Sia (10 page)

The rest of the cafeteria is suddenly hushed as well. People are either staring at me or keeping their eyes glued to their trays of food. That’s when I realize it's not just Stacy.
Everyone’s
afraid of Amber.

“
I’m taking a break from cheerleading,” I decide in that moment. “At least until I can remember better.”

Amber frowns, but her eyes are smiling. “Are you sure? If you give it up now, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to get it back later.”

I shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”

We both jerk around at a sudden crash behind us. A scrawny boy with tousled black hair is sprawling on the floor, face-first in his lunch.

Duke grins, and our table erupts in laughter. Before long, the entire cafeteria is roaring.

I stare in horror, realizing Duke deliberately stuck his foot in the boy’s path. I want to get to my feet, help the kid up, and tell Duke to apologize. But I’m paralyzed.

“
Jeez, loser. First day on the new legs?” Duke sneers.

Kyle, the boy from my class, comes to the kid’s rescue. “Hey, Ben,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Duke and me. He reaches under a nearby chair to retrieve Ben’s carton of milk. “C’mon, man. Our table’s over this way.”

Ben gets to his knees and scrambles to his feet. He glances at us, his eyes dark with misery. He’s completely humiliated.

As I watch the boys walk away, I turn on Duke. “What was
that?
”

Duke wipes tears from his eyes. “Ooh, man. Works every time.”

“
Why would you do that?”

“
Don’t worry about that kid, Sia. He’s nobody,” Amber says. She grins at Stacy, her eyes twinkling with laughter. “Like that guy, remember, Stace?”

“
Oh my God,” Stacy says, her smile wicked. “You mean that band geek with the moon craters on his face? Ew!”

“
I know, right? And what about
her
?” Amber says, pointing deliberately at a dark-haired girl sitting quietly by herself in a corner, reading a book and nibbling on something from a packed lunch.

The girl’s eyes light up with a kind of panic when she spots Amber’s gaze on her, and she looks away.

“
Total goth. She probably carves bats into her arm for fun.”

Stacy hoots with laughter. “I can’t even! You’re so right . . . and so, so funny!”

“
I know,” Amber assures her. “I really am.”

I feel increasingly sick listening to my so-called friends talk, their eyes dancing with malicious laughter. Was I really one of these people? Was I ever such a selfish, cruel person? I get to my feet and carry my tray to a garbage can.

Oblivious to my mood, Amber is already at my side, peeking critically at my meal tray. “See? I knew you didn’t want to eat that stuff.”

“
It wasn’t that,” I mutter. “I just lost my appetite.”

A group of kids cluster by the door of the cafeteria, talking and laughing, inadvertently blocking our exit.

“
Excuse me,” I say quietly. When they don’t acknowledge me, I say it again, a little louder.

“
The ladies want outta here. Step aside, minions,” Duke proclaims, barging through the group, shoving kids to the floor as he goes.

Amber strolls along behind him, coldly superior to everyone around her.

I shuffle along, wedged between them, feeling utterly miserable.

After the three o’clock bell rings, Amber corners me and asks again if I'm coming out to cheerleading practice. I tell her I’m not, then reject Duke’s offer to drive me home. When he starts to argue, I assure him my driver is on his way.

“
I’m just really tired,” I tell him, managing a small smile.

The real reason is that I feel ill. Literally. My head is spinning with questions, and my heart just aches. While I wait for John to pick me up, I sit on a step outside the school. I watch the kids go by. No one stops to say hello to me, and I’m starting to understand why. Then I see Kyle trudging out of the school, shaking his thick brown hair back from his brow. I decide to go talk to him. But he changes direction when he sees me approaching.

“
Wait! Kyle? Is that your name? Kyle?”

He stops but doesn’t turn around.

Undaunted, I run up from behind. “Listen, I just wanted to apologize for Duke in the cafeteria today.”

“
Why? Can’t he take care of that himself?”

“
I guess he can, but I don’t think manners are his strong point.”

Kyle squints at me, trying to read my expression, so I keep my eyes wide open. If he’s looking for dishonesty or cruelty, I’m determined he won’t find any there.

“
I don’t get it,” he says skeptically. “Why would
you
apologize to
me?
”

I shrug. “Because it was wrong of him to be like that.”

“
If you’re gonna apologize on behalf of Duke, you should apologize to Ben, not me.”

“
Um . . . okay, I will.”

After a moment of quiet, Kyle says, “Okay. Thanks.” He sniffs and looks at the ground, obviously uncomfortable. “As long as we’re apologizing, I guess I owe you one, too.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry about yelling at you at the soup kitchen. That
was
you, right?”

I nod.

“
So I guess it was my yelling that made you run into the street, wasn’t it?”

I nod again.

“
Well, I’m really sorry. About all that. I had no idea.”

“
Of course you didn’t. Don’t worry about it.” I look down the street, past Kyle, but I can’t see John and the car yet. I glance down at my nails, still torn and ratty from living homeless. “What were you doing there, anyway?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I volunteer there sometimes.”

“
Oh.”

“
My parents own a bakery nearby. I work there almost every afternoon. When we have day-old bread and stuff, I take it over to them.”

“
You . . . Oh!” I suddenly recall the slice of bread I’d enjoyed just before Kyle yelled at me that day. Soft, homemade, and unforgettable. It brings a smile to my face. “Well, I know from personal experience that they really appreciate that. It’s very generous of you and your family.”

“
It’s the least we can do.” He hesitates. “So you’d been eating there?”

“
Yup. All week. With my friend Carol.”

“
Carol? That older lady? I know her. She’s sweet. Helps a lot of the kids out. I guess she’s kind of a teacher for lost souls, huh?”

“
You could say that,” I agree, remembering my wise friend fondly.

A dark car pulls up to the curb.

I smile with apology. “Sorry, but I have to go. That’s John, here to pick me up. So are we okay?”

“
We?”

“
Yeah. You and me.”

After a second, he returns my smile and holds out a hand. “Sure.”

I step closer so I can shake it, and while I’m there I purposefully inhale the smell Amber had so detested. She’s right. He smells like bread. Banana bread, I think. And cinnamon. Not unpleasant at all.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The inside of the car is almost too cold, the air conditioning harsh on my skin. John, the driver, doesn’t seem to mind because he’s dressed in a suit, but I can’t help shivering.

“
John, would you mind turning down the air conditioning? It’s a little chilly back here.”

He frowns into the rearview mirror. “No problem.”

I lean back in the soft black leather and close my eyes, needing to think. It’s been quite a day. And that is a definite understatement. During those long, slow hours, I learned about the people who had mattered most to me in my previous life. Through those realizations, though, I learned a little about who I had been. As it turns out, I’m not particularly proud of that person.

Certain moments from the past twenty-four hours stand out in my mind: the flash of surprise in Beatriz’s eyes when I’d thanked her for something, Amber’s ability to so easily dismiss someone like Kyle as a “nobody,” Duke’s belly laugh when he’d dumped Ben onto the floor.

I was once a part of all of that—a big part, apparently, since the rest of them cluster around me like moths to a flame. I’m so ashamed. A tear clears a path through the makeup Stacy so lovingly painted on me, and a sense of loss creeps through me.

Have I been cruel and self-centered my whole life?

Have I wasted all my years behaving like a spoiled brat?

“
John,” I say, leaning forward, “could you please take me to the soup kitchen? I want to stop in there. Maybe a few other places, too. I need to find a friend of mine.”

“
Sorry,” he replies. “I’m not allowed to take you there.”

What? I'm not
allowed
to go?

“
But my friend might be worried about me,” I say. “I never got to tell her where I was going. She probably thinks I’d been hurt or something. Please?”

He shakes his head. “No can do. Your parents specifically told me no soup kitchen, no homeless places, and nowhere that might be dangerous.”

“
That makes no sense!” I exclaim. “How can they worry about me
now
? I spent an entire week living on the street, and I did just fine.”

“
Well, you
were
hit by a car . . . ”

“
Okay. Other than that, though, I was fine.” I puff out a breath and cross my arms, trying not to remember Bill’s awful proposition by the food truck, the terror of having to live under a bridge, and the gang beating up Patch. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“
I know that, Miss Holloway. But I’m not the one who made the rules. Sorry.”

The rest of the drive is silent, with me fuming, staring out the window at the mansions and exotic cars. John says nothing more.

When we get home, I look for Beatriz and find her polishing silver in the kitchen. She turns and smiles, but I’m in no mood for small talk.

“
Where are my parents?”

Her smile drops into a frown. “Busy, Miss Holloway.”

“
Of course they’re busy. They’re always busy. But
where
are they? I need their permission to go downtown to see my friend Carol.”

“
Your mother is in her room,” Beatriz says, concentrating on her work. “And Mr. Holloway won’t be back until later. He says he has some late meetings tonight.”

I turn to go. “Fine. I’ll talk with her.”

“
I wouldn’t suggest that,” she says quickly. “Today’s not a good day,
mija
. Your mother don’t feel so good. Wait until tomorrow,
sì?
”

I frown. “Not a good day?”

“
No.” She sets the silver down and turns her eyes on me.

She looks so tired that I’m tempted to give her a hug, but I know that isn’t acceptable around here. Still, seeing her like this takes some of the wind from my sails. What right do I have to take out my anger on anyone, let alone Beatriz?

“
Can I help you make dinner?”

Beatriz’s expression goes completely blank. It takes a moment before she can reply. “No,
graçias
. You must be tired. This was a hard day for you, no? Why don’t you go to your room and get some rest?”

“
I’m not that tired.”

The maid’s eyes dart sideways, as if she’s concerned.

About what? About getting caught talking with me? Could it possibly be that bad?

“
Sure you are. Don’t worry, Miss Holloway. I’m just going to cut up some vegetables and put them in to stew for a few hours.”

“
Well, I can cut vegetables.” When Beatriz doesn’t say anything, I make up my mind. I pick up a knife and start chopping carrots.

Behind me, Beatriz quietly comes to my side. She catches the knife and shows me a better angle to chop. “You know what? I would love your help,” she says.

For the first time in a long time, I feel useful. Using my hands on something other than makeup and texting seems to have a calming effect on me, and I find I want to talk.

“
How long have you worked here, Beatriz?” I ask.

She slices onions expertly, the blade of her knife moving so quickly, I can hardly see it. “Oh, I came here from Mexico many years ago. When you were just a little
niña
.”