I stopped in the doorway, staring at her in misery. “I think . . . I think I may have bedbugs on me.”
Her brows furrowed. “Bedbugs?”
I nodded. “I work with my mama in the mornings at a motel, changing bedding and there were three of them on my sweater—”
“Okay, dear, take a seat and I’ll check you over. My goodness, it’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay. I’d humiliated not only myself but Preston and Cole. I’d live in shame forever.
I heard a small sound behind me and turned to see Preston standing in the doorway breathing hard. “Are you all right?”
I looked away. “I’m fine. You can go.”
At this point I was beginning to feel numb. I just wanted to be checked over, go take my final, and go home so I could cry. But Preston came in and sat down on the chair on the opposite wall, leaning forward on his knees and clasping his hands together.
“Stand up, dear, and I’ll check the outside of your clothing. The most important thing, though, is to check your mattress when you get home.”
“I don’t have a mattress,” I said dully. I didn’t look at Preston but I caught him twitch slightly out of my peripheral vision. I couldn’t bother to care that he now knew that embarrassing fact. Could it get any worse? “At least, not one that’s made of material. It’s plastic.”
Mrs. Stephens paused in her perusal of the back of my tank top. “Oh. Well then, you’re probably okay. But it’s still a good idea to wash all your bedding and clothes in hot water and then dry them twice.”
I didn’t bother to tell her that we didn’t have a washer or a dryer, that we used the Laundromat in town, but could only get there every other week or so—and sometimes less often if my mama’s back was really bad.
There was a commotion by the door and then Cole was standing there. “Hey,” he said, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, looking back to him and then to Preston. “Please, go.” Someone might see you here with me.
Preston and Cole both opened their mouths simultaneously but Mrs. Stephens cut in, “I’m going to insist that you go actually, because I need Annalia to remove her clothing so we can get her completely checked out. Now go on back to class, boys.”
They both stared at me for a moment, but I looked away and finally, Preston stood up, rubbing his hands down his hips. “I’ll wait outside for you.”
“Please don’t,” I said without looking at him. He stood there for a few beats longer, and I felt his stare on me, but then he turned and left the room.
“Do you want me—?” Cole asked.
“No.”
I didn’t hear him leave and knew he was lingering, so I looked up to meet his gaze. He looked so troubled and I just wanted him to go. “It’s okay, Cole. Soon this will all be a distant memory. I’m not going to be here forever.” I mustered a half-hearted smile.
His grin was immediate, his head tilted in interest. “Yeah? Where are you gonna be?”
“On the North Shore of Hawaii giving surf lessons to tourists. I just need to learn to surf first.”
He laughed softly. “Sounds perfect.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It does.” I looked back down and a second later I heard his footsteps echoing down the empty hall.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lia – Fifteen Years Old
I didn’t go back to school for the rest of that year. I took my finals and never returned. What was the point? I’d done what I needed to do to pass my freshman year. I couldn’t bear sitting in classes and feeling the humiliation of the kids who were surely laughing behind my back and calling me ugly names, or even worse, feeling disgust and pity. I’d go back next year once Alicia Bardua had gone to college. And I prayed no one would remember that awful, awful day.
I had elaborate fantasies about slipping amnesia-inducing drugs into the town water supply, but couldn’t work out a real-life plan in which I could actually make that happen.
As much as I hated my house, it was a sort of sanctuary because no one ever came by—how could they when they didn’t know where we lived—and we didn’t have a telephone.
Loath as I was to go back to the motel where my mama worked, I did it anyway because she needed my help, and we both needed to eat and keep a roof over our heads.
On the night of the senior prom, though, I felt antsy and cooped up and needed something to do to take my mind off what I knew was happening right across Linmoor.
Doing laundry in town where I could sit in a brightly lit Laundromat by myself reading might not sound very exciting to anyone else, but I took pleasure in it and decided it was a good night to wash clothes.
I loved the whirling sounds filling the space, the fresh smell of detergent and fabric softener, and even the piped-in eighties music the owner played—the same repeating playlist he’d been using for years. Sometimes I’d hear one of those songs somewhere else and I’d be momentarily confused when a different song than the one on the Laundromat playlist came on next.
I hefted our laundry bag onto my back and left the house, asking my mama if she wanted to go with me but knowing she’d say no.
When I stepped outside, sundown was painting the sky in wide, vivid brush strokes of mauve and purple and small splashes of white gold. I halted for a moment just to breathe in the loveliness of it, thinking about all the girls in town getting ready for tonight’s dance and wondering if they, too, were looking out their windows and remarking on what a magical sky it was, how it must certainly mean it was going to be a magical night.