson tried to quiet everyone down as she looked at me. “Grace,” she said with more concern in her voice than anger, “you know that kind of language isn’t permitted here.”

  I didn’t bother to look up from my cast. I didn’t want to see the looks on anyone’s faces. “Sorry, but I could only think of a handful of words to describe him, and I promise you all of the others were much worse.”

  The class was roaring now, and I finally looked up to meet Mrs. Wilson’s eyes. “Detention, right?” I asked her. “That’s a first. I hope it pisses him off.”