“I’m sure it’ll be fine if you’re giving her the case,” she insists. When I make no effort to take it, she gives me a dirty look. “She needs her makeup, and you’re going to take it to her because, unlike you, my daughter cares about her appearance.”
“So what if I don’t care?” I stuff the case into my bag. “Looking pretty isn’t the most important thing in the world.”
She arches a brow. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You look like a homeless person.”
Sometimes, I think she treats me so shitty because of how her husband and daughter treat her, like she’s deflecting all her bottled-up aggravation on me. It used to hurt. Now, it just pisses me off and makes me want to annoy her.
“Yeah, well, it’s better than looking like a skank,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen in horror. “My daughter does not look like a skank. How dare you say so?”
I raise a brow at her. “Who said I was talking about your daughter?”
She shakes her head furiously. “You know what? It’s time for you to get out of this car. I’m sick of looking at you.”
I’m more than ready to get out, but as I peer outside at the school, a drop of anxiety rises inside me.
Dixie May was right. It's a really small school. Way smaller than the one we used to go to. I don't know whether to be nervous about that or not. On the one hand, it means fewer people will mock me. But it also means people will be nosier.
“Get out!” Aunt Beth snaps. “And I’m not giving you any lunch money. You’ll have to use your own.”
“I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise.” I reach for the door handle.
Her lips curl into a sneer. “That’s very debatable.”
I push open the door. “So is Dixie May’s IQ.”
“Dixie May isn’t stupid.” She rotates around in the seat to glare at me. “She just prefers fashion and guys over schoolwork. That’s not that uncommon for a teenage girl. You’re the anomaly, Raven.”
I give a shrug. “I wasn’t trying to argue that I wasn’t an anomaly. I was merely pointing out that, if you think I’m unintelligent, then you must think your daughter is an idiot.”
“Dixie May isn’t an idiot,” she scoffs. “She just gets distracted because she has a life.” She flashes me a smirk. “Unlike you.”
“I may be a social outcast, but at least I’m not an idiot. And when this last year of hell is all over and I graduate, I’m going to take my good grades, go off to college, and make something of myself, while Dixie May probably ends up having a shotgun wedding because she can’t keep her legs closed.”
Her nostrils flare. “You little shit—”
I hop out of the car and slam the door shut.
She starts to roll the window down as I hurry toward the sidewalk that leads to the front doors, knowing she won’t make a scene. It’s not her style. No, her style is to tell my uncle, who’s going to either be annoyed with her that she’s being a tattletale or pissed off at me, depending on his mood. Either way, there’s going to be shouting in the house when my uncle Don gets home tonight.
“You can get your own ass home, Ravenlee Wilowwynter!” she shouts from the car. “I won’t be picking you up!”
I cringe as the handful of students walking around glance in my direction.
Awesome. What a great way to start my first day at a new school. Then again, if Dixie May has her way, it’ll be a shitty day for me anyway. And now I have the walk home to look forward to. It’s my own damn fault for riling my aunt up. I just get so sick of her shit sometimes.
Letting out a slow exhale, I continue toward the school with people eyeballing me, eyeballing my outfit, eyeballing my crazy hair. Then the whispering begins. Finally, I can’t take it anymore, so I stick my hand into my pocket and dig out my phone. Then I grab my earbuds, pop them in, and crank up some classic rock, the same music my dad used to listen to.
I’ve been entering school this way for as long as I can remember. Music helps block out everything, including my own annoying thoughts. Though I made a promise to myself not to do that today, to try a fresh start, I guess old habits die hard.
I don’t want to listen to the whispering. Don’t want to listen to the name calling. Don’t want to listen to everyone talk about all the made-up stories Dixie May has spread about me.
“She’s a slut.”
“She’s a satanic freak.”
“I once saw her kill a puppy just for fun.”
“She slept with a teacher.”
“Slut.”
“Freak.”
“Murderer.”
I yank myself away from the memories, telling myself that I don’t need to rehash the lies she told about me.
Well, almost all of them were lies.
One carries some truth to it.
Murderer.
Chapter Three
I decide to take a little detour before I enter the school and sneak out by the dumpsters to take a few hits. It’s a risky move, for sure, since I’m not familiar with how this school works, but I need my calm.
Once I’m done, I spray some perfume on, put some eye drops in, and then head inside.
Last night, my aunt told me that I’m supposed to stop by the office this morning to pick up my schedule. I expect to see Dixie May in there and plan on giving her the stupid sparkly case then, but by the time I enter the office, she’s either already picked up her schedule or she decided to spend the morning trying to find a clique she can dictate.
The secretary sitting behind the front desk looks up at me as I wander in, eyeing my outfit over. After seeing how most of the people in the hallway are dressed, I kind of expected that.
Preppy is the word that came to mind when I noted the outfits almost everyone is sporting. Not that I believe everyone is preppy here, but there are an awful lot of polo shirts and khaki pants.
Once the secretary is done scrutinizing me, her lips move, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.
Shit. I forgot I had my earbuds in.
I tug one out. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Can you repeat that?”
She sighs. “I said, can I help you with something?”
I rest my arms on the counter. “Yeah, I’m new here and need to get my schedule.”
She turns toward the computer. “What’s the name?”
“Ravenlee Wilowwynter.”
She starts typing then pauses. “How do you spell the last name?”
I spell it for her, and she types it in, briefly smiling. "That's a beautiful name. Does it mean anything?"
I could tell her the reason my parents named me after the cursed bird, tell her the prettier part of the name. But nothing about me or my life is pretty anymore, so I answer her with honesty instead.
“Yeah, bad luck. Or well, Raven does, which is what I go, by so…”
She glances up at me with her brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“Raven, the bird, represents bad luck,” I say with a shrug. “Which is what people call me.”
She blinks. “Oh.” Then she starts to look back at her computer.
“They also symbolize wisdom, knowledge, creativity, mysteriousness, and unpredictability,” a guy who looks to be around my age says as he steps up beside me.
I start to turn my head, wondering how the hell this guy knows what ravens symbolize. Then I almost do a double-take.
He seriously might be the prettiest guy I've ever seen, with chin-length blond hair, long eyelashes, and bright blue eyes. And just by looking at his pretty face, I expect him to be dressed in an outfit that goes with the preppy theme around here. So, I'm surprised he's wearing a black shirt, matching jeans, and boots. He also has a chain dangling from his belt loop and leather bands covering his wrists.
The strangest part about him is the way he’s smiling at me. I can’t even remember the last time someone smiled at me, let alone some pretty guy with eyelashes so long I swear he could be wearing mascara.
“Good morning, Mr. Hathingford,” the secretary greets him with what can only be described as a somewhat tolerant, somewhat amused look. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence today?”
He rests his arms on the counter and gives her the same charming smile he gave me. “Now, what’d be the fun in just telling you? Let’s make a game out of it. I’ll give you three tries to guess, and if you guess wrong, I get to walk out of here, free and clear.”
I glance at the secretary, expecting her to get annoyed. Instead, she shakes her head and cracks a small smile. “I’m not going to guess, because I already know. And I’ll give you the pass for today. This is the last time, though. I swear, the next time you come and ask me for one, I’m going to give you a detention slip instead.” Then she pushes back from the desk, stands up, and walks off toward the back of the room.
Grinning, the guy leans over the counter, steals a sucker out of a bin on her desk, and then pops it into his mouth.
Okay, I guess it’s going to take a while to get my schedule.
I start to lift my earbud toward my ear, preparing to go back to my Zen state, when the guy smiles at me.
“Are you new here?” he asks, rolling the sucker in his mouth. “I haven’t seen you around.”
I could just answer him. It’d be the polite thing to do. I could try to be nice and see if I can make a friend, but that’d be pretty naïve of me. And while I may be a lot of things, I’m not polite or naïve.
I let out a quiet sigh and lower my earbud. “Do I really need to answer that?”
Amusement sparkles in his eyes as he angles his head to the side in confusion. “Yeah … Why wouldn’t you?”
I cross my arms on top of the counter. “Because this school has a total of what? Like two hundred people? So I’m fairly confident you know you’ve never seen me around before and already know I’m new.”
His confusion fades, amusement taking over and he pulls the sucker out of his mouth. “That’s an excellent point.” He gives a glance around before leaning toward me. “Want to know a little secret? I really did know you are new. I was just trying to find an opening to start a conversation with you.”