Losing Grip

by Mercy Amare

  We only get to talk for five minutes though. So I guess I can leave the mixer for a few minutes while I talk to him. I just have to watch the clock closely. I’d hate myself if I missed an opportunity to talk to him.

  “I’ll be there,” I tell them.

  I’d really like to get to know people in this school. If I am going to survive here a whole year, I am going to need some friends.

  Just don’t get too attached, I remind myself.

  Because I will only be here for a year.

  At least, I hope.

  3 p.m.

  Make good choices.

  After lunch, I go back to my dorm and start unpacking. It only takes me a couple of hours to knock everything out of the way.

  My roommate still isn’t here. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or frightened.

  I hope she is nice.

  I pull out my computer and decide it’s time to write a blog post.

  I have a blog.

  Well, I call it a blog. But it’s more of an online journal.

  Nobody knows who I am. I just call myself Grace—Grace is my middle name. I never post my first or last name on there, and nobody I know in real life knows about my blog. I don’t have many followers. It’s mostly just a place for me to escape and write what I’m feeling. It helps me cope.

  I am officially at boarding school.

  Well, school doesn’t start until Monday, but I’m in my dorm now.

  I keep thinking—maybe I should feel thankful that I’m here. At least I’m not stuck at home with the cook, maid, and all other staff members that definitely AREN’T my family. Because then I would remember that my family SUCKS. I would remember that my brother isn’t there. I would remember that my house has zero pictures of my little sister hanging up.

  My mom is still in France. She left a couple of weeks ago. She told me she would “be back in time to say goodbye”. I still haven’t heard from her.

  Oh, but my dad did say goodbye. Sort of. He came by my room last night. His exact words were... “Don’t be late tomorrow. You have to check in by nine. Don’t worry, boarding school will be a fun adventure. You’ll see.” Then he left. He didn’t even tell me that he loves me—not that I expected him to. He hasn’t said that to me since I was five. Not since... well, you know.

  I will keep everybody posted on my crazy boarding school adventures.

  I just hope this year goes fast.

  I post my blog, and then shut my laptop.

  I look at my phone and see that I have a few messages.

  One is a text from my mother.

  Mother: Sorry I wasn’t there to say goodbye. I hope you have fun at school. Make good choices.

  I have her name as “mother” in my phone, because that seems more appropriate. She’s never acted like a “mom”.

  I decide not to reply to her.

  Drew Watson: Let’s hang out.

  Drew? How the heck did he get my number? And how did I get his number?

  Me: WTH? How do you have my number?

  Drew Watson: At lunch. Don’t be mad. Please say you’ll hang out with me.

  Me: Touch my phone again and die. And no, I won’t hang out with you.

  Drew Watson: Come on, Jinger! Pleeeeease :( I’ll introduce you to some cool people.

  Me: No.

  Drew Watson: I’ll bring Sebastian. He will make sure I don’t say or do something stupid.

  I think about what he’s saying.

  Drew does say a lot of stupid things. Sebastian is a great buffer. I wonder how he’d be if Sebastian wasn’t there.

  But, really, what would I do if I said no? Sit in my room. Spend a few hours on social media.

  Yeah, I should really go.

  I’m bored.

  Why not hang out?

  Plus, I’d love to meet more people at my school.

  I still haven’t met any girls... I hope the girls are nice.

  Me: Fine. Meet me in front of my dorm.

  I walk out of my dorm room and see Sebastian and Drew waiting for me out front. I walk up to Drew and punch him in the shoulder.

  “Ow!” He grabs his shoulder. “What was that for?”

  “Touching my phone,” I say.

  “All I did was put my number in there and text myself your number. I promise I didn’t look at anything,” he says, holding up both of his hands in surrender.

  “Do you want my number too?” Sebastian asks. “I know you just got here, but I have a feeling that we are going to be friends.”

  Drew laughs. “Once everybody learns that her last name is Rivera, I’m pretty sure she will ditch us for some cooler people.”

  “Hand me your phone,” I tell Sebastian, ignoring what Drew said.

  He passes it over and I type in my name and number for him and then text myself. I give his phone back and then add his number to my contacts.

  “Done,” I say. “And I don’t want people to like me because of my name. I never hang out with those types of people. And if you are one of those types of people, you should just delete me from your contacts.”

  I hate being used.

  Unfortunately for me, it’s the story of my life.

  “I’m not,” Drew says. “Really.”

  “Okay,” I say. “So, where are we going to hang out with people?”

  “By the lake,” Sebastian answers. “We all hang out by the docks. Some people might be drinking, but there isn’t pressure if you don’t want to. I won’t be.”

  My chest hurts and I have problems taking a deep breath. I force myself to breathe through it.

  “Are you okay?” Drew asks. “You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m fine,” I lie. “I just... remembered... I have something else to do.”

  I start to walk into the room, but Sebastian grabs my arm gently.

  “Go on without us, Drew,” he tells him, not taking his eyes off me.

  Drew shrugs, but walks off. “Whatever.”

  As soon as he is out of ear shot, Sebastian lets go of my arm.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “Don’t just nod. I need verbal responses, okay?”

  I start to nod, but stop. “I’m fine.”

  He studies my eyes. “You’re lying.”

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “Right before you lie, you blink twice,” he says.

  “And you know that from the few conversations we’ve had today?”

  “I’m observant.”

  “Right.”

  “Why don’t you want to go to the lake?” he asks.

  “I don’t like water.”

  “You don’t know how to swim?”

  “No, I do. I’m a very good swimmer,” I answer automatically. “I just don’t like to be near the water.”

  “Why not? Did you almost drown or something?”

  I shake my head, then I remember. Verbal responses. “No. I didn’t. I just... don’t like it. That’s all. Do I have to have a reason?”

  “How long have you been scared of water?” he asks.

  “Since I was five,” I answer. But I know I said the wrong thing. I should have said all my life. I don’t want him to know what happened. Though, I guess he could easily just Google my family and find out. It’s not like it was a secret or anything. It was all over the news.

  “What happened?”

  I sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just go hang out with your friends. I’d rather be alone anyway.”

  “I’d rather hang out with you,” he says.

  “Sebastian, go hang out with your friends. I will see you tonight.”

  He looks at me. I can see the uncertainty in his eyes.

  But I don’t want him to hang out with me because he feels sorry for me.

  I don’t want anybody to feel sorry for me.

  “I’ll see you later, Sebastian.”

  “Okay,” he says. “I’ll be waiting for you outside your dorm at 5:45. I will walk you to the mixer.”
<
br />   I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t bring Drew.”

  With that, he turns and walks away.

  I turn around and go back to my dorm room.

  5 p.m.

  A never ending cycle.

  After Sebastian leaves, I sort of regret telling him to go. Mostly because I am bored. I play around on my blog a little. I make a new banner—it’s black, white, and pink. I like it. It’s definitely more... me than my old one.

  I also look at the clock every five minutes.

  At five thirty, I get up, run my fingers through my hair, brush my teeth, and then head down. I figure waiting outside will be more fun than waiting in my dorm room. But I don’t have to wait. Sebastian is leaning up against the outside of the building. He smiles when he sees me.

  “Hey, Jinger,” he says.

  “Hey.”

  “You look nice.”

  I’d changed out of my sundress from earlier.

  I’d put on a pair of hot pink skinny jeans, a black tank, and black Converse. I felt exposed wearing my dress.

  I don’t like it when people can see my legs. Even with leggings on, I feel exposed, like maybe people can see what’s underneath, which is silly, I know. But I don’t want anybody to ever see my legs… to know what I did. Because then they would know how messed up I really am, and that scares me.

  I won’t let anybody in.

  Ever.

  “Thanks,” I say, putting my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

  Together, we walk beside each other. Neither of us says anything, but it’s not awkward.

  I have to admit, it’s kind of nice that Drew isn’t here. He talks a lot. And he makes conversations awkward at times.

  “Are you nervous?” Sebastian asks, breaking the silence.

  I shake my head.

  “You really like giving non-verbal responses.”

  “Sorry,” I say simply, because I don’t know what else to say. I don’t like talking.

  “Tell me about you, Jinger. What do you like to do for fun?” Sebastian asks.

  “Um... I like to listen to classical music,” I answer. “Um, I also write... there really isn’t anything else to know.”

  “I like classical music,” he says. “What do you write?”

  I shrug. “It’s just a coping thing my therapist taught me. I just write about how crappy my life is. Surprisingly, it helps.”

  And I don’t know why I just told him that I have a crappy life. Not like he couldn’t have figured it out, though. I mean, person who is observant can look at me and see that I’m absolutely miserable. Most people just tend to ignore it.

  He doesn’t say anything about my comment. “So, is pink your favorite color?”

  I nod. “How’d you guess?”

  “Well, every time I’ve seen you, you’ve always been wearing pink,” he says.

  He’s really observant.

  “Pink is a happy color,” I say. And maybe if I pretend to be happy, people will believe it.

  “Do you like to read?” he asks.

  “Some.”

  “What is your favorite book?”

  “The Giver,” I answer easily.

  “Favorite TV show?”

  “Game of Thrones.”

  “Favorite movie?” he asks.

  “Project X,” I answer.

  Though, that’s not really true. I don’t have a favorite movie. Project X is my brother’s favorite movie, so I just stole it. I watch it all the time because it reminds me of him. I don’t really have a favorite movie.

  “Favorite food?”

  “French fries. And bananas, but not together,” I answer. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

  “Just trying to get to know you,” he says. “You’re... not like everybody else here.”

  “I guess I’m more screwed up.” I look at my feet as we walk. I always look at my feet. I like to avoid making eye contact with people.

  “You’re not screwed up.”

  I look up at Sebastian. He’s watching me as we walk.

  “You have no idea how screwed up I am,” I say quietly.

  He changes the subject. “What are you scared of? Besides water.”

  “Bugs, spiders, anything that crawls, or flies, really. I’m also scared of death. And I’m scared of public speaking. So, word to the wise, if I ever have to give a speech, I recommend sitting as far away from the front as you can.”

  “I will remember that,” he says.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “Fear? I’m scared of heights, but that’s about it.”

  “How bad are we talking?”

  “I mean, like, I passed out when my family went to the Grand Canyon,” he says. “We ended up having to fly to Hawaii because I literally couldn’t stay there.”

  “Wow,” I say. “So, do you ride roller coasters?”

  “I do. But I take anxiety pills beforehand. I love the speed, just hate the heights,” he says, then stops. “We’re here.”

  I take a deep breath and try not to panic at the thought of being around all these people. It’s not that I don’t like being around people, that’s not it. I just don’t like meeting new people. I always think people are going to judge me, use me, or hate me. And most people do. It’s just part of being Preston Rivera’s daughter. I guess the fact that he’s the third richest person in the world freaks people out. But what they don’t realize is I’m not my dad. It’s not my money. He doesn’t have to give me anything. He does though. He gives me anything and everything I want. I got my first credit card when I was eight years old. There was no limit on it. What kind of person gives an eight year old a credit card? Right, the kind who doesn’t want to have to deal with their kid. He thinks if he buys me the world, he can ignore me. What he doesn’t get is I’d rather have him.

  As we walk through the door, people turn to look.

  “They’re just curious,” Sebastian says. “Remember, we don’t get a lot of new students who aren’t freshman.”

  “So they probably think I’m a pyromaniac like Drew?”

  He laughs. “Maybe.”

  “That’s better than them knowing who I really am.”

  A blonde girl walks towards us. She is tall, skinny and has a fake smile plastered on her face.

  “Hey, Sebastian,” she says to him when she gets over to us. She ignores me.

  “Hey, Nicole,” he says back, then nods over to me. “This is Jinger. She’s new.”

  Finally, Nicole looks at me. Her eyes glance down and I can tell she’s sizing me up.

  “Nicole Wright,” she says, not in a nice tone.

  “Nice to meet you.” I’m pretty sure I blinked twice before I said that, because it’s a lie. It’s definitely not nice to meet her, but I probably shouldn’t be honest right now.

  The girl rolls her eyes. “So, you’re here on scholarship?”

  I hear somebody laughing behind me. I look over to see Drew. He puts his arm around my shoulder.

  “She’s definitely not here on scholarship. God, Nicole, you’re so dumb,” he says. His voice is slurred and I’m wondering if he’s drunk. I’m also hoping that he doesn’t tell her who I am. I don’t want her to know. I want to get to know these people before they start sucking up.

  I shake his arm off me.

  “Then who are you?” she asks.

  Drew opens his mouth to say something, so I elbow him in the ribs.

  “Nobody important,” I answer.

  “Obviously.” She turns to Sebastian and smiles big, revealing her perfect white teeth. “Sebastian, I thought we could catch up. We didn’t talk all summer.”

  Her voice is kind of whiney.

  “Maybe later,” he tells her. “I kind of want to introduce Jinger to some people.”

  She pouts. “Come on. Drew can show her around.”

  “Sorry, Nicole,” is his only response. He grabs my arm gently and pulls me away from her. Nicole’s mou
th is open wide as we walk away.

  “What’s her deal?” I ask.

  “She’s spoiled,” he answers. “And rude. I’m sorry about her.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for something you didn’t do.”

  He smiles. “You know, Jinger, you’re kind of cool. Most people here love to name drop. And with your dad being who he is... well, you could’ve easily put her in her place.”

  “If Drew hadn’t come up, I would’ve just let her think I was a scholarship kid. I’d prefer that, actually,” I admit. “I’d like to know who my real friends are before everybody knows. In fact, I wish that you and Drew didn’t know.”

  “Drew is a good friend,” Sebastian says. “You just have to get used to him.”

  Get used to Drew?

  “Come on. I’ll introduce you to some of my other friends.”

  I follow him to two girls who are talking.

  The first girl he introduces is Karlie Reed. She’s a very pretty girl. She’s a little shorter than I am, thin, and she has these awesome gray-blue eyes. I’ve always wanted to have blue eyes, so I’m jealous.

  The second girl he introduces is Molly Parker. Molly is very tall—she towers over me by at least four inches. She has blue eyes as well, but they’re a lighter shade. She also has a really light shade of blonde hair.

  I feel kind of ordinary here. A lot of people are really pretty. And I don’t think I’m ugly, but I also don’t think I’m attractive or anything. Everything about me is average.

  I am an average height—5’5”. My hair is ordinarily dark brown. My eyes are hazel. I’m slightly underweight. The only thing that I really like about me is my eyelashes. They’re really dark and really long. I hardly ever wear mascara, and I don’t have to.

  “You look so familiar to me,” Karlie says. Her caramel colored curls bounce as she moves. “Do I know you from somewhere?”