Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless

by Melody Carlson

  MelodW Eanlson

  OTHER NOVELS BY MELODY CARLSON

  TRUECOLORS Series

  Bitter Rose

  Blade Silver

  Bright Purple

  Burnt Orange

  Dark Blue

  Deep Green

  Faded Denim

  Fool's Gold

  Harsh Pink

  Moon White

  Pitch Black

  Torch Red

  allowed myself to believe there was such a thing as do-overs a few months ago. I should've known better, but it was a hot July afternoon and my head was throbbing after a torturous day of selling hot dogs from a greasy, smelly food kiosk owned by a "friend" of my mom's.

  Vernon (aka "Vermin") Smithers had worked a deal with someone in the city, allowing him to park his Hot Diggity Dog House right in front of the town's only public swimming pool, which meant I worked like a dog, sweated like a pig, and never got a break or a tip. I was subjected to this inhumane treatment for the miserly reward of minimum wage. To top it all off, at the end of my shift, feeling and smelling like an overcooked hot dog myself, I had to ride my bike home.

  Consequently, on that day when my mom announced that life as I knew it was about to change, I barely even questioned her. "I'm taking a job in Stanfield," she blurted out as soon as I opened the front door.

  "Stanfield ..." I went for the fridge, scavenging to find a cold soda. "Isn't that like a couple hundred miles from here?"

  "I already gave notice on our house," she said in an excited voice. "We have to be out of here by the end of the month. My job starts the first week of August."

  "Seriously?" I wiped the cold can across my throbbing forehead and attempted to think rationally. Heat stroke or not, this was my life we were talking about. Well, my mom's and mine. Still, I wasn't sure how to react. I mean, as much as I loved my mom, she'd never been the most reliable, predictable, or dependable person on the planet. Plus, she's bipolar, and judging by the gleam in her bright blue eyes, she was definitely experiencing a high that day.

  "I know exactly what you're thinking, Adele." Her brow creased as she pressed her lips tightly together. "But this time you re wrong.

  I decided to play innocent as I sat on the futon that also served as my bed. "I'm not thinking anything, Mom. I'm just surprised about this new development. Tell me what's going on."

  Her smile returned. "Well, it's a huge opportunity for me-for both of us. In fact, you'll get to graduate from a school that's rated really high in the state." Then she rattled on, telling me more pluses and perks about Stanfield as well as the old college friend who offered the job to her. "I have no doubt that this move is exactly what we both need, Adele."

  It was clear she'd done some research too. And although I felt a twinge of doubt because ... well, I know my mom ... and I know she exaggerates sometimes ... and I know she has her "issues." Despite all that, I was getting onboard with this idea.

  No doubt, I was weak and vulnerable, but the possibility of quitting my nasty summer job enticed me. And I had no problem with switching schools either. My junior year had been a huge disappointment. And as for close friends, I didn't have any. As pathetic as it sounded, there was no one I'd regret leaving behind.

  My mom was flying high as she went on and on about how great this would be. "This is the fresh start we both desperately need. We'll both enjoy a new and improved life."

  And the more I listened to her, the more I bought into the whole thing. In fact, I didn't protest a bit. I was in. And really, it was about time our luck changed. According to my mom, her ship had finally come in and we were both getting on it and sailing away.

  So I gave Vernon notice on my job, and two weeks later, I was packing boxes. I even scrubbed and scoured our tiny apartment in hopes of getting our deposit back (which never happened). But as I worked, I imagined my mom and me in our new life. Everything would be all fresh and squeaky clean there - kind of like a Febreze commercial where everything came out smelling sweet.

  "Get rid of anything you don't like," Mom told me as I was packing up my room. "As soon as we get to Stanfield, we'll go on a major shopping spree and get all new stuff. And then before I start my new job, we'll both get makeovers and new wardrobes and some cool furnishings for the condo. Everything new!"

  "We can afford this, right?" I ventured once more-kind of like a reality check. I mean, really, sometimes it all just seemed too good to be true.

  "I already explained everything to you, Adele." Her voice took on the sharp edge of impatience. "Mark Edmonds gave me that advance on my salary to help us relocate. He set up the condo for us. We're covered. Don't be such a worrywart. Sometimes you're like an old woman!"

  I nodded and returned to packing. I had actually seen the check her new boss sent-and the amount was impressive. I also went with my mom as she deposited it in the bank. And I was even more impressed when I later discovered the check had cleared at the bank. Thanks to my mom's "challenges," I know all about online banking, how to pay bills, and how to tuck away a bit of money for a rainy day. My life's been filled with a lot of those.

  So knowing that the money was in the bank and my mom's job was for real, I felt seriously hopeful. And why not? My mom had a good education; she was intelligent and capable of holding down a good job. Not that it had happened for the past several years. But that could change. My mom's problems had gotten worse after my deadbeat dad walked out. But that was more than six years ago. She was probably over it.

  My mom's job skills were "valuable"-and I'd heard many times about how she could easily bring home a six-figure salary when the economy turned around. A couple of times she did get hired, but then something would happen ... and it would unravel. But there was unemployment . . . and other things. However, I wasn't going there. This time life would be different. And it was different ... at first anyway.

  "This place looks fabulous," I told my mom as she pulled into Westwood Heights, a pleasantly arranged complex of threestory buildings nestled into some attractive landscaping, including lots of tall oak trees. Before long we were hauling boxes into our second-floor unit, which was even better than the exterior. With an open floor plan, high ceilings, a gas fireplace, and a stylish kitchen complete with granite and stainless steel, it was a huge improvement over our previous digs. But the best part was the two master suites. Not only did I have a real bedroom now, but I actually had my own bathroom as well!

  Then, true to her word, Mom took us shopping the next week. I felt like a princess as I splurged at stores like Banana Republic and Gap, buying the kinds of clothes I used to just dream about.

  It was late July, and I couldn't wait for the first day of school to come. I could imagine myself walking in with my head held high-pretending I was someone else. And from now on I would use my full name. No more being called "Addie." I was Adele Porter and my senior year was going to rock! It would be totally unlike my previous year, where I went around like a meek little mouse, hoping no one would notice my thrift-store jeans and worn-out shoes. This would be my year to shine. I would join clubs and start planning for college. And I might even make some real friends.

  At least that's what I tell myself as I ride the transit to Stanfield High on registration day the week before school starts. And whether it's the power of positive thinking or just plain luck, it seems to be working.

  "Hey, you're new." A blonde girl steps behind me in the line for twelfth grade. She's wearing a pale denim skirt topped with a pink T-shirt. She's pretty but not flashy, more of a wholesome kind of pretty. And she has a nice smile.

  "Yeah. We just moved here last month." I suppress the urge to nervously smooth the front of my shirt. After trying several o
utfits, I decided on this fitted white button-up I'd gotten at Express. "Understated but classic," the salesgirl assured me. I'd paired this with what were supposedly "the coolest jeans this side of the Mississippi," some killer Nine West sandals, and a knockoff Prada bag my mom thought was convincing. To say I felt like a million bucks as I walked from the bus stop to the school would not have been an understatement. But for some reason, standing in front of this girl who looks very comfortable in her own skin, I feel totally out of my league and a bit like a counterfeit. Like I'm as genuine as my fake Prada purse.

  "Cool bag." She lowers her voice in a confidential tone. "Prada, right? Is it the real deal?"

  I'm not sure how to respond but decide to go with honesty since it's usually the safest route. "Are you kidding?" I force what I hope looks like a confident smile. "Why waste good money on something that'll be out of style by Christmas?"

  She laughs loudly. "Exactamundo!"

  I almost comment on her odd choice of expressions, but stop myself and simply nod. No sense in alienating anyone-especially when I'm still the new girl here.

  She sticks out her hand. "I'm Isabella Marx, senior class president."

  I cock my head to one side. "You mean you've already had student body elections?"

  She shrugs in a slightly sheepish way. "Okay, that's just an assumption on my part. But I was freshman, sophomore, and junior class president ... so I suppose it seems likely I'll win it again.

  "Wow, that's impressive."

  "And one responsibility of being class president is welcoming new students. So consider yourself officially welcomed. Uh, what did you say your name was?"

  "I didn't." I smile. "I'm Adele Porter."

  "Welcome to Stanfield High, Adele Porter." And then to my surprise, Isabella kind of takes me under her wing. First she introduces me to a couple of the faculty helping with registration, then she helps me get a good schedule of classes, and finally, she even gives me a quick tour of the campus. "This way you won't have first-day-of-school nightmares about not being able to find your locker." She chuckles.

  I blink. "Do you have those too?"

  "Not since before my freshman year."

  It seems the tour is done now. So I thank Isabella for her time and am ready to make what I hope will be a graceful exit and head back to the bus stop, but she stops me.

  "You need to come meet some people." She leads me over to where a small group of kids are drinking sodas in a shady area of the courtyard, and just like that, she introduces me to her friends. I feel almost like I'm dreaming as these kids chat openly and naturally with me, like it's no big deal or they've known me for years. It's pretty surreal.

  "Adele is into journalism," Isabella informs a petite redhead named Lily Bishop.

  "Me too." Lily tells me what classes she has, and I pull out my schedule to discover we both have journalism the same period.

  Then a tall guy named Ethan Daniels looks over my shoulder. "Hey, you're in calculus with me."

  "And if you need any help, Ethan's your man," Isabella says. Then she introduces me to a guy I swear looks just like Jude Law. "This is Jayden Hammaker."

  Jayden points to the schedule still in my hand. "It looks like we have resource together."

  "What is that anyway?" I ask.

  "Your free period," Isabella says.

  "You have to check in," Jayden informs me, "but then you can go to the library or whatever."

  "Right." I nod like none of this is the slightest bit overwhelming to me ... like this is totally normal ... like I am used to fitting in. But am I in shock? Maybe some kind of culture shock? I remember reading about this once. But something about being received like this, feeling genuinely welcomed by kids I've never even met before ... well, it's all pretty weird. But also cool. And I like it.

  As I ride the transit home, I feel strangely hopeful. Like all the things I've been imagining for the upcoming year are really going to come true . . . like this is going to be a lifechanging year, after all. And so far, my mom seems happy with her new life, too. It's only been a little more than three weeks, and although some of her earlier enthusiasm has worn off, she's still talking positively about her job. So, really, why should I be worried?

  chool starts the day after Labor Day, and within that first week, I figure out two very significant things about Isabella and her friends. First of all, although they aren't in the snootiest clique at SHS, which is a relief, they are still relatively high up in the high school feeding chain. As a result, they are somewhat exclusive-a tad bit snobby even. I get the impression they come from fairly well-off families - kind of the who's who of Stanfield. Although they play it down.

  The second thing I discover is that Isabella and her friends are quite academic ... a bit more intellectual, or so they assume, than the rest of the student body. And talk of college scholarships and SAT scores isn't uncommon at their lunchroom table. Yes, they have their own table. No one seems to dispute this either. Anyway, although they are academic, it's not like they talk incessantly about education, which would be lame. But they're not afraid to discuss whatever comes up ... from politics to books to maintaining a GPA and precollege courses.

  Oddly enough, I'm able to hold my own with them. Thanks to my mom's new job (at what seems to be a prestigious marketing firm-and it helps that Lily's dad works there too) and my own scholastic background, which is relatively strong, I can almost appear to be one of them. Sure, I still feel a bit like an imposter, but I can get past this. And by the second week of school, I actually feel like I am becoming one of them. And it feels awesome.

  "I'm pretty sure I'm going to get an early acceptance from Yale," Bristol Allen announces to the group on Friday. Bristol and Isabella have been on and off best friends since grade school. Lily confided this much to me in journalism the other day, letting it slip that there'd been a love triangle last spring. Jayden Hammaker had been in the center with both Isabella and Bristol fighting for his affection. "Not that it worked," Lily told me. "Jayden was so not interested." Anyway, it seems that Bristol and Isabella have moved on since they're relatively civilized to each other. Plus, I'm guessing that Isabella has her eye on Ethan now, and I'm guessing that Ethan feels the same.

  Jayden is peering at Bristol with a skeptical expression now. "You honestly think you'll get an early acceptance from Yale?"

  She nods a bit smugly. "I expect to hear something from them before Christmas."

  "Don't hold your breath, Bristol." Isabella smirks as she sticks a straw in her soda. "Yale's a long shot, for you anyway."

  Bristol's dark eyes flash. "How would you even know? It's not like you're applying to any Ivy League schools."

  "'hat's because I'm going to my parents' alma mater." Isabella makes a face at Bristol. "Which some people happen to think is preferable to any of the Ivy League schools."

  "And most Ivy League schools don't do early acceptance," Jayden informs her.

  Bristol holds her head high. "FYI ... one of my dad's best friends happens to be on the Yale admissions board."

  Jayden just shakes his head. "Trust me, Bristol, it'll take more than a buddy on the board to get an early acceptance from Yale. That is, unless you're someone they really want. Some hot commodity they don't want to miss out on." His eyes twinkle like he knows this isn't the situation.

  "Or maybe you have some hidden talents we don't know about," Lily teases.

  Bristol scowls and looks like she's about to argue this when Ethan changes the subject. "So, who's going to the big game tonight? It's supposed to be a good one." The response from the table is less than enthusiastic, and I can tell Ethan's disappointed. Even so, I don't say anything to encourage him. The truth is, I like sports, but I'm guessing this clique's not into the whole jock thing-and I'm not comfortable enough to rock the boat.

  Isabella looks at Ethan. "Well, I'd like to go to the game."

  "Cool." He nods eagerly. "How about I give you a ride?"

  And just like that, it all turns around
. Everyone starts acting like they want to go too. Suddenly they're planning rides, Lily offers to get there early to save seats, and some of them are arguing on where to eat afterward. I can't help but be impressed at Isabella's influence with this crowd, yet she seems to simply take it in stride. To my relief, she's including me in these plans too. "Who are you riding with?"

  Before I can object, Ethan decides that I must ride with Isabella and him. I have a feeling it's because Bristol was trying to squeeze herself in. Maybe there's still a rift between those two girls. Now as much as I appreciate being included, I'm a little concerned that Ethan's the one offering the ride. I do not want Isabella to perceive this as me trying to push into whatever may or may not be going on between Ethan and her. No way do I want to blow my friendship with her -especially after only two weeks as the "new girl."

  "How about if I hitch a ride with you, too?" Jayden suggests to Ethan. "That way we'll save on gas."

  Ethan agrees, and as quickly as they came, my fears fade away. Not only am I being included in this group, but I'm going on what almost seems like a double date! Okay, it's not like I'm delusional; I know Jayden hasn't asked me out proper, but I must admit it feels extremely cool to imagine it that way. I've never been on a real date. Last year I thought a guy was going to ask me out. But a girl who I had supposed was my friend told him my mom was crazy, and that kind of squelched the date-not to mention the rest of my junior year. But that's an old story.

  Anyway, I am still riding high when I get home from school on Friday. So high that I don't really stop to wonder why my mom came home from work early. My focus is on putting together the coolest outfit I can for the football game. Something that will encourage Jayden to give me a second look. Or so I hope.

  It's not until Isabella calls me on my cell phone, announcing that Ethan has just turned into my condo complex and that I'm supposed to meet them down there, that I notice my mom's grim expression. She's seated on the couch with her arms folded tightly across her chest like something is really bugging her.