Trust(13)

“I’m not going back there.”

“What?” Mom halted, glaring at me across the roof of her sedan.

“I never fit in and I never will,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Especially after this. That place is survival of the richest—you have no idea what they’re like. Kara will be out to make my life a misery and I’m not up for it.”

“Honey—”

“I’m not going back,” I said, voice clear. No doubt, no hesitation. My boundaries were all too clear to me these days. “I’ll go to the local high school instead.”

Mom frowned. “No. You won’t.”

I felt like shit fighting with her. Usually, we made big decisions together. Being a single parent, having to drop out of college to have me, Mom hadn’t had it easy. She’d sacrificed. Grandma eventually came around and helped out, but it took time. Time during which Mom was utterly and completely alone. I didn’t like to make things difficult for her. This time, however, I couldn’t compromise. I couldn’t back down. More than enough monsters were already in my head, feasting on my sanity, feeding my insecurities. Kara and co were officially too much.

“Edie, this is your education we’re talking about,” she said imploringly. “Your future.”

“I know. And I can learn as well at the local school as I can at that place.” I leaned against the car, resting my hands on top. “Better probably. Grandma will get over it.”

“I’ll talk to the principal about keeping this girl away from you. I’ll make sure from now on you’re protected.”

“That’s a nice idea, but it’s not going to work, Mom.”

“I’ll damn well make it work.”

I gave her a most dubious look.

“Honey, she will not bother you again. I promise. But also, think about it this way. There’s going to be people you don’t get along with wherever you go. It’s an unfortunate part of life, having to share the planet with a billion or so others,” she said. “People just can be jerks. I know you’ve been through a lot, more than I can possibly understand. But running away every time there’s conflict isn’t the answer. It sets a very concerning precedent for you.”

“I get what you’re saying,” I said. “I do. But there are limits, Mom, and daily persecution kind of goes beyond mine.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Don’t you think this is just going to add to how unsettled everything has been for you lately?”

“No.”

Silence.

“Look, just . . . let’s talk to the principal first. See if something can’t be done.” Mom’s brows almost met in the middle. “You’re in your senior year, Edie. Changing schools now would be a huge disruption.”

“No, Mom,” I said, tone sharper than I’d intended. “Nearly getting killed was a huge disruption. Changing schools would be a relief.”

For a long moment, she just looked at me. Then she slipped on her sunglasses, hiding all of the frustration and worry in her eyes. “Let’s talk about it at home.”

I shrugged, feeling bad that I would have to overrule her. As weird as it sounds, part of me was glad I felt bad about it.

To my ears, Georgia, Kara, and the principal sounded like they lived in an echo chamber. They could talk, but none of it really mattered. I knew what mattered now. What was life and death. Everything else was just bullshit everyday details.

But my mom still mattered. I clung to that.





The local public high school had a lot more students than my former private one. Hopefully this would give me more opportunities to blend in and hide. Plus, three weeks had gone by since the Drop Stop, so it was old news. People had to have moved on by now. At least, no one seemed to be paying me any attention as I wandered down a hallway, map, class schedule, and other assorted paperwork in hand.

“Edie!” a voice yelled. “Edie?”

Great. I turned to find a girl running after me like her ass was on fire.

“You were supposed to wait at the office for me,” she said, stopping to catch her breath. She was about my age, Asian, pretty. “We’ve got first class together. I’ll show you where to find it. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Right.” I just looked at her.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m Hang.” She waved her hand in my face, giving me a smile. “Let’s go.”

I willed my feet to keep going when we passed a memorial to Isaac, the kid who’d died. So he’d gone to school here. Guess it made sense, if I’d stopped to think about it for a moment. There were plenty of pictures, poems, three-week-old wilting flowers, and a football jersey. It all told a story of tears and pain. Isaac had been missed and that was something. Wonder what my old school would have done if I’d died. I highly doubt the bulk of the student body would have cared. It’s a strange thing, though, coming face to face with your own mortality.

If someone your own age could die, then what’s saving you?

My school probably would have set up something tastefully fake. This didn’t look fake. It reeked of loss and pain.

That fucking meth-head. Hate for him ate me alive. Isaac didn’t deserve to die. They’d been crazy brave trying to save me, him and John.

Shit. Isaac would have had a funeral. The kid died helping to save my life and I didn’t even go to his funeral. I’d been too wrapped up in my own self, trying not to think about the Drop Stop and what had happened. The kid behind the counter, too. He’d be buried or cremated by now. Meanwhile, I was alive and doing what? I’d gotten off easy. Just some scars and nightmares, both of which would fade.