The barracks were the only other looming building in the cove, besides the apartment complex the school was attached to; the complex that would be my temporary home for the next 131 days, give or take. I’d gone from living in a dank, dark city one day, to a hidden hamlet the next. I wasn’t sure which was worse, dangerous streets or claustrophobia.
“Staying with your uncle will keep you out of trouble until April.” Digs might’ve thought he was right, but I wondered if that was possible. Not because I wanted to get into trouble, though sometimes making questionable decisions when hanging out with the wrong crowd seemed like the lesser of most evils. And it wasn’t like I was always in trouble, but trouble definitely seemed to find me everywhere I went—it always had, even as a little kid. For some reason, despite who and what my family was, I always had a hard time just walking away.
Once I saw the place my case manager was talking about though, I knew Digs was right. There was nothing to do in Whitely, short of skipping rocks and fishing. There was nowhere to go. There were no gangs or bad areas of town to worry about, at least not that I could see from where I sat. There weren’t even neighborhoods.
The only threat to my good behavior and sanity here was my Uncle Jimmy himself. He was a first-rate asshole, yet somehow he’d convinced Digs some tough love would be good for me. Only, I wasn’t sure Jimmy even knew how to spell love, even if he had tough down to a science with every scowl, grunt, and scratch of his junk. It was how Neanderthals expressed dominance, and it was obvious Jimmy hadn’t evolved much in his forty-odd years.
My gaze shifted to the dark hallway. Bizarre as this place was, they had school on Mondays, right?
I glanced around the empty classroom, less than inspired. The windows were big, and dying plants in painted pots lined the sills. The room’s stuffy, recirculated air made my nose tingle. Odd as it was, attached to the apartment complex for winter ease, I thought this might be the shittiest school I’d been to yet.
Much like the rest of the building, it felt more like a 1970s hotel—from the hum of the overhead lighting to the drab wall color and ribbed carpet floor—it was all leftovers from another era and needed major updates, the furnace especially.
I bunched my sweatshirt sleeves up to my elbows, and peered up at the ticking clock, hanging between two faded maps, one of Alaska and one of the United States. It was already a quarter to nine. Had Jimmy forgotten to tell me something? Was there a Monday morning roundup off-site? Had I read the painted numbers above the door outside incorrectly? Was this not the eleventh and twelfth grade classroom?
With a yawn, I leaned back in my chair. As much as I hated Jimmy’s lumpy couch, at this rate, I could’ve caught a few more z’s before schlepping down here, especially since the apartment had finally quieted down after Jimmy had left for work.
Yeah, Whitely was making it way too easy to skip school, and I was about to give up and find myself some breakfast, when I finally heard voices further down the hall.
Tapping my pencil on the chipped corner of the desk, I waited for my new classmates to come into view.
“—was great, Jeannie,” a woman said, and my heartbeat kicked up a pace. Students trickled in through the door. White skin, tan skin, brown and red hair. A couple of the students were tall but most of them were short. There were a handful of them, and their mutterings faded as they paused just inside the doorway.
“Oh—” The woman I assumed was the teacher put her hand on one student’s shoulder to steady herself as she practically careened into him. Then she smiled at me, her brown eyes crinkling. “You’re the new student, Alejandro.” Lifting her bag strap over her head, she walked over to her desk, her dirty-blonde ponytail swaying with each step.
“It’s Alex, actually.” I sat forward and continued tapping my pencil on the edge of the desk, studying the five new faces blinking at me. All of them but the teacher looked to be about my age, give or take a year or two.
The teacher set her bag on her desk chair. “Alex it is then,” she chirped, and pointed to her head. “Mentally noted.” She didn’t look like any teacher I’d ever had before, young and smiling—she was even kinda hot. Definitely nothing like the comic book-loving string bean I had at East Anchorage High, or the macho chick at Bartlett who looked like she could kick my ass. I’m pretty sure she would’ve too, if it hadn’t been considered child abuse. I was perpetually late to her class.
The carpet was old and bunched under the students’ feet as they weaved through the desks to their seats. The shock of seeing a new face had worn off, and they bickered and chatted like they’d known each other for years, only flicking cursory glances in my direction.
Remotely, I wondered why there were seats enough for fifteen students if there were only a handful of us. It was getting closer to Christmas, so they were probably all faraway somewhere, traveling or whatever happy families did during the holidays.
“So, am I early or something?” I watched as they all casually took their seats. There were no late bells and there was clearly zero urgency to sit down, though it was almost nine.
“Excuse me?” The teacher glanced up from her notebook.
I nodded to the clock above the door.
“Oh—no, not really. Things were a little chaotic this morning. I was gone last week due to a family illness out of town. So, Tyler and Jeannie were showing me how their science project was coming along in the greenhouse up on the top floor.”
A girl with freckles and red hair looked intriguingly over at me. Tyler, I assumed, nudged her with his elbow to get out of his way as he plopped into the desk beside her.
“At any rate, welcome to class.” The teacher gestured around the room. “Sorry we weren’t here to greet you properly.” She was what I would’ve expected an elementary school teacher to be like, animated and sweet. She didn’t look old enough to be a high school teacher, at least not with a name like Mrs. Gunner, or was it Mrs. Anderson? I’d imagined a salt and pepper haired older woman with glasses and a kind smile, for some reason.
“I’m Mrs. Gunderson, but everyone calls me Katie,” she said, pulling out a folder from her bag. I wasn’t sure I could handle all the strange in this place and also call my teacher by her first name, so I mentally opted to call her Mrs. Gunderson.
“The rules are fairly loose here, as long as your work gets done,” she continued, and flipped through the file in her hand. Her eyebrows pinched together within seconds, then she glanced at me again, her expression narrowing slightly.
It was a file about me, obviously.
“This is a much smaller school than you’re used to,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Isn’t it?” It wasn’t a real question, because that was evident. It was a smaller school than just about anyone outside of Whitely had ever been to. “We might be less structured than what you’re accustomed to, Alex, but we expect students to behave with respect and get their work done on time. There are consequences for misconduct, but hopefully we won’t have to get into any of that. Think of us more like a family—your family.” Her smile broadened again. “That being said, welcome to Whitely.”
She must’ve read the part about juvie and the bullshit assault and battery accusations from last year. They dropped the charges, but it was still a stain on my name, one of many, and I was glad they could be expunged on my eighteenth birthday, like they were never there at all.
“There’s a lot to get up to speed on, including choosing a science project that we’re well into already. We’ll figure something out though,” she said pleasantly. “Have you received a tour of the building yet? We aren’t always learning out of the classroom or working out in the gymnasium.”
I shook my head.
“We’ll see if Tyler or someone can show you around before school tomorrow. There’s a movie room on the twelfth floor, and city council meetings are on the thirteenth floor on the first Tuesday of every month, which I offer extra credit to attend.”
I shrugged. “I have free time. I can explore the buil
ding on my own.” It would take all of an hour, I thought wryly.
“Oh, great.” Mrs. Gunderson inhaled, and gripped the back of her swivel chair. The cushion indented as her fingers pressed into it more tightly, like she was steadying herself for whatever came next. “So, Alex, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” She gestured to the other students, all of them looking at me.
I wasn’t sure if it was the recycled air pumping through the building, or if all the gawking faces were getting to me, but heat swirled over my skin, and I pushed my long sleeves creeping down my arm back up to my elbows.
“Uh—I’m Alex,” I said. “I just moved here from Anchorage—”
The door creaked opened and a strawberry blonde peeked inside. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, her face flushed as she glanced at the teacher.
“Oh, good—Sophie, you came.”
Sophie took a seat two rows over, oblivious to me, unlike the rest of them. But she was harder to miss. Sophie was tall and slender, with long hair that brushed the middle of her back. She was pretty, in a preppy, ripped jeans, and off-the-shoulder sweater kinda way, with her fancy Ugg boots. Normally I would write her off as a rich girl—prom queen material for sure—only she was quiet and meek as she settled into her desk, unlike Jeannie who kept looking at me with hungry appreciation.
“I heard Jesse was home sick,” Mrs. Gunderson said. I wasn’t sure if Jesse was Sophie’s brother or sister, but Mrs. Gunderson’s expression turned sullen. “I’m glad you’re feeling okay. With all the commotion in the lower forty-eight, even the littlest flu is frightening.”
Sophie frowned. “I didn’t know—” She paused when her blue eyes met mine. She straightened in her seat, looked up at Mrs. Gunderson again, then continued. “I haven’t talked to him since Friday, so I didn’t know he was sick.”
“He better not come back if he’s sick,” Jeannie said, twirling a red strand of hair around her finger. “I can’t get sick.”
“Why not,” Tyler muttered, “because it’s bad for your complexion?” He laughed, but no one else did.
“Not in here, Tyler. You know the rules.” Mrs. Gunderson was capable of a somewhat commanding tone, which was surprising.
“That’s her brother,” the guy next to me whispered. “They fight all the time. She’s one year younger.”
I nodded as Jeannie looked at me for the third time. I’d seen the same look that was on her face a dozen times between four different schools—I was the new kid with a less than shining reputation, and girls were attracted to it like a leprechaun to a pot of gold. It was like my rap sheet was plastered to my forehead everywhere I went. Girls like Jeannie could sniff me out, latch on long enough to feel a sense of danger, then they’d get bored and move on when they realized I wasn’t as dangerous as they’d imagined. Not only was I uninterested in Jeannie, I was planning on staying miles away from her.
“Sophie,” Mrs. Gunderson continued, “this is Alex. He’s new to Whitely, obviously. He was just about to tell us a bit about himself. But for those of you who haven’t already heard, Alex is Jimmy’s nephew.”
“Jimmy Hart has a nephew?” Jeannie spat, blinking at me like she was beyond confused. “Isn’t Jimmy too young to have a nephew?”
“Ortiz, idiot. Not Hart.” Tyler scoffed. “Can’t you see the resemblance?”
My knuckles whitened as I gripped the edge of the desk. Although Tyler likely referred to my exotic bronze skin color and nothing more, Jimmy was the last person on the entire planet I ever wanted to be compared to. He was a deadbeat loser who was past his prime and plummeting quickly to a washed-up has-been. The entire building would have to be blind not to notice.
Mrs. Gunderson cleared her throat. “As I was saying, this is Alex Ortiz,” she emphasized as she outstretched her hand to me, like a portrait on display. I stole a quick glance at the small lotus tattoo on her wrist, surprisingly pleased Mrs. Gunderson had a bit of a wild side too, it seemed.
All the students stared at me expectantly, except for Sophie. She was preoccupied with her phone.
“Soph,” Mrs. Gunderson hedged.
Startled, Sophie pushed her phone to the corner of her desk, blinking at the teacher before she turned to look at me, or more like she was looking through me. Her blue eyes gleamed with sadness.
Mrs. Gunderson nodded. “Go ahead, Alex.”
I cleared my throat.
“Like I said, I’m Alex. I’m staying here until April.”
“Why?” Jeannie asked. “What happens in April?”
“On the tenth, I turn eighteen and I can leave,” I told her. I could taste the freedom merely thinking about it.
“Where were you before?” She blinked at me with sincere interest. “No one comes here because they want to,” she muttered the last part with a smile.
Even though I didn’t want to tell stories about my life, like we were sitting around the campfire in need of entertainment, I had to tell them something or they would keep staring. “I was living with a foster family in Anchorage. It didn’t work out,” I said plainly. “Now I’m here.”
I was grateful when Mrs. Gunderson cleared her throat. “Are you looking into any colleges, Alex? I’ve been helping Tyler, Jesse, and Sophie with their applications. Maybe I could help you with yours too.”
I glanced at Sophie, her foot bouncing as she bit her middle fingernail, staring at the blank screen of her phone. “Yeah, maybe,” I said so Mrs. Gunderson would move on, but the answer was no. I wouldn’t be in Whitely long enough to worry about school. I’d worry about my GED later, after I got out of here and could live my life for myself instead of for adults who cared more about a monthly check than anything having to do with me. It wasn’t like I could afford to go to college anyway.
“Well, we can circle back to that after class. We better get started.” Mrs. Gunderson clapped her hands together.
I heaved out an exhausted breath, glad my pointless introduction was over, and glanced over at Sophie still staring down at her phone.
“Jeannie, can you pass these out for me, please?” She handed a small stack of papers to Jeannie in the front row. “As I mentioned before I left,” Mrs. Gunderson continued, addressing everyone. “We’re talking about the Revolutionary War this week. And we may or may not have a pop quiz on who the key players were and how it ended.” She laughed at her none too subtle warning as she scribbled on the whiteboard.
“Here you go.” Jeannie appeared beside my desk. Her red hair was up in a half ponytail, her eyes thick with black makeup, and her clothes tight enough to appreciate her feminine curves. She grinned fully this time—not just a smirk, and a dimple formed in her cheek, which I wasn’t expecting.
“Thanks.” I smiled back, and took the handout. Leaning back in my chair, I admired the sway of her hips as she weaved her way through the rows, handing out two more papers before glancing back at me.
“Alex,” Mrs. Gunderson warned with a lifted eyebrow. I’d already been caught flirting, but in all fairness it was Jeannie, not me. Mrs. Gunderson grabbed a textbook off the shelf beneath the window and walked it over to me. “Page forty-seven. You’re getting a crash course in the Siege of Yorktown.”
I didn’t get further than writing my name at the top of the page, when my gaze traveled to Sophie again as she tapped her pen on the side of her book. Apparently I wasn’t the only anxious one today, and by the looks of it, I’d say she was on the brink of tears.
3
Sophie
December 7
The first couple hours of class felt more like eons. Class was the last place I wanted to be right now. That is, until the new guy came to sit beside me for our chapter review exercises.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. As far as a summary partner went, he caught on more quickly than I’d expected. He remembered the answer to every question without writing them down. Meanwhile, I could barely focus on what we were supposed to be studying to begin with.
“I don’t know how, I just remem
ber random shit sometimes,” he explained. Even though Alex was the new kid, somehow I was the one who felt out of place.
“All right,” Katie said from the front of the room. “Time to wrap it up for a bit. I can hear your stomachs growling from here.”
“Finally,” Alex grumbled and slammed his book shut. The rest of the classroom did the same and moved back to their seats, but I couldn’t help but watch Alex as he gathered a ratty notebook covered in Sharpie doodles. Then he picked up his broken pencil.
Intriguing, that was a word for him. “Thanks,” I said. “For the study help, I mean.”
He looked over his shoulder, then nodded, if a bit reluctantly. He was nice enough—and cute even, in a bad boy sort of way—but none of that mattered, not when my life was essentially over.
I wrapped my hands around my stomach and slouched back into my seat. It wasn’t hunger that had my tummy rumbling, but pure dread and fear. I hated fear—it made me feel weaker than I already was.
Letting my head fall back, I squeezed my eyes shut and took a calming, deep breath as Katie explained the essay prompt for after lunch.
A child is not the end of the world. I had to keep telling myself that or risk a breakdown in front of everyone. Women did it every day around the world and in worse circumstances than mine, and with worse partners, even if Jesse was the type of guy who would rather lie to avoid conflict than admit the condom broke the last time we had sex and own up to it.
“Enjoy your lunch break!” Katie called, as a patter of footsteps hurried out of the classroom. “Are you all right, Sophie?”
“What?” My eyes flew open, and Katie stood from her desk. Cheeks beet red, I smiled. “Yes. Sorry. I’m just worried about Jesse, that’s all.” I cleared my throat and tucked my hair behind my ear as I gathered my things. “I didn’t sleep well either, with all the talk about the outbreak on the East Coast—”
The Longest Night Page 2