I open the bag to find a donut with pink frosting and sprinkles inside. “Thank you. And what do you mean, there’s still nothing in here?”
“On the walls. On your desk.” She gestures. “No photos. No candles or plants or knickknacks. It’s like you don’t even live here, and you’ve been in this room for months, Summer. It looks like a prison cell.”
“It’s only temporary, my being here,” I say with a shrug as I reach into the bag and pull the donut out, taking a big bite. It’s sugary sweet. The crunch of the sprinkles makes me want more. I devour it in four bites, wishing I had something to drink.
If my mother saw me right now, she’d probably have a coronary.
Sylvie’s not even paying attention. She’s wandering around my room, touching everything. The iPhone charger cord draped across my bedside table. My backpack sitting in the desk chair. My light blue comforter, the bed still unmade. I try to see my room through her eyes, and realize quickly she’s right. It’s boring. Plain. No personality.
“Swear to God, it looks like you’re staying in an institution,” she says, spinning in a slow circle in the middle of my room. “Not even a calendar on the wall with the days marked off by a giant X.”
I know she’s trying to make a joke, but I’m instantly defensive. “I have, what? Six months left here? What’s the point of trying to make it cute?”
“So it’ll feel like home,” she says, emphasizing the last word.
Before I came here, I didn’t feel like I even had a home anymore. There was nothing for me to bring, and Mother suggested nothing. She bought me new bedding, and looking at it now, I realize Sylvie’s right.
“Did you like the donut?” she asks, changing the subject.
“I already ate it all,” I admit, feeling gluttonous.
Sylvie laughs. “You’re welcome. We’re going out to dinner tonight as a family to celebrate Whit’s birthday. Wait until you see the menu! It’s my favorite place to eat.”
Oh God, this all sounds incredibly awkward. “Are you sure it’s really okay that I’m coming with you?”
She makes a face and waves her hand, as if I’m making a big deal out of nothing. “Trust me, it’s fine. I already talked to my parents. Daddy loves when I have friends over. He’s always worried about my social status. Afraid that I’m too isolated because of my ailments.”
Her father is probably right. She doesn’t have a lot of friends, much like me, but her reasons are different than mine. A little more foreboding and gloomy.
“What about Whit?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I rarely say his name out loud in front of Sylvie. It almost feels like an invocation. His name passes my lips and the spirits will rise. The devil will swirl in the air before lunging for me.
So dramatic but every time I think about Halloween night, it leaves me quaking.
“What about him?” Her tone is overly innocent.
“Have you told him I’m going home with you?”
“No.” She laughs when she sees the horror on my face. “Don’t worry! He’ll be fine. You two might have secret, clandestine meetings while you’re there, you never know. It’ll be fun! I know he’s still interested in you.”
She shouldn’t get my hopes up with stories of clandestine meetings. “He is not. He has a new girlfriend.”
And please. The last word I would ever associate with Whit is “fun.”
“His eyes follow you everywhere you go when you’re in the same room together,” she says.
I tilt my head, frowning at her. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I say. He watches you, Summer. All the time. And Whit doesn’t care about anyone—at least none of the girls at our school. Caitlyn is a ruse. I don’t know why he keeps her close, but he has his reasons. The only people he worries about are his friends and they’re usually all that matter to him.”
“I’m sure it means nothing that he looks at me,” I say dismissively, refusing to get my hopes up. “He hates me now. Don’t forget he turned the entire campus against me at one point.”
“Right, and now they leave you alone. And you basically admitted to me you two had something going on. Now you don’t. What’s the deal?” she asks, her eyebrows shooting up. “Is it because of what happened with Bryan?”
My face flushes hotly at the memory. Everyone knows Bryan practically tried to rape me before Whit beat the shit out of him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Uh huh.” The knowing look on her face makes me even more embarrassed. “Well, whatever happened, I doubt Whit hates you.”
“He definitely still hates me,” I say way too quickly.
By the look on her face, I can tell she doesn’t believe me. “Sure. Though I get what you’re doing. And you’re probably right. You shouldn’t get your hopes up over Whit anyway. It’s such a shame.”
Sylvie’s expression is incredibly sad.
“What’s a shame?” I ask, hating how I always want every single detail I can get about Whit. She mentions his name and I lean in, always eager for more.
“That he doesn’t have a heart.”
I enter my first period class, Mr. Figueroa sitting behind his desk, chatting away with girls, as usual. They always surround his desk before class starts. They flirt with him, batting their eyelashes, laughing too loudly at his jokes, and they’re not that funny. I’ve heard him tell a few and they’re corny.
As usual, I walk right past them, headed for my seat when I hear him call my name.
Slowly I turn, my gaze questioning. He makes a gesture, indicating he wants me to come talk to him, so I approach his desk, while the two girls—they’re not even in our class—stare at me with unmistakable disgust. I don’t bother looking at them, keeping my focus on Figueroa, who’s faintly smiling at me, his expression open. Friendly.
He’s come a long way from that earlier hostility he’d felt at having me forced upon him the first day of school.
“Summer,” he says my name, his tone pleasant. “Do you have a moment?”
I nod. Don’t bother replying. He glances at the girls, sending them a look that sends them out of the classroom without another word. Once we’re alone, he clears his throat, a faint smile curling his lips.
“I really enjoyed the last essay you turned in,” he starts out, his compliment surprising me. “You have a particular way with words that makes everything come to life.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. “Thank you.”
“Honestly? When you were first here, I thought you wouldn’t be able to keep up with this class, but you’ve proven me wrong.” His smile stays in place. “I notice you have a free period after lunch.”
“I do,” I say, frowning slightly. Was he checking up on me? How does he know my schedule?
“I was wondering if you’d be interested in being a TA during that period. I need some extra help organizing assignments and the like. Nothing too strenuous,” he promises with a warm chuckle. “What do you say?”
I want to immediately tell him no, I’m not interested. I don’t really like him, and I definitely thought he didn’t like me either. But I’m guessing this is an opportunity I probably shouldn’t turn away.