“Ow! Let go, you psycho,” I gritted out at him as my ankle bumped painfully over a rock. “You’re damaging the goods.”
Theo refused to speak to me until he’d shoved me into my room with seconds to spare before bed check. Since juniors and seniors were allowed to stay at the dance until midnight, bed check had been extended from our regular 11pm curfew to 1am.
He pushed me backward onto my bed, with its very excellent thread count. Felicia didn’t stint on the linens.
Hannah was staring wide-eyed at the two of us. “Mommy, daddy, please don’t fight.”
“Stay,” he ordered me.
“I’m not a dog,” I shot back at him.
“Too bad for me,” he muttered and stalked out.
I glanced at Hannah. “Did I miss something at the dance? Who peed in his cornflakes?”
“No idea. One minute we’re doing rock paper scissors to see who’ll go get you for bed check and hopefully ruin any fun you’re having for being a total monkey butt and ditching us, and the next he storms out. What did you do to him?”
“Nothing.”
“You must have done something.” She looked at me eagerly. “Let’s back up and go into great detail. Did you meet Mr. Stud?”
“Yes.” I pulled my pjs out from under my pillow and slipped into them.
“And?”
“I am no longer a crush virgin.” I crawled under my comfy blue comforter and lay back against the matching sheets.
“You didn’t!” Hannah practically bolted up.
Our guidance counselor Mrs. Rivers poked her head in. “Girls, I know it’s been a very exciting night but at least pretend to sleep.”
We smiled at her. She was one of our cooler staff. “Sure thing, Mrs. R,” I replied.
“Good-night,” she said, and shut our door.
The door had barely closed before a heavy Hannah-shaped weight jumped on me. “You total skank. You slept with a stranger.”
“Yeah,” I shot back. “There I was, out back with some guy I’d just met and I thought ‘why not just give it up?’ At worst, it’ll be bad, fast vanilla sex with only a slight reminder of the night in nine months time. At best it’ll be astoundingly slutty.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Which was it?” she asked, sweetly.
“Neither. It didn’t happen. I said I lost my crush virginity. Emphasis on the crush.” I shoved her off me.
She leapt back to her bed and burrowed under her own purple covers. “Did you do anything noteworthy?”
“Kissed.” I tried to sound like it was no big deal.
“Reeaaaalllly? Scale of one to ten.”
I opened my mouth to say “eleven” and then I remembered all those stupid flashes. Did I have some kind of mental illness? If I subtracted about minus forty for the disturbia factor that left … “It was okay.”
Hannah looked at me sharply. “Did something happen? Did he do something to you?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Yes, he gave me the world’s greatest kiss then triggered an aneurysm,” didn’t seem appropriate. “Nothing. I think I’m just worn out from all my debauched activity today.”
“You’ll have to build up your stamina if you’re going for that life of crime,” Hannah replied. Seconds later, I could hear her deep breathing. Dead to the world.
I wish I could have said the same for me. It was a very long, fear-filled night. Worrying that my brain might explode was actually the least of it. What did those images mean? What was my connection to Kai? There was no way that had been a random meeting. I knew him. On some level. And he knew me too.
Scariest of all was what if I’d just reached my lip lock pinnacle at the tender age of sixteen?
Morning didn’t make things any better.
I must have fallen asleep at some point after dawn. I remember light streaking the sky as I stared at my clock, waiting for it to be late enough to call Felicia and ask for a complete run-down on my medical history. Then suddenly, I was bolting upright with a cry of “Bethany!” I dropped my head in my hands. “Brilliant.” I’d forgotten all about her.
Hannah applied a light coat of gloss to her lips and rubbed them together before speaking. “You forgot to let her out?”
I squirmed under her gaze. “Maybe.”
There was a light knock on the door and Cassie popped her head in. “Are you okay?” she asked anxiously.
Impending brain tumor aside? “Fine. And you?” Poor girl really seemed upset.
“I had a rough night,” she muttered, tugging anxiously on the fringes at the bottom of her oversize knit sweater.
Hannah patted her on the shoulder as she headed out with her toothbrush, bathroom bound.
I rooted around in my drawers for what to wear. “You and me both.”
Oddly, Cassie perked up at that. “Really? Like, life changing?”
I thought about the images and the entire Kai encounter. “You could say that.”
“But you’re cool with it?”
If I focused only on the amazing kiss part. “I’d say so.”
Cassie enveloped me in a huge hug. “I’m so glad.”
I disentangled myself gently. “Me too.” Okay, freaky child. Time for you to go.
Cassie threw one more beaming smile at me. “Oh yeah. Principal Doucette sent me to get you.”
“No worries, Cass. I won’t shoot the messenger.”
She grinned at me. “Phew. Wouldn’t want you getting all viney on me.” She waved her hands around.
I tossed my favorite, super soft red sweater on my bed. “Sorry?”
“You know,” she prompted. “The whole Persephone thing.”
Who? I must have been staring at her like she was totally nuts because her forehead creased in confusion. “You don’t know anything about this?”
“Uh, maybe? Did we study her in English?”
Cassie looked like she might throw up. She grabbed my shoulders and shook me, hard. “You said ‘life changing.’ You said you were cool with it.” She sounded totally panicked.
My surprise at her behavior completely overrode my annoyance at being shaken like a dog with a chew toy. “Cassie, calm down. What happened to you last night?” I put my hand on her arm but she jumped back like she’d been scalded.
“No! Don’t touch me!” She bolted from the room, brushing roughly past Hannah.
“What’s wrong?” Hannah asked with concern.
“I don’t get what just happened. She told me Doucette wanted to see me then freaked out.”
“I’ll go to her room and check on her,” Hannah offered. “You get your butt to the office.”
“Here’s the thing with Bethany,” I started to explain.
Hannah clamped her hands over her ears. “Uh-uh. The less I know, the less they can torture out of me later.”
“Hilarious.”
Believe me when I say I was so not in the mood to deal with any of this. All I could think about was talking to Felicia to see if there was a family history of Schizophrenia or brain tumors. I had narrowed down my condition to one of the two, just to keep it manageable.
I threw on my favorite outfit, needing fortification through fashion. Black leggings with a fitted short black skirt, topped with the sweater I’d dug out. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and was good to go.
I was on the verge of walking into the principal’s office, declaring my guilt, and getting it all over with if it would get me to a phone faster. But when I walked in and saw Bethany—tear-stained eyes, tissue poised perfectly in hand—being comforted for her “ordeal” (she slept on a floor—big deal), I rebelled.
They wanted the goods on me, they’d have to prove it.
“You wanted to see me, Principal,” I asked in my c
heeriest voice. It was my attempt at “look at me, I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Principal Doucette straightened. “Sit down, Sophie.” Our principal was wearing grey trousers and a button down shirt, same as always. He may have dressed conservatively in his role of educating the fine minds of my generation but his short, neat dreads made me think he was a lot cooler than his professional appearance let on.
He motioned me to a chair. Happily, my favorite one was available. I’d been in that office so many times, I’d done a Three Bears rundown on the furniture; too hard, too soft, just right. With the large window to my right and a massive bookcase behind Doucette’s desk for perusing titles, there were lots of distractions for the inattentive at heart.
I sat down and did a double-take as I noticed a woman sitting off to the side. Maybe thirty, her hair was styled in a short pixie cut and dyed purple. She wore a funky dress with a ton of silver jewelry. Was she Bethany’s cool aunt or something?
“Hi, Sophie.” She gave me a friendly smile. “I’m Ms. Keeper. Great to meet you.”
“It is?” I answered back.
“Ms. Keeper is our new guidance counselor,” Principal Doucette explained.
“What? Why?”
He frowned at my bluntness.
I tried to backtrack. “I mean, sorry, but I just saw Mrs. Rivers last night at bed check.”
“She had a family emergency she had to take care of,” the principal replied. “We were lucky to get a replacement sent in so quickly.”
Ms. Keeper grinned at me. “He means I’m low on the district totem pole and work Sundays.”
I grinned back. I couldn’t help but like her.
Bethany sniffed, loudly, wanting the attention placed firmly back on her. “My chakras are deeply damaged from my trauma.”
“Bethany, yes, sorry,” the principal soothed. He turned to me. “Do you know why I’ve called you in?”
So my chakras could be deeply damaged from listening to Bethany? “No.”
“A very disturbing thing happened last night. Bethany was locked in the staff bathroom and not found for some time.”
It took everything I had not to laugh at her patently fake expression of woe. The internal mantra of “you have a brain tumor and are either going crazy or dying” helped keep me looking suitably sober. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No, you’re not.” Bethany turned to Principal Doucette. “She’s so consumed with jealousy that she went dressed as me to the dance, then locked me in that bathroom. Buddha says that ‘he who envies others does not obtain peace of mind.’ She has no peace of mind. Her inner light is diminished. It unbalances her.”
Bethany speak for “she’s crazy.” I couldn’t really argue that point so I argued another. “Why?”
“Why what?” she retorted.
“Why did I supposedly lock you in?”
“Because.”
“Because isn’t an answer, kiddo.” All of us turned to look at Ms. Keeper. I was especially shocked to hear someone defend me. Or, if not defend me, then not exactly support Bethany.
I smiled gratefully at Ms. Keeper.
Bethany looked confused. I’m sure she was. She was so used to adults believing her every word that her brain must have been short-circuiting. I hoped her head would explode.
Ms. Keeper looked inquiringly at Bethany. “Well? You must have a reason behind your charge.”
I raised an eyebrow and threw a bland smile at Bethany. Even if she could positively identify me, which she couldn’t, there was no way for her to nail me without admitting to her planned escapade last night.
Bethany hesitated. “She just doesn’t like me.” So sad.
“If I didn’t like you,” I replied, “why did I go as you to the dance? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” I pointed out to my new best friend, Ms. Keeper.
She frowned. Whoops. Too far.
“I’m sorry, Bethany,” Principal Doucette said, “unless any proof arises, we’ll have to assume it was merely a case of a faulty lock.”
Bethany lowered her eyes and sighed in a shuddery breath. “May I have extensions on my current projects to restore myself back to optimum energy?”
“Of course,” he said.
Miraculously, I manage to keep from gagging. I stood, eager to get out of there.
“One last item, Sophie,” he added. “You do admit to dressing as Bethany last night?”
I nodded.
“Did part of that costume involve a red wig?”
“Yes.”
“Then do you care to explain how that wig was found outside school grounds this morning?”
Busted.
Bethany brightened.
“I have no idea. I threw it out last night because it was itchy and giving me a headache.” The memory of why I’d actually had a headache, complete with every mad image I’d seen, came rushing back to me. I felt nauseous.
Ms. Keeper was concerned. “Do you feel all right?”
I shook my head. “I need to lie down. May I go?”
Principal Doucette glanced at me, probably to check if I was faking it, but whatever he saw convinced him because he nodded.
I stumbled out of his office and into the secretary’s area, Bethany on my heels.
She shoved me into the corner of the front office counter, hard, as she moved past me.
That was gonna bruise.
“Sophie?” Ms. Keeper had followed us. “Can I speak with you?”
That didn’t sound good. “I was just about to call my mom.”
Bethany left, making sure to give our counselor a big smile on her way out.
“One minute. I’m betting you know a lot more about what happened then you’re letting on.” Ms. Keeper held up her hands to stop my automatic protest of innocence. “If you were behind Bethany’s lock-in, then I’m concerned about what might have prompted it. Girls like Bethany are …”
I couldn’t wait to see how she finished that sentence.
“Bullies. If that’s what’s happening, then you need to speak up. I can help you.”
Yeah, right. “Thanks. Bethany and I are fine.”
Ms. Keeper sighed. “I’m not going to let this go. I want to help you find your voice. Get empowered. You don’t need to live as a victim.”
Nice thought. But bullying hardly mattered if I was about to drop dead from a tumor. “Can I call my mom now?”
She gave a reluctant nod. “Of course. If you aren’t ready to let me help you, I’m glad you at least have your mom to confide in.”
I may have laughed out loud at the idea of confiding in Felicia about anything because Ms. Keeper gave me an odd look. “Yeah. My mom’s great,” I covered.
She patted my hand. “We’ll talk more another time.”
The second she left, I booted it to the phone on the far end of the counter, which was specifically for students in the event of an emergency. I figured this qualified.
With shaking fingers, I dialed Felicia’s number up at her swanky chalet in the ski resort town of Whistler and prayed that she’d answer.
“Hello?” At least she sounded sober.
I fought back the absurd urge to cry “Mommy, I’m dying.” I hadn’t called Felicia “mommy” since I was six years old. The desire to do so now must have meant there was something seriously wrong with me.
“Felicia?”
“Sophie? What’s wrong? I hope you’re not calling for money again. And you certainly better not be in any kind of trouble.”
Yup. That killed any comfort fantasies I had about this lady.
Felicia was all about appearances. To have a child be anything less than exceptional was a huge disappointment. Having a child at all was a huge disappointment, so it wa
s odd she’d adopted me in the first place. I think she’d been trying to impress a guy. Which should give you an idea of the lengths Felicia would go to get what she wanted.
She’d learned to spin the truth about most of my shortcomings—imagined or otherwise—pretty well, but there would be no getting around it if I got myself kicked out. And since my prime directive was to stay on mom’s payroll and graduate, buying me time to figure out what I was going to do with my life, I had to suck it up and deal the best I could.
I put on my best “good girl” voice. “I was wondering what you knew about my birth family?”
“God, Sophie. It’s far too early for me to remember ancient history like that.”
This was going well. “Just the medical history. Any mental illness? Any problems with brain cancer?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You came from a perfectly healthy family. Can you see me taking some sickling?”
She had a point there. “Maybe you weren’t told?”
“Sophie, you’ve barely even ever had a cold. Your robust health is one of the few consistently admirable traits about you.” Oh yeah, I glowed at that stunning compliment.
“So don’t get all hypochondriac on me now,” she admonished.
I had one more question for her. “Am I Greek?”
She snorted in disdain. “Why would I adopt a foreign?” Which to Felicia meant anyone not of Anglo-Saxon origin, no matter how many generations here in Canada. Oddly, her straightforward racism kind of cheered me up. “This is an exceedingly strange conversation. Are you on drugs?”
“Drugs!” I yelped happily. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?” she asked, annoyed.
“Nothing. Nice talking to you, Felicia.”
“Uh-huh. Goodbye, Sophie.” She hung up.
I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t crazy. Somehow I must have touched something or drunk something that had been laced with drugs. Not an impossibility at this school.
My Ex From Hell (The Blooming Goddess Trilogy) Page 4