Читать книгу The Disappearance Of Sloane Sullivan - Gia Cribbs - Страница 10
ОглавлениеI surveyed the cafeteria. Hundreds of voices floated through the air, wrapping around me like a cocoon. This was normally the part of my first day where I’d hang back and observe so I could find the perfect group to join: the one not too big and not too small; not overly popular, but not outsiders; not so involved in school activities as to draw attention to themselves, yet not so anti-school they stood out. Then I’d emerge from my cocoon as the girl I was going to be. The type of girl that, no matter who she was, would steer clear of anyone who looked at her with even the tiniest hint of familiarity. But this time was different.
This time I had a First Day Buddy who swore eating lunch together was a nonnegotiable part of the First Day Buddy contract. Which meant this time I’d be sitting with the only person in almost six years who knew the real me.
I eyed the table of artsy-looking kids across the room and sighed. They were laughing and teasing each other, saying hello to people walking by yet ignoring the attempts of the table of guys beside them to engage in some sort of food fight. I’d been artsy before, I could do it again. And sitting with them—acting like I not only didn’t know Jason, but had no desire to get to know him—was the safest way to convince him I wasn’t the girl he possibly remembered, the girl he’d grown up with. Instead, I was about to have lunch with him.
I took a deep breath. It was just one lunch, just one first day to get through, then I could get back to my plan of lying low. You can do this. But first, I needed something to eat.
I grabbed a tray and followed the familiar scent of cafeteria food to the open area at the back of the room where lunch ladies with hairnets were serving the day’s options. The pizza looked surprisingly good, but it had a line at least fifty people deep. My stomach rumbled, protesting the wait. I went to the other end of the counter and thanked the lunch lady for a plate of what appeared to be roasted chicken, salad and a glop of orange mush. I wrinkled my nose.
Someone chuckled. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Startled, I turned to find the tall a cappella guy standing next to me. I stared for a second, mesmerized by his piercing green eyes. Then I quickly peered back at the orange goop. “What is it?”
“Mashed sweet potatoes.”
I wrinkled my nose again.
He laughed, flashing two dimples. “I’m glad I came over. Now I have something else to call you.”
I tilted my head in confusion.
“I’ve been referring to you as New Girl in my head all morning,” he clarified. “But now I can add Hater of Sweet Potatoes to the list.”
“Ah.” I took a step closer to him to avoid the line forming for the chicken, glancing around at the same time. No one seemed to be paying any attention to us. “And what should I call you?” I pointed at his empty hands. “Disrespecter of Lunch Trays?”
He grinned. “I already bought my lunch. I came over just to talk to you.”
A wave of apprehension flowed through me. This better not be some kind of prank on the new girl.
“I saw your collision this morning and just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said with a shrug. “I thought maybe you could use a friend who isn’t trying to body slam you.”
Okay, not what I was expecting at all. “You saw that, huh?”
“You know, maybe I should call you Receiver of a Completely Uncalled-For Hallway Football Smackdown. Believe it or not, that’s not the way most of us welcome a new student.”
A tiny smile formed on my lips. “Maybe I should be Creator of the Full-Contact First-Day Meet and Greet. Guaranteed to get you up close and personal with your new classmates.”
He bit back his own smile. “Actually, I was hoping you’d be Needer of a Place to Sit?” He nodded at a table over his shoulder that was surprisingly empty.
My reply was interrupted by a husky voice shouting, “There you are!” over the cafeteria chatter. I turned and saw Sawyer rushing over.
Sawyer placed his hands on my shoulders. “Livie was afraid you got lost. Come on, you can pay over here and then I’ll show you to our table.” He nodded at the a cappella guy and muttered, “Hey, man,” before steering me away.
I peeked back over my shoulder.
“Watch out for flying sports equipment!” the guy called after me.
I grinned until I spotted a girl with a short black pixie haircut glaring at me from a nearby table full of girls now watching me. I knew what that glare meant: Mr. Welcoming Committee probably once belonged at that table and according to its current occupants, he was off-limits. The smile disappeared from my face.
“What do you want to drink?” Sawyer asked, drawing my attention back to him. “Water, juice, milk?”
“Water.” I pressed my lips together, annoyed at myself for forgetting I was in ground zero of high school social cliques. I already had Jason to deal with. I didn’t need any other complications.
Sawyer placed a bottle of water on my tray and took the tray out of my hands. “Let me pay for this.”
“What? Sawyer, no.” I tried unsuccessfully to pry the tray away from him.
He pulled a card out of his pocket and held it against a scanner by the cashier. “Already done.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I protested as I followed him across the cafeteria.
“I was the one who convinced Jason to play football this morning. This is my way of apologizing.” He shrugged, but his expression showed he considered it something more than an apology.
I hoped he wasn’t considering it a date.
Sawyer led me to the end of a table where Jason and Livie were already sitting next to each other. Livie slipped her hand out of Jason’s and waved when she saw us.
“So.” Sawyer settled into the seat next to me, across from Jason and Livie, and slid my tray over. “Are you from Tennessee?”
My heart skipped a beat. I had lived in Tennessee. Granted, it had only been for two months, but it hadn’t even been a year since we’d left. Please don’t tell me I have to worry about someone in addition to Jason recognizing me.
“Because you’re the only ten I see,” Sawyer continued without giving me the chance to reply.
I let out a shaky laugh. I could’ve hugged the person who created such a corny joke right then.
Livie groaned. “At least let her eat before you pile on the pickup lines. They’re hard to take on an empty stomach.”
Sawyer reached over and snatched a piece of pepperoni off Livie’s pizza. “You’re just jealous I found someone new to pick up. Plus, I think Sloane likes them.”
“I think you’re delusional,” Livie fired back. “And I’m actually thrilled you’ve found someone else to practice on.”
Jason leaned across the table toward me, a half smile playing on his lips. “They argue like this all the time. You’ll get used to it.”
It was a look I remembered now too, like the smirk. The one that always made it seem like he was letting me in on a secret.
Jason popped a tomato from his salad into his mouth. “So where are you really from?”
I hesitated, instinct warning me to tell him as little as possible. But this was why Mark created fictional backstories every time we moved.
“Pierre, South Dakota,” I lied.
“Wow,” Livie said. “What’s it like there?”
I bit back a grin. “Cold.” I’d never actually been to South Dakota, but I had lived in four of the six states that bordered it and that much I knew well. I peeked at Jason. “I lived there my whole life though, so I got used to it.”
“You probably didn’t get to see much water,” Sawyer guessed.
I furrowed my eyebrows. “It’s on the Missouri River. And there’s a large lake nearby.” Thank you, internet research.
Sawyer’s light brown eyes brightened. “But have you seen the ocean yet? The beach is so close. Maybe I can show you.”
I glanced down at my plate. I grew up in the Atlantic Ocean, like all the other kids who lived in my beach town on the Jersey Shore. But I hadn’t seen it since I left; I hadn’t even been back to the East Coast since I left. And I wasn’t ready to see it again. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Are you a senior?” Livie asked.
I nodded.
She frowned. “It must’ve been really hard to move this close to graduation. I moved here at the beginning of the school year and it sucked starting my senior year someplace new, even with the First Day Buddy I got.”
“It’s not that bad. My dad got a new job and he had to start right away.”
“But what about your mom?” Livie continued. “I mean, couldn’t you two have stayed in South Dakota for a few more weeks until you graduated and then met your dad out here?”
“I don’t have a mom,” I said.
Sawyer and Livie wore matching shocked expressions but Jason’s eyes were a bit narrowed, more curious than surprised. I pretended not to notice.
“I mean, I have one. I just don’t know where she is.” I stabbed a piece of chicken with my fork. “My parents were only sixteen when they had me. My mom stuck around until I was three but she wanted freedom and parties, not a toddler. So she took off and it’s been just my dad and me ever since.” It was a variation of the story we used every time Mark pretended to be my father.
Livie sat straighter. “Your dad’s been taking care of you by himself since he was nineteen? That’s so sweet.” She fiddled with the edge of Jason’s shirt around his bicep. “We should set him up with your mom.”
I put my fork down. “What?”
“Jason’s parents are divorced and his mom’s the best. She totally needs a sweetheart to sweep her off her feet.”
Disbelief coursed through me. I never would’ve thought it was possible for Jason’s parents to be anything other than fairy-tale happily-ever-after in love. What happened?
Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “You know she doesn’t like blind dates.”
“So we’ll have a welcome party for Sloane and her dad,” Livie said. She wrapped her hands around Jason’s arm and scooted closer to him. “I can help your mom cook and she can get to know Sloane’s dad before they go out. Then it won’t be a blind date.”
Even if Mark would’ve gone for that, Jason looked uncomfortable with the idea. And there was no way I was putting the two of them in the same room together. “My dad’s really busy with his new job. It might be a while before he has any free time.”
Livie’s shoulders fell. “Oh.”
Jason gave me a grateful smile. “I think you came at the perfect time. All the senior stuff is about to start.”
“That’s right,” Sawyer agreed. He bumped my shoulder with his own. “Tomorrow’s the senior scavenger hunt. Every team has to get pictures of different things around school and the team that completes their list the fastest gets to pick the music that plays when we march out of graduation.”
I inched my chair away from his. “Really? You can pick any song?”
Jason nodded. “As long as it doesn’t have curse words, anything goes.” He turned to Sawyer. “Remember last year was that continuous loop of the theme song to Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood?”
“If we win we should pick ‘Fight for Your Right’ by the Beastie Boys,” Sawyer declared.
Jason pointed his fork at Sawyer. “Can’t go wrong with a classic.”
“Come on!” Livie whined. “Don’t Sloane and I get a say?”
I choked on a bite of chicken. “You want me on your team?” I’d already been plotting ways to avoid the whole thing.
“It’s part of your First Day Buddy experience. Mrs. Zalinsky was adamant about me including you on my team.”
Damn Mrs. Zalinsky and her thoughtfulness. “You really don’t have to—”
“Nope,” Sawyer interrupted. “There’s no getting out of it. You have to be on our team.” He patted my arm like he was comforting a confused senior citizen. “You’re part of the club.”
I opened my mouth then closed it, trying to figure out where he was going with this. “What club?”
Sawyer widened his ever-present grin. “You are Sloane Sullivan, right?”
My heart stuttered, but I plastered on a teasing smile. “Who else would I be?”
Jason’s eyes lit up as he held my gaze. “Two first names,” he explained.
I tore my eyes away from Jason to study Sawyer and Livie. “Wait. Do all of you have two first names?”
Livie pointed as she identified each of them. “Jason Thomas, Sawyer James, and Liv Dawson.”
Leave it to Jason to find a whole club. “Okay, but does Sullivan really count as a first name?”
Jason nodded. “It was my grandpa’s first name, remember?”
Memories I hadn’t thought of in years danced in my head: Jason’s grandpa dressed like Santa every Christmas, the way he’d pull quarters from behind my ear, going to his funeral when we were nine. My pulse raced. Is he asking if I remember all that?
“I said that when I saw your schedule this morning,” Jason continued.
I blew out a silent breath.
“There’s that cute actor from the FBI show with the tattoos. His first name is Sullivan,” Livie added, unaware of my momentary panic. “Oh, and the singer for some punk band I’ve never heard of before. Some girls were talking about him in class the other day.”
“Plus,” Jason said, “your first and last name start with the same sound. That cancels out the fact you think it doesn’t count.”
When Jason smiled, I couldn’t help but smile back. An obsession with both Superman and Spider-Man when we were little made him believe that anyone with first and last names that started with the same sound could really be a superhero in disguise.
Livie made a dismissive noise. “Of course they’ll count Sullivan. My last name’s Dawson and they let me in.”
“Dawson’s a first name,” Sawyer insisted. “What about Dawson’s Creek?”
“It’s a fictional first name,” Livie said. “Have you ever met a real person named Dawson?”
Sawyer laughed. “Some of us like having a first name based on a fictional character, right, Sloane?”
I turned to Sawyer. “How’d you know my name is based on a fictional character?”
He shrugged. “The only Sloane I’ve heard of before is from that movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”
My skin tingled as the very first time I had to pick a name—the time I’d accidentally started naming myself after fictional characters—popped into my head.
My dad spun in a circle, his eyes bouncing around the room without ever landing on anything, like he was in a daze. “What else?” He wrung his hands together. “Underwear. Did you pack underwear?”
My gaze darted to two burly guys in suits huddled between my twin bed and the desk Jason helped paint blue and purple. They were mumbling to each other, oblivious to the underwear comment. I studied the tiny duffel bag on top of my flower bedspread. “Yes.”
“We really need to get going,” one man insisted, examining his watch.
Dad nodded. He leaned toward me, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. “Pick the thing you want to bring as your personal item, okay? I’m going to go pack a few things for Mom.” He rushed out of the room, leaving me with strangers.
The two guys by the desk glanced at each other, then followed Dad into the hall.
“What do you want your name to be?”
I jumped. I hadn’t heard the third guy, who’d been keeping watch by my window, sneak up on me. He smelled sweaty and I swallowed hard, trying not to throw up again.
“Well?” he prompted in his thick Jersey accent.
I balled my shaking hands into fists and blinked uncomprehendingly in his direction. Over his shoulder, I spotted Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland sitting on my bookshelf. “Alice,” I muttered. Because that was how I felt: like I was falling down a rabbit hole.
It was easier the second time, even though I was still terrified.
Mark turned off the TV and knelt in front of me. Something about his cologne calmed my pounding heart. I took a deep breath. The spicy scent was so much better than the stale-smelling lumpy couch I was lying on.
“I know it’s only been three weeks, but we need to move again,” he said in a soothing voice. “So you’re going to have to pick a new name.”
I gazed over his shoulder at Dad, who was leaning against the cramped motel room wall. His dyed brown hair was matted to his head and his brown eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, but he gave me a slight nod of encouragement.
I closed my eyes and imagined who I wanted to be. Because anyone had to be better than the broken girl Alice was.
“Beth,” I whispered. I’d just started reading Little Women and Beth’s character was described as living in a happy world of her own. That’s just what I needed.
“Hmm.” Mark rubbed his chin. “You picked Alice from the Wonderland book, right?”
I nodded, surprised he knew that. He hadn’t been in my room that day.
“Did you know Lewis Carroll based that character on a real girl named Alice Liddell?”
I sat up. “No.”
“What if we use Beth Liddell?” He stood. “It’ll be our little secret, the connection between your names.”
A hint of a smile formed on my lips. “Okay.”
And even though I soon found out Beth ended up dying in Little Women, that was how the tradition was born. I picked the first name and Mark picked the last. I went alphabetically, because it helped me remember what letter my name started with every time we moved, and he chose something related to my prior first name. Which was simple, given it always came from a book or movie or song. It gave me an easy answer when someone asked about my name. Because, like Sawyer, someone always asked. It was the one constant I found everywhere we went: people were curious.
I’d been Charlotte from Charlotte’s Web, Elise from The Cure’s “A Letter to Elise,” and Jenny from Forrest Gump. And now Sloane from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Hey, it was on TV when I was picking. And who wouldn’t want to be the girl having a fun ditch day with her boyfriend?
I nodded at Sawyer. “You guessed it—I’m named after Ferris Bueller’s girlfriend. And you—” I tapped a finger against my lip “—must be named after Tom Sawyer.”
Sawyer’s mouth dropped open in offense. “No. I’m named after Sawyer from the TV show Lost.”
I snickered. “That show wasn’t on TV yet when we were born.”
Jason chuckled.
“Busted,” Livie sang.
Sawyer blushed. “Okay, fine. I thought it would go over better with the ladies if I was named after a sensitive bad boy rather than some kid in a boring old book.”
I placed a hand over my heart. “I happen to like that boring old book. And if your ladies can’t figure out how to Google when a TV show first aired, maybe you need to find some smarter ones.”
Sawyer gave me a lazy smile as his eyes roamed up and down my body. “Maybe I should.”
Livie’s eyes danced. “It’s going to be so entertaining to watch you crash and burn again.”
Sawyer glared at her.
Dial it back, Sloane. Blend in. Be forgettable. Start asking them the questions. “So,” I said, “what other senior stuff is coming up?”
Sawyer wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Prom.”
“Career day,” Livie added.
“The senior trip,” Jason said.
Livie gasped and released Jason’s arm to point at me. “You and I can room together! This is perfect!”
Good God, how far is she going to take this First Day Buddy thing? “What’s the senior trip?”
Jason straightened a stack of napkins on his tray. “It’s a school tradition that all seniors take an overnight field trip to Charleston the last weekend in April. Everyone goes. We visit Fort Sumter and tour the city and eat good food.”
“And people smuggle alcohol along and party in their hotel rooms,” Sawyer said.
Jason shot him a pointed look. “But not too much alcohol, right?”
“What?” Sawyer’s voice was a little too innocent.
“Last time you drank, you got pissed someone beat you at cards and punched a hole in the drywall in your basement.” Livie shook her head. “I know you haven’t forgotten being grounded for a month.”
“Whatever,” Sawyer muttered. A blush crept up his neck.
Livie turned back to me. “So what do you think?”
School traditions and parties and alcohol were all things I tended to stay away from. Plus, I wasn’t sure how Mark would react to an overnight field trip. But a tiny flutter of excitement ran through me. Because traveling, actually going to a new place just to sightsee and hang out and not have to change names to do it, sounded amazing. “Is it too late for me to sign up?”
“Not at all. The forms are due in two days. You have to room with someone of the same sex and I’ve been having trouble finding someone.”
She must seriously be in need of some female friends.
“But the roommates don’t really matter,” Livie continued, “because I heard the chaperones go to bed early and everyone sneaks out and hooks up.” She peeked sideways at Jason.
Jason’s shoulders tensed. He picked up a napkin, scrunched it into a ball and held it out to Sawyer. “Bet you can’t get this into that trash can.” His eyes brightened as he pointed at an open, industrial-sized, round plastic trash can sitting about twelve feet away.
Livie rolled her eyes and pulled her phone out of her pocket.
I suppressed a smile as more memories came flooding back. When Jason and I were little, we made bets about everything, like who could run around his house three times the fastest or who had the longest french fry in their Happy Meal or who could knock the most action figures off the deck railing with a Nerf gun. Making goofy bets was one of the things about the old me that had disappeared the fastest.
Sawyer cocked an eyebrow. “Loser has to make all the shirts for the scavenger hunt?”
“You’re on,” Jason replied.
Sawyer took the napkin from Jason.
My hands itched to snatch it from him and shoot it myself. The girl Jason knew had been a horrible basketball player who never could’ve made the shot they were talking about. But I’d just left Lexington, Kentucky, home of the University of Kentucky, where basketball is king. Mark and I had really gotten into the Wildcats’ season, and had even gotten a basketball hoop at our house. We’d spent hours playing each other. I tucked my fingers under my legs so I couldn’t grab a napkin and turn it into a ball.
The boys each made their first shots and missed their second, Sawyer’s by a good two feet. At the start of round three, Sawyer got a lucky bounce, his ball ricocheting off the rim and disappearing inside. But as soon as Jason lined up for his shot, I could tell his trajectory was off. The napkin hit the side of the trash can and landed on the floor.
“Yes!” Sawyer raised his hands in triumph.
I so could’ve beaten them both.
“Your gloating is childish,” Livie said without glancing up from her phone. For a second I thought she was talking to me.
Jason turned to Sawyer. “Looks like I’ll be decorating T-shirts.”
“T-shirts?” I asked.
“Every scavenger hunt team wears matching shirts,” Sawyer explained. “It’s not a rule or anything, but people take it pretty seriously.”
“We’re going to my house after school to make them,” Jason said. “You should come since you’ll need one too.”
No way. Jason’s house meant Jason’s mom and that was just...no. I couldn’t risk being seen by anyone else who knew me. I opened my mouth to give them an excuse.
“No excuses,” Livie said, pointing at me. “You say no to everything, but we want you to come.”
The boys nodded their agreement.
“Let me guess, it’s a required part of the First Day Buddy contract?”
Livie grinned. “You catch on quick.”
Sawyer peeked at me. “We could do it at my house instead. I can give you a ride if you need one, Sloane.”
I internally winced. I couldn’t go to Jason’s house, yet I didn’t want to encourage Sawyer by taking him up on his offer.
“We can’t do it at your house,” Jason said. “You said your mom was hosting some book club thing.”
“Crap. I forgot about that.”
“Besides,” Jason continued, “my mom will be at work. We’ll have the place to ourselves.” He gave me a half smile. “Want to come over and help us decide what to put on the shirts?”
His mom wasn’t going to be there. That changed things. I wanted to see where he lived and what his room looked like and maybe find out what happened to his parents. “I can come for a little while.”
“Great!” Sawyer exclaimed with such enthusiasm you would’ve thought I’d just agreed to go to the prom with him. “I can still give you a ride if you want.” He grabbed his phone out of his bag. “Or I can text you directions to J’s.” He frowned at the phone for a moment. “There’s something wrong with my phone.” Then he looked up and gave me a lopsided grin. “It doesn’t have your number in it.”
I snorted. “I can’t fix that.”
Livie shot Sawyer a smug look. “Crash and burn.”
“No,” I insisted, “I meant I don’t have a phone.” Under the table, I ran a hand over the pocket where my phone was hiding. My secret only-use-to-keep-in-touch-with-Mark-and-never-share-the-number-under-strict-penalty-of-death phone.
All three stared at me like I’d just sprouted wings.
“I had one,” I mumbled. “I got really addicted to it a few years ago and gave it up cold turkey. No social media accounts either. You should try it. I have so much more free time now.”
Livie’s mouth dropped open. “I could never live without my phone.” From the seriousness of her voice, she clearly ranked phone on her list of necessities right next to food and oxygen.
I reached into my backpack, pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and slid them over to Jason. “You can be old-school and write your address down. I’ll find my way there.”
He scribbled something, folded the paper, and slid it back to me just as a middle-aged woman wearing a suit and stiletto heels approached us. “Gentlemen, I expect you to clean up the remnants of your little basketball game.” She rapped a knuckle on our table as she walked by.
“Yes, Principal Thompson,” Jason and Sawyer replied in unison.
They both jumped up to collect the trash. As soon as they were out of earshot, Livie leaned across the table, her voice low so the boys wouldn’t hear. “How’d you get Oliver Clarke to talk to you?”
“Who?”
She made an impatient sound. “Oliver Clarke? Voice so smooth you just want to eat him up? Eyes so green they make everyone else’s jealous?”
Um, okay. I’d admired his voice earlier, but eating him hadn’t popped into my head. “Oh, him.”
“Yes, him.” Livie sighed. “He broke up with his girlfriend about a week ago. Or maybe she broke up with him. No one knows exactly what happened, but the rumors are flying. He basically hasn’t been talking to anyone since. They’d been dating forever, even though she’s probably the worst person in this school, so it was kind of a big deal.”
“Let me guess. His ex-girlfriend has short black hair?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“She didn’t seem to like it when I talked to him.”
Livie slapped a hand on the table. “I knew it! He must’ve dumped her.”
“What’s her deal?”
Livie watched Oliver’s ex for a few seconds, eyes serious. “She knows everyone’s secrets and likes to share.”
I peered over my shoulder at Oliver, reading quietly at his deserted table. He’s in some kind of self-imposed social exile because of a gossip-inducing breakup with the secret-sharing “worst person” in the school? There are so many reasons to stay away from him.
“Nobody in their right mind would break up with Oliver,” Livie said. “I mean, there are definitely hotter guys here.” Her gaze darted around the cafeteria, presumably landing on all the boys she thought were better looking, but she never once glanced in Jason’s direction. “But that voice.” She looked at me. “I would do absolutely anything he asked if he sang it to me.”
Hold up. Did she just imply Oliver was a better catch than her boyfriend? He was kind of cute. And apparently single, not that I would’ve done anything about it. I’d learned the hard way not to get attached to anyone because I never knew when I’d have to leave at the worst possible time. But Oliver didn’t have anything on Jason.
Livie launched into a story about some elaborate revenge Oliver’s ex got on the last girl to hit on him, but I wasn’t listening. I unfolded the piece of paper in my hands. Under his address, Jason had written two sentences: Bet you Sawyer uses at least five inappropriate pickup lines on you while you’re at my house. Loser has to teach him the meaning of moderation?
I smiled. Oliver definitely didn’t have anything on Jason.
