Sia (9 page)

I can’t help smiling at her. She’s adorable.

We gather in the bathroom, where the walls echo with shrill exclamations.

Stacy takes charge, leads me to a chair, and tells me to sit. “Close your eyes,” she says before applying the basics.

“
Stacy, you don’t have to trouble yourself. Really.”

“
Don’t worry about it, hon. You know I—” She straightens, looking horrified. “I’m so sorry! I totally forgot that you don’t know anything! My parents are makeup artists. Cool, huh? They do makeup for
all
the stars, and they taught me everything they know. You’re in good hands.”

“
Stacy’s the best,” says the girl Amber had introduced earlier. She’s chewing a pink wad of gum with enthusiasm, popping it with annoying regularity.

What’s her name again? I grope around in my mind for it, but it’s nowhere to be found.

Fortunately, Stacy saves the day. “Thanks, Kim.”

A flat iron magically appears from Kim’s bag, and she begins twisting my hair into fat ringlets. When she’s done, she sprays a thick cloud of product around my head.

I touch a crispy curl skeptically, but my stylist smacks my hand away.

“
Don’t touch.” She adjusts my bangs. “I'm going to make you look fierce.”

“
Here. Slide these on,” Amber says, pulling a pair of sparkling earrings and bangles from her purse. “Rock em’, girl! They’re Gucci.” She glances at her watch. “Oh, I gotta go.”

“
Look way up,” Stacy says, applying mascara to my lower lashes. “That’s right.”

I can’t see what’s going on, but I hear the bathroom door creak closed behind Amber. Craving some kind of normalcy amongst the flurry of activity, I clear my throat. “So I had an interesting talk with Duke yesterday. He told me about how we started dating. He seems like such a sweet guy . . . and a hero, too. He saved me from drowning.”

Stacy giggles. “I remember that. We played him good!”

“
Played him? What do you mean?”

“
Well, you weren’t
really
drowning, silly. It was all an act. And, girl, it worked like a charm. You really should be an actress.”

My mouth drops. “So that was all a lie?”

“
Sort of. It was your idea. I mean, you
had
to have him. Duke Holton was the hottest, most popular guy in school. When Kim found out he was going to ask Amber out, she told us, and you took action—with my help, of course.”

It was all planned? I can’t believe this. Could I have really done something that manipulative? “Does Amber know any of this?” I ask.

“
Let’s hope not,” Stacy says.

Kim nods. “Yeah, I wanna be alive for graduation.”

“
Anyway, who cares?” Stacy exclaims, her brown eyes gleaming. “You two were meant to be together, despite how your relationship began. You both totally rule the school, Sia. You’re like Ken and Barbie. Only way cooler, you know?”

“
Yeah,” Kim says. “Your love is eternal and magical, on a Romeo and Juliet level. Right, Stace?”

“
Sooo magical,” Stacy sighs. “And he’s going to love seeing you like this. Hold up. . . ” She frowns at my white t-shirt, then tugs it out of my waistband. She knots the bottom so it ties halfway up my torso, which makes Stacy smile and me blush. She squats, twists off the offending sneakers, and slides the four-inch heels onto my bare feet. “There. Much better. Okay. Well, we’d better head to history class or Mr. Barrow will lose it again.” She looks at Kim, and both of them giggle. “Though you have to admit, it’s pretty entertaining when it happens.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mr. Barrow is fairly young and handsome, with intelligent eyes that study each student as we come in. “Ah, Miss Holloway,” he says when I enter the room. “Are we all recovered then?”

“
Mr. Barrow,” Stacy says, walking to his desk with me. “She can’t remember anything.”

“
So I hear.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Really?”

“
Really.”

“
Hmm. This could be interesting,” he muses, albeit not unkindly. “All right. Let’s see what we can do, shall we? Take your seat. It’s the one beside Amber.”

Amber gives me a smug smile when I settle in beside her. “The girls did a good job on you. You look hot,” she says.

I don’t feel hot. I feel silly, like a clown wearing too much makeup, with funny clown shoes to match. And I know everyone is staring at me, waiting for me to either be myself—whoever that is—or to make a huge mistake and become the laughingstock of the school.

“
History is so boring,” Amber mutters as Mr. Barrow gets to his feet. “At least I’ve got a nice view of Mr. Barrow’s tight butt. Makes this hellish class more bearable.”

Now
I feel hot, but not in a good way. Blood rushes into my cheeks and I look anywhere but at Mr. Barrow’s backside. Fortunately, he’s facing the class, so I can watch his face instead. It’s awkward, because I’m also doing everything I can to avoid looking at Amber’s face. The reality that I lied to Duke and effectively stole him from Amber makes me feel awful, even if she doesn’t know.

“
Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, addressing the room. “If I could have your attention, please.” He waits for the volume to go down. “I’m assuming everyone knows about Sia’s condition. It’s a tough time for her. No one really knows when she might regain her memory.”

My embarrassment stretches on into eternity. I stare at my teacher without blinking, well aware that every eye in the room is now on me.

“
So I’m asking that you all help Sia through this difficult time. Can I get a commitment on that?”

Scattered sounds of assent bubble up around the room, some more positive than others.

“
Good,” Mr. Barrow says. “Now, on to history! Yesterday we were discussing . . . ”

Slowly, my pulse returns to normal and my blush fades as class continues without me. It’s a strange, uncomfortable sensation, being in the spotlight like that. I know I need to figure out my place again, get back into the routine, but I’m painfully self-conscious, which only makes things harder. Perhaps returning to school so quickly wasn't the best idea.

When class is over, Mr. Barrow tucks his books under one arm and leaves the room quickly. The students are slower, packing up their things and shuffling toward the exit.

Amber is standing by her desk, watching everyone. As soon as she figures she can get everyone’s attention, she leads me to the front of the room and clamps her hands on my shoulders.

Blood surges back into my face, and I wonder if it's possible to pass out from sheer embarrassment.

“
Attention, everybody!” Amber announces. “Listen up. You all know what’s going on with Sia.” Her tone drops threateningly. “Treat her right . . . or you’ll answer to me. Understood?”

I close my eyes. This whole experience is mortifying. I want to disappear, to melt into the floor. No one says anything, but I hear them quickly shuffle out of the room.

When I can bear to open my eyes again, I see a familiar face, and I stare, incredulous. Standing by a desk in the back row is the boy from the soup kitchen. The one who had yelled at me before I was hit by the car. He is staring back at me, his expression soft. Remorseful? Does he actually feel bad about how he behaved that day?

“
Who’s that?” I whisper to Amber.

The boy slings his pack over his shoulder and works his way up the aisle. Amber glances at him and shrugs. “Kyle Parker. He's just some loser. And he always smells like . . . ” She wrinkles her nose. “Bread.”

He doesn’t look like a loser to me. No, he isn’t wearing designer clothes, and his old backpack is patched with pictures of comic book heroes. But he seems normal enough. Who is he? Why was he so mean to me? From Amber’s description, we obviously don’t hang around in the same circles, so it makes no sense for him to hold anything against me.

When he reaches the front of the room where Amber and I are still standing with a few other girls, he hesitates. He looks like he wants to say something, but Amber rolls her eyes and drags me away.

“
Come on, Sia. Algebra’s next, and we all
soooo
love algebra, don’t we?”

The other girls giggle, then follow us into the hallway. Amber hooks her arm through mine, and Stacy does the same on my other side. We stride purposefully down the corridor as if we’re modeling on a catwalk. It’s a ridiculous feeling. I try to untangle myself, but I’m anchored between the girls. I feel a rush of relief when we arrive and the girls are forced to let go.

As soon as I step into the room, Duke is there beside me. He looks extremely handsome, with his hair styled expertly, his clothes the peak of fashion. The guy radiates masculinity, and I have to put in some effort not to stare.

“
Hey, babe. You look hot. Everyone treating you good?” he asks.

I nod and can’t help smirking. “Yeah. Amber had, uh, a
heartful
talk with our class about that.”

“
That’s our Amber,” Duke says with a chuckle.

A couple of other guys, football players from the size of them, come in behind me. “Hey, Sia,” they say as they walk past. “Good to see you.”

Duke’s arm is instantly around me and I’m squeezed tight against his side. He kisses me with gusto, which takes me by surprise.

What’s with the sudden macho display? I push my hand against his chest, needing air, and scowl up at him. “Didn’t you tell me you’d give me all the time I need?” I hiss, then turn and smile vaguely at the others. “Hey,” I say to them.

When the bell rings at the end of algebra, it’s time for lunch. The class packs up and gets out fast. Most of the students quickly flood out into the wide hallway, making out by the lockers, slamming their locker doors, or hurrying toward the cafeteria for lunch.

The cafeteria reeks of fried food and chicken soup, a smell that transports me back to my time with Carol. I look up at Duke, wondering how he’d react if I told him about my time on the street. I so want to share my story with someone, but he misinterprets my expression.

“
Don’t worry, babe. You’ll be fine. Come on. Let’s get lunch.”

I scan the counter, looking over all the choices, and decide on a burger with fries. I smile at the heavyset, middle-aged woman behind the counter. Her eyes carry the look of someone who is constantly worn out. “Thanks,” I say.

The woman frowns at me.

Kind of a weird reaction . . . but everything’s weird lately. I have to try not to be too paranoid.

After paying for the meal, I turn to find my friends. Stacy’s standing by a table in the center of the room, and she excitedly waves me over.

“
Excuse me,” I murmur, cutting between tables. Some of the people I pass glance up with angry glares. I look away quickly. What had I done to make them angry?

Two seats are left open between Stacy and Amber. Duke pulls out one for me and sits beside me on the other.

“
So?” Stacy asks. “What do you think? How does it feel to be back?”

“
I don’t really know,” I admit. “Weird.”

“
What is
that?
” Amber demands, staring at my tray.

I jerk upright, scared there’s a spider or something. But it’s just my lunch. “What?”

Amber points at my burger and fries. Her face twists up, as if the sight of it is revolting to her. “That. What is
that?
”

“
My burger, you mean?”

Amber puffs out her breath with disgust. “
We
don’t eat that garbage, Sia. No fried food, no carbs.
We
take care of our bodies. We eat salads.”

Stacy seems to think this is obvious. She nods earnestly and pops a slice of radish into her mouth.

I frown. “But I don’t want a salad.”

“
You do,” Amber informs me. “You just don’t realize it. Take that back.”

“
I don’t want a salad,” I repeat, annoyed. “I want this.”

Amber blinks, taken aback, then does a little sniff through her nose. “Whatever,” she snaps. “Poison your body if you want to.”

“
God, Amber, lay off,” Duke chips in. “Sia can eat whatever she wants.”

Amber’s eyes turn instantly to blue ice, and her smile is just as hard. She isn’t used to being contradicted. She sits a little taller and stabs a fork into her salad. “Of course she can. Whatever. It’s just that fat cheerleaders are harder to throw—and we do have practice this afternoon.”

Stacy glances between Amber and me, her eyes huge. Now I see her more as she really is. Sweet and bubbly, sure, but also meek and clearly Amber’s sidekick. From the startled look in her eyes, I can tell she’s afraid of Amber.