Cora gasped.
She didn’t know . . .
The lady froze, noting my reaction and Cora’s. She was thinking, but I could tell she couldn’t figure it out. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, there was an authoritative and slightly condescending tone to her voice, as if we were wasting her time.
“Your sister, Willow Malcolm? If she’s absent today, she’ll need a note. I only received the information for you, my dear.”
I couldn’t say it. The words were stuck in my throat, and I hushed Cora before she could explain.
My fingers were clumsy as I grabbed a pen and piece of paper off the lady’s desk.
She died June 29th, I wrote. Not coming.
I folded the paper over and then folded it again.
Sliding it to her, I grabbed my stuff and hurried out of there. I didn’t want to be anywhere near her when she read it.
I failed.
I heard her gasp as the office door closed behind me.
“The records must not be updated. Or the records at your old school weren’t updated. I don’t know.” Cora was right next to me, holding her books close to her chest.
I was walking blind, no idea where I was going, and it took a moment before I regrouped.
Locker. I needed to find my locker.
Glancing down at the number, I realized I was in the wrong hallway. I’d have to walk back in front of the office again, and there was no way I wanted to do that.
I read my first class and showed Cora the classroom number. “Where is this?”
She bit her lip, tugging at her shirtsleeve. “It’s down the hallway.”
That was welcome news, and I nodded. “I’m going to class.”
“We still have twenty minutes—”
I was already off. I called over my shoulder, “That’s fine with me.”
I’d find my locker later.
When I got to the room, the teacher wasn’t in, so I couldn’t ask if there would be assigned seating. I slid into the seat in the back row and farthest from the door. I still had my book bag with me, but I didn’t care. I pulled out a notebook and pencil, and I put my phone in my lap, making sure it was on silent. Then I looked out the window as everyone came in.
Conversations slowed as people filled in around where I was sitting.
I felt them watching me. I didn’t look. I couldn’t. A few tears slipped down, and I willed them to stop. I was doing a great impersonation of a statue.
Perhaps that was what I’d be for Halloween.
“Okay, everyone.” The teacher paused when the door opened.
I finally looked around, surprised at who sat beside me. Before I could process that, a student darted into the classroom and handed a note to the teacher.
As he stopped and read it, a weird déjà vu came over me.
I knew. I knew what he was going to do next.
The teacher stiffened, looking up. His eyes moved over the students, landing on me.
Remorse flared in his eyes before he coughed, handed the student back the note, and murmured, “Maybe let the next teacher know as well. All of them, in fact.” He said it quietly, but I heard him in the back of the room.
The school didn’t want teachers to make the same mistake as the office lady, so news of my sister’s death was circulating, room to room. No teacher would read the attendance sheet and ask for Willow Malcolm. No one would ask if we were sisters and where she was.
It was a nice gesture, but I felt stripped raw anyway.
I had a strong feeling the teacher wouldn’t call my name during attendance, and I was right. He named every other student in the room.
When he called on Ryan’s friends—Nick and Tom—they replied “Here” from the seats around me, and I was grateful. I wasn’t sure if this was where they normally would’ve sat, but I’d take it.
Their presence shielded me.
Chapter Fourteen
I was brave enough to sneak past the office after my second class. It was ridiculous. I was sandwiched inside a group of students, but I swear I felt the office lady watching me. I knew it couldn’t be true.
Ryan came over as I was closing my locker to go to my fourth period. We had one more class before lunch, one more hour before goddamn freedom.
“How’s it going?”
And cue the other form of attention. I rested against my locker, looking down, but I could see from under my eyelashes. Oh yes, everyone was dying to know about Ryan and the mystery girl.
“What are you? The Greek god of dating?”
He smirked. “Hot shit. Did you already forget?”
“Right. Eagle of hotness.”
“Um, yeah.” His grin turned wicked, and he glanced around and saw all the attention too. Leaning closer, he dropped his voice. “For real. How are you? Cora told me about Margaret.”
I took a leap and figured Margaret was the front desk lady. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” He gestured to the hallway. “What’s your next class?”
“Espanol. Y tu?”
“Si, si.” He nodded. “Come on. You can be my table partner.”
I shot him a dry look, which he returned.
Once we got there, I realized it wasn’t a seniors-only class. Erin and Peach were in one corner, and I couldn’t stop my groan. Ryan snorted. His hand came to the small of my back, and he urged me forward. We walked to the back of the class and the very last table in the room. A guy after my own heart. We both slid in, and as if they dropped out of midair, Tom and Nick came to occupy the table in front of us.
“Hey, man.” Tom leaned over after the class started and worksheets were handed out. He did a fist-bumping thing with Ryan. Nick followed suit. Both looked at me, saw my face, and waved instead.
“You made it out of first period unscathed,” Nick noted.
“I did. Thanks for sitting by me.”
He shrugged. “It’s cool. That’s where we sit anyway. Seemed fitting you were there already.”
That was true.
They began talking to Ryan about classes, a party already in the works, and girls. I felt their glances, but I tuned them out.
I wished I cared. I really did, but I didn’t.
I felt her everywhere.
Sitting next to me.
Standing with me.
Walking beside me.
She was me, but I wasn’t her anymore.
I glanced at Ryan from the corner of my eye.
I’d latched on to him. He was a bandage over my wounds—covering them but not really healing them. They were still raw and open, but I was hoping to move fast enough that my insides wouldn’t spill out everywhere.
I was no longer a part of any of this, any of these people. I was on the outside, and I was the only one who really understood that.
No one else around me could claim to be a twinless twin. But that was my new identity.
I could almost hear Willow yelling at me, Those girls need to be taught a lesson. They aren’t the queens anymore. We rule now. You and me, Mac. The Willow Mac Attack. That’s you and me.
“Mac?”
I drew in a ragged breath. I could fucking hear her.
Her hand touched my arm. “Mac?”
I screamed, lurching out of my chair. Scrambling backward, my back hit the wall, and I gaped at where I’d been sitting.