by Laura Tree
Chapter 2
“Hey Layla, what’s going on?” The voice on the other end of the phone belongs to my best friend in the whole wide world, Ava. She is the perfect model of a high school cheerleader. I picture her as one of the leading actresses in Bring It On. She is that kind of cheerful, not to mention the blond hair and blue eyes and the small figure.
“They blindsided me on my way in the door.” I spit it out like it was a piece of licorice.
“Your parents? What happened? I mean, I know that they’re strict, but you’re the straightest arrow that I know; you never get into trouble.” Her ranting makes me feel slightly better.
“They told me that I was adopted as a baby. They’re not my real parents at all.” I can picture her face through the phone. Her brows are drawn tight in confusion, the same confusion I wore when they told me.
“No way! You were adopted?” she says.
“Apparently,” I reply, not knowing what else to say.
“And they just now told you? That is so wrong! What did you tell them?” she asks.
“Nothing really, I just sat there staring at them. It was awkward. I didn’t really know what to say,” I reply, telling her the honest truth.
“Well, you can tell them how you feel,” she says.
“I would if I knew what that was. I just grew up thinking that they were my parents. I don’t really know who I am right now.” I plop my head on my pillow, feeling defeated.
“That’s silly. You are still my best friend. I bet I could tell you what you’re thinking,” Ava says. This is a game that we’ve played since we were kids. She is pretty darn good at it.
“Shoot,” I say, giving her permission with our code word.
“You’re mad. They didn’t tell you until you were getting ready to enjoy your last summer here. I bet you are stripping your nail polish off as we speak.”
“You called it. I just can’t believe they didn’t tell me. They knew my whole life and didn’t find it important enough to tell me, and you know what my mom said to me? She said they ‘chose me’!” My feelings are a wreck, and I’m rubbing the cotton ball across my nails so hard that my nail beds start aching.
“They should have told you a long time ago, but in their defense, your parents love you. You guys never fight. It’s unnatural.”
I can’t believe she’s on their side. There is a long moment of silence, while I pull the proverbial knife out of my back. I need her on my side on this.
“What are you going to do about it?” she asks.
“I don’t know. They wanted me to talk about it, but I didn’t know what to say. This changes my whole perspective on life. I kind of want to know who my birth parents are and ask them why they gave me up.” Did they not want me? Did they not love me? Are they still alive? “I’m kind of tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow? Also do you mind if we keep this between the two of us? I need some time to wrap my brain around it before the whole town knows about it. I’m not ready to answer questions yet.”
“Sure Layla. Night.”
“Night.” I hang up the phone and ready myself for bed.
...
“Hey girl, how are you feeling?” Ava comes dressed to impress for the last week of school. Graduation is this Friday, and all of our senior class is abuzz.
“I’m blown away. I still don’t know what to think.” It hurts to think about. Why did they wait to tell me? I deserve to know.
“Did you hear the news?” Mads—short for Madison—joins us with the latest gossip. “There’s a new guy. Today is his first day. Grace Harrison saw him registering a few minutes ago. He’s a senior and Grace said he was hot, hot, hot.” Mads is also part of the cheerleading squad. We’ve been friends since Ava became a cheerleader.
“A new guy enrolled the last week of school?” I’m thankful that Ava has something to occupy her mind besides my adoption, not to mention the fact that Mads obviously doesn’t know about the adoption yet. That means that Ava has kept her promise. “What’s his name?” I ask.
“His name is Damien something. I didn’t hear his last name. I just think it’s weird that he chose today to enroll; I mean, why bother?” Mads can be a bit opinionated and very persuasive; that’s why I’m not ready to tell her about my parents. Thankfully, the bell rings, ending the conversation.
“Maybe he got kicked out of his last school!” I catch a group of freshmen saying on my way in the door.
“I heard that he was here because he murdered someone.”
“I heard that his parents moved here to get him out of the big city.”
“I heard that he witnessed a murder and was in the witness protection program.” The theories are never--ending. This is a tough crowd.
...
“Is this seat taken?” The voice compels me to look up from my book. It’s the new guy. Grace was right; he is hot. He has cropped chestnut brown hair, with bright green eyes, a tall muscular build, and chiseled features with a prominent jawline that sends a chill down my spine. I feel like I recognize him.
It’s odd that he would want to sit by me in the front row when there are seats open in the back row where the popular kids sit. I nod and continue to read.
“Class, settle down now; I know that it’s the last week of school, but we have a new student. I would like to introduce Damien Cartwright. He moved here from . . .” Ms. Cunningham shuffles through her papers with little success.
After a moment she gives up. “Where did you move from?” The class is talking over Ms. Cunningham until she mentions the new student. The silence turns into giggles as she stumbles over her words. This is so typical of her.
She is a train wreck; it’s so bad that people stop and stare. Only one side of her shirt is tucked in her blue jean skirt. She never has matching socks; her hair looks like a blond bird’s nest, and her glasses are always crooked.
I don’t think that a single student in this school listens to, or respects her. Doesn’t she understand that she needs to dress for success?
“I moved here from the big city,” Damien provides after a quick chuckle. I wonder which big city? New York? Chicago? LA?
“Thank you, Damien,” Ms. Cunningham’s smile is a mess. Her teeth have food stuck between them. Gross. Clean your teeth, woman!
“Now for the last week, you need to turn in your textbook right here and get a book from the shelf to read for the remainder of the class period. We will be discussing our reading on Friday.” Sure, she gives us a task, but once everyone has finished turning in their books, they just start talking.
I’m sure that’s all they’ll do for the rest of the week. Besides, who actually does school work in the last week of school?
Reading has never been a problem for me. If I could read more at the library, I would. My parents have to practically pry a book out of my hands to have a conversation. It has been that way my whole life.
My favorite genre is fiction. When I read a book, it plays out like a movie in my head. It’s so full of possibilities; my imagination runs wild. Oftentimes I find it difficult to put a book down once I have started reading it.
“What’s your name?” His voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“I’m Layla Sanders, but it doesn’t really matter. I mean, it’s the last week of school, and most likely the last time we will see each other. I’m leaving for college in the fall.” I don’t mean to be pessimistic; it just happens.
I don’t know what it is about him that’s getting under my skin. He’s probably just trying to be friendly, but his confidence is so annoying.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Damien just brushes off my rudeness.
I can tell that he wants to ask another question, but I bury my face in my book. I have things I want to think about, mainly my parents, not the hot annoying hunk that just started school here and is sitting right beside me.
By third period I start to get suspicious. Damien has been in every single one of my classes so far.
“Can I please see your class schedule?” I ask politely. He hands it over with raised eyebrows.
You have got to be kidding me.
He is in every single one of my classes for the entire day! What luck? I mean, what are the chances of that? It’s already annoying that he has been nothing but polite to me and I’ve been a pure jerk to him.
Several times he has tried to start a conversation with me, and I’ve just ignored him or retorted with a smart comment. It’s frustrating that he can’t take a hint. Somehow he has been able to sit beside me in every class!
This must be a prank being played on me by the universe. I have the hottest guy in school in every one of my classes for the last week. At least I have something to distract me from the fact that I’m adopted and my parents just now told me.
I don’t see how it could have been that hard to sit me down when I was a kid and tell me. I would have grown up knowing it, instead of being lied to for all these years. Plus if I had known back then, I could have already met my birth parents, or at least looked for them.
Why did they give me up? Were they not in love? Did they like each other? Was it a one--night stand? Am I a product of rape? Are my parents still alive? These things could have influenced who I am. It could change my whole outlook on life.
But now it feels like I’ve missed out on an important part of my life. I feel like there’s a piece of me missing, and I can’t be whole again until I find it.
I just don’t know how to go about doing that. I have a party to go to tonight, and graduation is coming up. My last week of school is jam--packed with activities, so the soonest I can get started searching for my birth parents is this Sunday. Anxiety courses through my blood. What if my parents don’t want to be found?
“Are you all right? I can tell that the wheels are rolling in there.” Is that Damien’s best attempt at humor? I have to say, it’s pathetic. Ugh, why am I taking my anger out on him? I have been so entirely irritable lately. I know it has to do with all of the life changes that are happening to me; I just don’t know how to deal.
“I’m sorry; I’m just stressed out.” I had totally tuned out what he was saying, and now I realize I’m still holding his class schedule. I hand it back to him. “Sorry, I just wanted to check your classes, and it looks like we will be in every class together.”
A smile lights his face as a frown touches mine. “Well then I guess we should get to know each other.” I nod my head in response. What else is there to do today besides pretend to be reading while actually obsessing about my parents? “What are you stressed about?” Damien asks.
“Do you mean besides graduation, college, and my job at the local library with an evil supervisor? Well to top it all off, my parents just told me last night that I was adopted.” I glance around to make sure that no one has heard me, and thankfully all of the other students are just as engaged in their own conversation, though some are glancing at Damien.
I didn’t mean to let it slide out, but I couldn’t help it. Something about him makes me want to tell him everything about myself. I do need to talk about it and sort out my feelings before I talk to my adoptive parents. I really don’t want to go off on them and hurt their feelings. I am grateful for them taking me in and raising me like their own. But this is a perfect stranger; why am I so comfortable with him, like I’ve known him my entire life?
“How do you feel about it?” he asks, understanding shining through.
“I was angry when they told me. I can’t believe they waited until I’m graduating high school to tell me. They’ve known since I was born and hid it from me. I have a right to know. I may have missed out on years with my real parents.” It feels good to get some of it off my chest.
“Then I think about why my real parents gave me up, and it hurts. I just want to know why. I want to find them. I can’t really be angry at my adoptive parents anymore. My whole life, they took care of me. I am just so overwhelmed and confused. It sucks.” I let out a deep breath and purposely relax my shoulders. I let my lip fall out of the grasp of my teeth.
“Wow, you have a lot going on in your life. How are you going to deal with it all?” Damien lays his book down and turns toward me.
“I guess I need to talk to my adoptive parents and tell them how I feel. I hope that they support my search for my real parents. I just need to know why they gave me up.” We are now facing each other in our seats, holding a real conversation. He apparently hasn’t noticed all of the sly looks he’s getting or his name being said in conversation.
“So how did you come to end up here on the last week of school?” I ask him. I figure he’s right. It looks like I’m going to be seeing him a lot for the next week, and I’ve already spilled my guts to him, so I had better get to know him.
“That is a long story, one that I would rather tell you when there aren’t so many people straining to hear every breath I take.” So he has been paying attention. I glance around and catch several students hanging on to his every word, trying not to stare, and failing miserably.
“Smart move.” The corners of my mouth turn up. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all. I guess I can get past his tough guy confidence and play friendly. It’s only for a week.
...
“I heard that you’re the only person he’s talked to since school started.” Ava is getting her lunch tray ahead of me in line.
Mads is right behind me. “Is it true that he’s in all of your classes? Why did he enroll on the last week?”
“You’re going to have to ask him yourself.” I sit at the table that the three of us have been sharing all year. To my surprise, Damien walks over with his tray. I know he’s going to ask if the seat is taken since he has in every class so far. I just nod at him to sit down before he can speak.
“Oh my god! I’m Mads, and this is Ava. We’re Layla’s best friends.” She’s practically drooling over him, but I can’t blame her. Something about him just attracts girls.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He gives each girl a handsome smile that would make anyone melt.
“So where are you from?” Mads asks. Let the questions begin. I know how these two are when they are curious about something. Poor Damien is going to get the third degree from both of them.
“The city.” It’s the same vague answer that he has been giving all day.
“What city would that be?” Ava asks.
“So Ava did you actually have to do any work in class today?” I jump in. I know it’s a weak attempt, but I’m trying to save Damien from being bombarded with questions. He’s starting to grow on me.
“Why did you enroll today?” Mads asks.
“What are your parents like?” Ava asks at the same time, both ignoring me.
“Is it true that you’re part of the witness protection program?” Mads asks.
“I was adopted,” I call out. That does the trick. Mads’s face lights up like a light bulb with this little piece of information. Ava looks surprised that I just told Mads, who is notorious for having a big mouth.
“What do you mean you were adopted? When did you find out?” Now it’s my turn for the third degree. Both girls and Damien shift toward me, making me uncomfortable.
“Last night. My parents told me when I got home from work.” I try to keep it as short as possible. I know that Mads won’t be satisfied without hearing every detail, but I’m not in the mood. I’m still sulking myself, not quite ready to vent to them.
“That is messed up; they should have told you sooner.” Mads must have sensed my unease with the situation and has spared me for the moment.