Sia (18 page)

I puff out a breath. “I don’t actually think Amber would be so keen on welcoming me back anyway.”

Stacy glances up quickly. “Of course she would!”

“
Not if she knew what was going on in my house. Amber’s all about the fame and fortune and reputation, right? Well, I hate to burst everyone’s bubble, but my family’s not exactly rolling in cash right now. We’re actually in some serious trouble.”

Stacy gasps and covers her mouth. “Oh my God. Do you think you’ll have to move to the
Valley?
”

“
Possibly. Dad’s hoping for a deal soon, but if that doesn’t happen, we just don’t know. But I’m okay with it. Money isn’t everything. My family is what I care about.”

Stacy’s expression is skeptical. “Really?”

“
Yep.”

“
Hmm.” She considers my words for a few moments. When she speaks again, she sounds apologetic. “Can I come back and see you sometime? Like, even if you’re in the Valley? I really miss you, Sia.”

She’s not a bad person. She really isn’t. Stacy’s just used to being with Amber and me, being one of the in-crowd girls. I can’t blame her. I simply hope that she sees what I’m doing and maybe learns from it.

“
I’d like that, Stace. I miss you, too.”

“
Can we . . . ” She twists her mouth to one side.

I raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“
Um, you know, if Amber finds out that I—”

I smile, nodding. “Of course I’ll keep it a secret, Stacy. She’ll never know you’ve been here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

All day Sunday, I watch news stories about the earthquake. It seems every channel is covering the story. Images of destruction and loss take over the Internet. With every close-up of the chaos and tragedy, I realize just how lucky my family and I are. The earthquake didn’t cause much damage in Los Angeles, but San Francisco was shaken apart. Countless homes have been destroyed, bridges have collapsed, and power is out in thousands of buildings all over the city. Over thirty people have died, and thousands are homeless. The Red Cross is mentioned continuously; they are in serious need of help and volunteers.

On Monday morning, the classrooms and hallways are abuzz with chatter about the quake.

Mr. Barrow dedicates the entire class time to talking about the tragedy. He shows some of the pictures I’ve already seen and discusses the number of people who are now homeless.

“
Kyle has decided to coordinate a fundraiser to help the victims,” Mr. Barrow says halfway through class.

Everyone turns to look at Kyle, who turns red under the hot glare of his classmates’ scrutiny.

“
Kyle will be in the courtyard every day at lunch, signing up volunteers. I encourage you all to help.”

There is a bit of whispering, murmuring, and giggling.

When the talk dies down, Mr. Barrow returns to business. “Now, let’s talk about the actual physical earthquake and what might have caused it. Does anyone have any ideas to contribute?” Mr. Barrow posts scientific photos and diagrams.

“
The San Andreas fault, right?” asks one kid.

Others put up their hands and soon, a discussion fills the room. But not everyone is paying attention.

“
Figures,” I hear Amber whisper to Stacy. “They pick the lowest person on the social scale for this.”

“
I know, right?” Stacy whispers back. “Who’s going to want to help if that dweeb’s involved?”

I clear my throat.

Stacy glances back. When she meets my glare, her expression is guilty.

Stacy feels she needs to appease Amber. I get that. I really do, but still. Stacy’s fickleness angers me. It’s amazing how she can say one thing when we’re alone, then say the opposite around with Amber. It just affirms that I’ve made the right choice to distance myself from them.

I glance a few rows over and realize Kyle has probably heard the girls talking about him. He isn’t taking part in the lesson. His jaw is clenched, and he won’t even look at me.

Then it hits me.

This fundraiser! It’s that opportunity Carol was talking about. This is a chance to prove myself to the school and to myself. Helping out with the fundraiser could be the first step in my new journey.

When class finishes, I find Kyle in the hallway and corner him. He looks anywhere but at me. He’s clearly annoyed by my presence, but I don’t care. I know what I have to do. “I think your fundraiser’s a fantastic idea, Kyle. I want to get involved.”

“
I don’t know, Sia,” he says, finally meeting my eyes. “It’s going to be a lot of work.”

I shrug. “I know.”

“
Won’t that interfere with your busy social life?” His lip curls, almost into a sneer.

I bristle. “Maybe you missed the newsflash, but I don’t
have
a social life. No friends, no boyfriend, and I quit cheerleading. So no, I don’t think it’ll ‘interfere.’”

Kyle still looks doubtful. “I don’t know.”

“
Come on. I’ll work harder than anyone else. If I don’t pull my weight, you can fire me. Deal?”

He sighs, closing his eyes in defeat. “Fine. I need help, so I guess I’ll take it where I can get it.”

“
Gee, Kyle. Don’t worry about minding your manners around me,” I say with sarcasm. “How many volunteers do you have so far?”

Kyle’s scowl is clearly meant to scare me off. When I don’t move, he glances critically at his binder. “As of right now, just you.”

“
Don’t worry,” I tell him, bringing back my smile. “More will join. I’ll help with that, too.”

“
How? You just told me you don’t have any friends.”

I look away and sigh. “I’ll figure it out. I can be quite resourceful when I have to be.”

His expression finally softens, and I wonder if he’s remembering back to my story of living on the streets. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I guess so.”

At lunchtime, Kyle and I drag a picnic table to the front of the school. I grab some supplies from the art teacher and create a poster encouraging people to volunteer. After we set the poster up, we wait, wait, and wait some more. By the end of lunch, only Kyle’s friends Ben, Tiff, and Roberta have signed up.

The only attention I get is a continuous trail of dirty looks from Amber and the other cheerleaders. “I think I’m scaring off possible volunteers,” I admit sadly.

Kyle is halfway through a sandwich. “Why do you say that?” he asks.

“
Ever since I defied Amber, I’ve been blacklisted. None of the cheerleaders will associate with me. And dumping Duke sure didn’t earn me any points with the football team.”

Kyle shakes his head and swallows what he’s been chewing. “That has nothing to do with it.”

“
No?”

“
Uh-uh. It’s
them
. They’re incapable of thinking about anyone other than themselves. Always have been, always will be.” He offers me a smile. “So there’s no need to beat yourself up about it.”

I squint at him, my mouth twisted into a smirk. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

He shrugs. “Just being honest.”

I let my eyes travel the length of the field, touching on various groups clustered all over the place. Each clique, I know, has its own little culture, its own set of rules. What makes my old group feel superior to everyone else?

“
Cookie? Oatmeal chocolate chip,” Kyle asks, holding one out.

I grin, trying not to let him see how pleased I am that he even offered. I like that he’s starting to accept me; at least that’s how I choose to interpret his “There’s no need to beat yourself up” comment. “I’ll never turn down a cookie from BooBoo’s. Thanks.” It’s soft and delicious, exactly as I knew it would be. It reminds me of that night when I’d secretly sniffed at his sweater, when I’d thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of wrapping my arms around his waist as we sped through the city. The wind had been cold on my face, but his body had been warm.

“
What?” he says, frowning.

Oops. Caught me
. “Sorry,” I say, smiling shyly. “Daydreaming. Must be this cookie.”

He hands me another without asking. His expression says his mind is back on the project. “Well, anyway, I guess we can manage with just the five of us.”

A thought comes to me. “You know what? I think I’d do better if I tried to recruit help outside of the school.”

“
Like where?”

“
Maybe around my neighborhood.”

Kyle raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Sia. Those are some pretty rich, lazy people out there. I don’t think many will want to lift a finger. Might break their nails or smudge their diamonds, ya know.”

“
As long as they lift it long enough to write a check,” I say smugly.

He chuckles. “True enough. And then there’s your parents.”

“
Oh, no. I can’t ask them. They’re kind of struggling right now.”

Kyle looks surprised. “Really?”

I nod. “I think I’ll start in my neighborhood today after school. The sooner the better, right? After all, I have to catch them when I can. I have no idea how much longer we’ll be living there.”

“
It’s
that
bad?”

My smile wavers but fights its way back. “We’ll be fine. Let’s just focus on the fundraising for now.”

“
Yeah, okay,” Kyle says thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t exactly canvas my neighborhood—not a lot of money around there—but I could visit businesses, maybe. Banks, restaurants, shops.”

“
Good idea.”

Kyle nods. “I’ll get the rest of our team to help me. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

I love that he says things like “our” team and “we’ll cover more ground.” Such little things, but they mean so much to me. Those words mean I am being accepted, that I am starting to belong somewhere and won’t have to go on feeling so alone.

And of course, there is Kyle. The fact that he’s part of that “we” is a definite bonus.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

After lunch, we lug the bulky table back inside and get back to class. I have trouble concentrating on what the teachers are saying, though. I’m anxious to get out and see what I can do with my neighbors. After school, John drives me home, and I run inside. Beatriz has just made a quiche, and it smells amazing.

“
Hungry, Sia?”

“
Starved.”

Beatriz laughs. “I can tell. Didn’t you have any lunch?”

We sit together. I tell her about my day, about the plan Kyle and I have been working on.

“
Kyle? The cute boy with the motorcycle?”

I blush furiously. “How’d you guess?”

“
Just the way you look when you say his name,” Beatriz says with a giggle. She raises an eyebrow. “You have good taste in men.”

Half of my neighborhood is friendly and receptive when I come to their doors, asking for donations for the Red Cross. Yes, they’re wealthy, but Kyle was wrong. They’re actually happy to help out. Just because someone is better off financially doesn’t necessarily make them selfish. I’m learning that, and I’m determined to show Kyle that. Some of my neighbors write checks. Others ask if I can stop by the next day so they can have food and clothing donations ready. I hum to myself as I reach a house a block away from my own. I’ve collected over $800 in checks all by myself, and I’ve only been out an hour. Kyle is going to be pleased.

I ring the next door.

A slender woman with jet black hair answers, her doe-like eyes set in a perfect white complexion. When I’d asked Beatriz about the neighborhood, she had mentioned this woman. She’s a retired supermodel from Romania.

“
Hi. I’m Sia Holloway,” I say. “I’m a student at Beverly Hills High. My school’s doing a fundraiser to help victims of the San Francisco earthquake. And I was wondering if you’d like to make a donation.”

“
Oh yes. I see this on television. Terrible things, earthquakes. Terrible,” the woman says, her eyes widening further. I can’t help but catch the mysterious, captivating curl of her accent winding through the words. “I am Alyz. Come in, Sia.”

The entrance hall is wide open, the walls a rich, strident burgundy. The furniture is modern and leather, black and gold being the prevalent theme. Across the room, a water fountain bubbles, calming and almost as beautiful as its owner.

I step inside. “Yes, it caused a lot of damage. Lots of people are in need.”

Alyz hangs her head. Her expression is hopeless. “So many people suffer everywhere. I know this. I am very involved in charity work.”

“
That’s wonderful,” I say. “Can we count on your support?”