agreed, “Wow.”
Seemy climbed up on the futon next to me. “So do you still see him, Tick’s dad?”
“We go out on weekends sometimes. It’s technically just the Tick’s visit, but I go too. And Tick spends two weeks there in the summer.”
“My ex-boyfriend used to do that,” Seemy said solemnly. “Two weeks with his dad every summer, and every other weekend I wouldn’t get to see him. Sucked.”
“That does suck,” I agreed, standing up. “Do you need anything else? An extra blanket or anything? The AC only has two settings—off and frigid.”
“Nah, I’m good,” Seemy said.
The next morning I woke up to find Seemy and the Tick sitting on the futon playing go fish.
CHAPTER 9
TODAY
“Y ou’re late,” snaps Sheila, the front-office administrator, standing up from behind her desk as soon as I push open the office door. “I saw you out the window, and I know you’ve been here for thirty minutes already.”
“I had to go to the bathroom,” I tell her, laying my arms on the high wooden counter that divides the office. The room swings sideways a little bit, and I feel my eyes flutter closed. I rest my forehead on my wrists until the feeling stops.
“Are you okay?” Sheila asks.
No. Definitely not.
“I’m fine. Just some lady troubles,” I explain, taking a breath and standing up straight, keeping the fingers of one hand pressed lightly against the counter, hoping it will help me keep my balance.
“Mmm-hmmm,” Sheila says, crossing her arms to glower down at me from her side of the counter. She’s obviously not convinced. “Glad to see you found some proper shoes at least, though I’d rather you had found some makeup remover.”
I try to wiggle my eyebrows in what I hope is an endearing way, though my voice comes out hollow and strange. “It was a Halloween costume gone horribly, horribly wrong.”
Sheila raises her eyebrows at me. “Class and name?”
“Junior. Masterson,” I answer.
Sheila types something, and then I see her add something next to my name. “ID, please.”
“It’s at home.” It’s too hot in here. And there’s that smell, like industrial cleaner.
She glances down at the screen. “That’s your third lost ID.”
“It’s not lost,” I explain. “It’s at home.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sheila says, and then pauses for the first-period bell to ring. “It’s not here now, and this is your third strike.”
I shrug, at a loss. “Sorry.” She just keeps staring at meand my stomach goes a little funny. “Is that . . . bad?”
She pulls a familiar-looking form printed on yellow paper out of the wire paper organizer on the desk. She slides it across to me. It’s an ID request form. “You lose three IDs, you pay two hundred fifty dollars and get a one-day in-house suspension.”
Whoa, no. There’s a loud
whooshing
noise inside my head, the kind of sound your life makes when it’s swirling down a toilet. “I . . . I didn’t know that.”
“It’s in the student handbook.”
I gulp and try to keep my voice calm. “There’s a student handbook?” I squeak.
Sheila actually looks a little bit sorry for me, which makes me want to cry even more, because I don’t deserve her pity. I did this, whatever this is, to myself. “And you signed a piece of paper when you started here saying you’d read it. All students do. Sound familiar?”
Oh God, that
does
sound familiar! I’m such an idiot. SUCH. AN. IDIOT.
“Look.” I take a deep, shuddering breath, “I can’t get a suspension.”
“Then you should have brought in your ID. It’s a one-day in-house suspension. No big—”
“No, you don’t understand!” My words tumble out. “I’m sorry to be totally freaking out on you, I know you didn’twrite the rules and you’re probably a really nice person, but seriously, I
can’t
get suspended!” I can feel my heart straining, cracking, splintering. “I promised my parents I wouldn’t mess up anymore.”
Sheila sighs at me,
Seemy climbed up on the futon next to me. “So do you still see him, Tick’s dad?”
“We go out on weekends sometimes. It’s technically just the Tick’s visit, but I go too. And Tick spends two weeks there in the summer.”
“My ex-boyfriend used to do that,” Seemy said solemnly. “Two weeks with his dad every summer, and every other weekend I wouldn’t get to see him. Sucked.”
“That does suck,” I agreed, standing up. “Do you need anything else? An extra blanket or anything? The AC only has two settings—off and frigid.”
“Nah, I’m good,” Seemy said.
The next morning I woke up to find Seemy and the Tick sitting on the futon playing go fish.
CHAPTER 9
TODAY
“Y ou’re late,” snaps Sheila, the front-office administrator, standing up from behind her desk as soon as I push open the office door. “I saw you out the window, and I know you’ve been here for thirty minutes already.”
“I had to go to the bathroom,” I tell her, laying my arms on the high wooden counter that divides the office. The room swings sideways a little bit, and I feel my eyes flutter closed. I rest my forehead on my wrists until the feeling stops.
“Are you okay?” Sheila asks.
No. Definitely not.
“I’m fine. Just some lady troubles,” I explain, taking a breath and standing up straight, keeping the fingers of one hand pressed lightly against the counter, hoping it will help me keep my balance.
“Mmm-hmmm,” Sheila says, crossing her arms to glower down at me from her side of the counter. She’s obviously not convinced. “Glad to see you found some proper shoes at least, though I’d rather you had found some makeup remover.”
I try to wiggle my eyebrows in what I hope is an endearing way, though my voice comes out hollow and strange. “It was a Halloween costume gone horribly, horribly wrong.”
Sheila raises her eyebrows at me. “Class and name?”
“Junior. Masterson,” I answer.
Sheila types something, and then I see her add something next to my name. “ID, please.”
“It’s at home.” It’s too hot in here. And there’s that smell, like industrial cleaner.
She glances down at the screen. “That’s your third lost ID.”
“It’s not lost,” I explain. “It’s at home.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sheila says, and then pauses for the first-period bell to ring. “It’s not here now, and this is your third strike.”
I shrug, at a loss. “Sorry.” She just keeps staring at meand my stomach goes a little funny. “Is that . . . bad?”
She pulls a familiar-looking form printed on yellow paper out of the wire paper organizer on the desk. She slides it across to me. It’s an ID request form. “You lose three IDs, you pay two hundred fifty dollars and get a one-day in-house suspension.”
Whoa, no. There’s a loud
whooshing
noise inside my head, the kind of sound your life makes when it’s swirling down a toilet. “I . . . I didn’t know that.”
“It’s in the student handbook.”
I gulp and try to keep my voice calm. “There’s a student handbook?” I squeak.
Sheila actually looks a little bit sorry for me, which makes me want to cry even more, because I don’t deserve her pity. I did this, whatever this is, to myself. “And you signed a piece of paper when you started here saying you’d read it. All students do. Sound familiar?”
Oh God, that
does
sound familiar! I’m such an idiot. SUCH. AN. IDIOT.
“Look.” I take a deep, shuddering breath, “I can’t get a suspension.”
“Then you should have brought in your ID. It’s a one-day in-house suspension. No big—”
“No, you don’t understand!” My words tumble out. “I’m sorry to be totally freaking out on you, I know you didn’twrite the rules and you’re probably a really nice person, but seriously, I
can’t
get suspended!” I can feel my heart straining, cracking, splintering. “I promised my parents I wouldn’t mess up anymore.”
Sheila sighs at me,
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