Underneath by Sarah Jamila Stevenson Page B

start gathering my stuff together.
    â€œHey, don’t go anywhere,” Mikaela says. “You can’t take him seriously. He doesn’t have a filter between his brain and his mouth.” She turns to the guy. “God, can you stop being a bitch for one day? This is that girl Sunny; you know.” She glares at him across the table, then lowers her voice. “The assembly , Les. Remember?”
    I let out my breath as silently as possible in a long sigh and sit back down, mortified. This is going about as badly as I could have imagined.
    â€œQuit calling me Les. It’s Cody now,” he corrects her, turning the sneer on her. She seems to wilt a little, momentarily, but then her face hardens to a glower again. “And yeah,” Cody continues, “I remember the assembly. So what?”
    â€œSo nothing. So, shut the fuck up,” she says almost good-naturedly, like she says it a dozen times a day. The group laughs and Cody flips her off, but he’s smiling as he does it. Meanwhile, I’m just sitting there like an idiot without a single intelligent thought running through my head. And then
    â€” jerk you always act like such a jerk,
god just get a life and leave
the poor girl alone.
jesus I can’t believe she’s taking this so well,
I’d be bawling already I’d be crying
still from what happened—
    My body shakes a little, and I feel her anger almost as intensely as if it’s my own. The anger hums through me along with a mixture of frustration and—not pity, but a feeling I can’t quite put my finger on, something complicated like the flavor of spice cookies or the smell of anise. It takes a moment to regain my composure, but my eyes finally focus again and I drop the squished remains of my sandwich, blinking stupidly.
    I have no idea what to think. All I know is, she defended me to her friends and she absolutely, positively meant it, too.
    I inhale sharply, trying to calm down, then immediately regret drawing attention to myself.
    â€œWhat, Little-Miss-Preppy-Pants is traumatized by the F-word? Do you want to wash her mouth out with soap—what’s your name—Sunny? Is that for real?” He directs a mildly amused glance in my general direction, briefly making eye contact. Is he trying to flirt now? What a freak. I tilt my head, strain to pick up something, anything, but my brief moment of underhearing has stopped and I’m left confused as ever, without a clue what’s going on behind his eyes.
    â€œI had her in a class freshman year. It’s for real, Lester Cody Anderson,” Mikaela says scornfully. She turns toward me and, all of a sudden, her face lights up with a huge grin. Not another glare, not even the dreaded Stare of Pity. She has a truly gorgeous, thousand-watt smile, and sitting there basking in it, I can’t help feeling a little better.
    From Shiri Langford’s journal, February 22nd
    Dad said if I don’t “shape up” he’s going to have to “seriously reconsider his decision to send me so far away to such an exclusive college.” I’m not even sure what that means. Is he going to make me move back home, just because he’s paying for my housing? I can’t let that happen. I’d run away first. He can’t stop me. My tuition, at least, is paid for with my tennis scholarship, as long as I get my grades back up.
    It’s so unfair. Randall gets everything and I get nothing, I never even asked for anything, and what little I get is contingent on doing exactly what HE wants.
    I hope Mom’s holding up.
    Some good news, though. Brendan. Every time I think about him, I think that maybe if things get bad … maybe we could run away together. The first time I met him, THAT happened and I knew he was the kind of guy who would understand how my family is, because he’s had his own struggles. I admire him so much.
    If I could just never go home again, I think I might