Part 2 (1/2)

Please don't do this.

”Nadine,'” he reads, his voice perfectly clear. I try to stop myself from listening to focus on burying my head in my hands and blocking out the rest of the cla.s.s, but it doesn't matter. ”'I miss you! How's Ashmore? How's Elise? Tell me everything.

”I've already met some people, which I know is hard to believe. Reagan Donovan doesn't make friends-Reagan hides in the corner and plays City of Ages.'”

Oh G.o.d. I'd already forgotten I wrote part. So much for anyone here ever thinking I'm cool enough to hang out with. And the worst part is still coming.

”Not sure what you'd make of Fairview. It's a really pretty town, and the people seem nice. The news crew when we got here was only the tip of the iceberg. Everyone at the high school is obsessed with us. They know our birth order. They know who our parents are. They care way...'” Mr. Floren pauses. The entire room is perfectly still and quiet. ”Well I think that's enough.”

My heart is racing, and my fingers clutch the side of the desk. My eyes are glued to the whiteboard behind the teacher's head. Is it over now?

No one is speaking. I can feel them all looking at me.

I have to do something, so I move my head and make eye contact with the girl across the aisle from me. Then the girl beside her. I don't need to look any farther. No one is watching me with curiosity or wonder anymore. Now I can't tell what they're thinking. I can't bring myself to make eye contact with Erik. I can't bear to see what he thinks of me now.

Everything is ruined.

My eyes settle on Mr. Floren as he's closing my notebook. He won't look back at me. Maybe he realizes what a colossal d.i.c.k he has been, mortifying the new girl on her first day. Maybe he'll look back on this moment for the rest of his life and remember my face. But it doesn't matter; the damage is done.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

I fumble for my bag as every nerve in my body screams, convinced I'm going to die at any moment. My mind is too focused on getting the h.e.l.l out of there to listen.

Fight or flight... I'll choose flight every time.

My chest constricts as soon as I reach the hallway and I break into a run to get some distance from that cla.s.sroom. I can feel sweat dripping down the side of my face even though I'm s.h.i.+vering. Getting free of the room only does so much to calm me. There's no taking back what just happened.

I'm alone for now. How long until the next bell rings? I don't want anyone else to see me like this, but I sure as h.e.l.l can't go back to cla.s.s. I can't think clearly or do anything besides relive the last few minutes.

Heat rises in my cheeks again as I gasp for a much-needed breath. For almost a full minute, all of my effort goes to making myself inhale and exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out.

Breathe, Reagan. Keep breathing. My body struggles to listen to anything I'm telling it to do.

I can't go back in there. Ever. Those people hate me now-h.e.l.l, they'll all probably tell their friends and then everyone at this school will hate me and my sisters. Stuck up, self-involved-I can hear the whispers already.

I won't be returning to that science cla.s.s, so what's Plan B? Coming up with something to do next helps my heart rate to slow back down. I'm starting to feel like a person again. Barely.

More specifically, I'm remembering that I'm a person who knows where the guidance office is.

”Excuse me,” I say to the impossibly pet.i.te lady manning the desk when I get to the administration offices. In the distance, I hear the bell signaling the end of fourth period. ”I need to drop a cla.s.s.”

”We don't rearrange schedules once the school year has started,” she responds, her voice grainy, without even looking up at me. She must get these kinds of requests all the time.

d.a.m.n it. No. At Ashmore, they could switch cla.s.ses around for up to two weeks after a new semester started. They have to be able to do something for me.

”Please...” I say. I have nothing more to add. I'm willing to beg if I have to.

At last, she looks up. I don't know if it's the desperation in my voice or the Donovan-ness of my face that makes her take me seriously, but she lets me in to see the next available counselor. Within minutes, I'm free of Mr. Floren and soph.o.m.ore biology.

Unfortunately, I know that the glares and whispers will follow me anyway. If only there was a way to transfer right out of this school.

I don't bother going to my last cla.s.s of the day. Fifth period has already started by the time I finish dropping biology and picking up... drama cla.s.s. Oh G.o.d, did that really happen too? I can't even think about that right now. That will be tomorrow's nightmare.

The last thing I need is to barge in late in the middle of cla.s.s. With my luck, everyone from that bio cla.s.s also has math fifth period and I'll be surrounded by familiar, judging faces as soon as I get in the room.

Rhiannon texts me within ten minutes, asking where I am. I'm surprised she hasn't already heard what happened. I tell her that I'm not feeling well and going home early so they won't wait at the end of the day. While I'm walking, my phone buzzes with new messages, but I don't bother to look. I have nothing to say for myself right now, and there's nothing they can tell me that will make this any better. They might even hate me too if people end up judging them for the fact that they're sisters with a socially inept moron.

The walk home takes me twice as long as it probably should since I have to turn around three different times. It's a small town, but I still don't know my way around and so many of the houses look similar. Thankfully, Dad isn't home when I get there. Otherwise I'd have had to offer up some sort of explanation about what I'm doing home already. Instead, I slink up to my room, crawl into bed, pull the covers up over my head, and wait for the world to end.

Chapter 4.

”Hey. I brought you some dinner.” Rhiannon slips into our bedroom and closes the door behind her.

None of my sisters have been up to see me since the school day ended. Which means they all heard what happened and they get I'd rather be left alone. And I have been for the last five hours-playing as Kinsey, my level-seventy Wood Elf Witch. Being her makes it a little easier to forget about being me. At this point, I wish I could step through the screen and stop being myself entirely. I did tell Nadine all about what happened when she logged on too, failing miserable to laugh the whole thing off before bringing myself to tears all over again as I gave her the play by play of everything that happened.

At least I didn't have to sit through dinner and my parents asking all of us a million questions about our first day. How we like it, what our teachers are like, and what we think of the other students.

It's awful, the teachers are miserable old a.s.sholes, and everyone hates me. Not exactly the report they were looking for, but it's the best one I've got.

”Thanks,” I say before pus.h.i.+ng my keyboard out of the way to make room for my plate.

I expect Rhiannon to put the food down and leave me to my solitude, but instead, she sits down on the bed beside me.

”Not really in the mood to chat.” I keep my face purposefully composed, but Rhiannon doesn't even seem to notice. She stays put, sitting and waiting for me to crack first. ”Seriously. I a.s.sume you heard about the note in Biology, and I don't want to talk about it. At all. Ever. I'm an idiot.”

”It's not that bad, Ray.”

”Not that bad? I insulted everyone who has been remotely nice or interested in us-publicly. I didn't just permanently kill my own social life in Fairview, but now everyone probably figures we're all sn.o.bs who think we're a big deal and the center of the universe. Best first impression ever.”

”Okay. It sucks. Maybe we could have saved the theatrics until everyone got to know us all a little better, but something like this was bound to happen with people watching us like this. And to h.e.l.l with anyone who says you're full of s.h.i.+t and that no one cares about the Fairview Four, because they are watching us that closely and it is creepy. But you probably didn't need to say it out loud.”

”Thanks,” I mumble. ”I feel much better now.”

”Let me finish. Because I promise, everyone will get over it. Probably faster than you'd think. This is the same old drama that happened at Ashmore, but now, you're the one getting the brunt of it.”

”Except everyone in Fairview was already watching our every move. Now, everyone in that cla.s.s is at home, telling their parents what happened. And then they'll tell their friends, who will tell the people they work with, and then everyone in town will a.s.sume we're awful and Mom will lose her job and...” I've run out of steam with this particular worst-case scenario, but there are a dozen more I've been playing through in my head.

”You might be overthinking this,” Rhiannon says without a hint of a smile in her expression.

And for the first time today, I consider that I am. Rhi isn't one to try to make people feel better. She tells you what is on her mind and doesn't waste time pulling punches. Sarcasm is a different story, but there's never any question of what Rhiannon is trying to say. At least until recently.

”Really? You don't think people will still be talking about this-about me-tomorrow?”

”Oh, no, they totally will be. But the day after that, a few less people will be talking about that, and a week later, no one will even care anymore. It's cliche, but it's cliche for a reason. As for Mom, they begged her to take this job. They aren't going to take it back over some high school drama.”