a job opening where I work that I believe you would fill quite well. It becomes available in two weeks.”

I perked up. I thought I’d have to do the whole job search thing, but Maeve was offering me a job on a platter. Sure, going to Homecoming was a condition, but even that was better than slogging through applications, trying to find work on my own. “What kind of job?”

“It’s in administration,” Maeve said vaguely. It was probably some sort of assistant job. Paperwork, maybe. Well, I could do that.

“Um, sure. Yeah. Deal,” I said, before she could take it back.

Maeve smiled, shaking her head. “You need to hurry or you’ll miss the bus.”

I nodded, cramming the rest of my pancake into my mouth and dumping my plate in the sink before I ran upstairs to finish my makeup. Normally, my bruises would be almost gone by now, but they were only half as angry as they had been when I’d first come here. But I’d been pretty stressed. Was stress enough to keep bruises from healing?

I came down to Maeve saying, “Was it the council?”

Mickey’s head was down and he was spearing his pancakes with undue ferocity. “Don’t know. Didn’t get to it in time.”

Maeve’s brows furrowed. “I don’t like it. This is the second time it’s happened. We need to know which of the council is interfering—” She glanced up as I walked into the kitchen to grab a snack for later on. “Ah, Kella.”

“What’s going on with the council?” I said as I opened the cupboard next to the fridge.

Maeve hesitated just a second before saying, “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Be nice if they left a calling card,” Mickey mumbled, spearing another pancake. “Whoever it was is acting too close to the—to Homecoming for it to be a coincidence.”

“What does Homecoming have to do with anything? And what did they do?” I asked.

I looked over at Maeve just in time to see her giving the stink eye to Mickey. But a glance at me and her features quickly transformed into careful neutrality.

“They haven’t done anything yet, but we have reason to believe a council member is meddling in Homecoming affairs. Some members will find any excuse they can to exert influence in the community,” Maeve replied.

“Wow. Sounds like major power trippers with some serious issues if they’re making a homecoming into a big deal.”

Mickey chuckled darkly. “’Power trippers’ is a fairly accurate description.”

I shook my head. I didn’t get it. Why would anyone on the council care about a high school homecoming? This town had to be a lot smaller than I thought to have this kind of thing be a big deal. Deena’d said small towns had their own way of doing things. Maybe this was the sort of thing she meant.

“So how would they interfere anyway? Try to choose the Homecoming King or something?”

Maeve coughed. “Um, yes, you could say that.”

I rolled my eyes. “And they really don’t have anything better to do? I mean, it’s a high school homecoming court—pretty much one big popularity contest. What are they going to do, lobby students for one of their kids to be voted in?”

Mickey grinned at me. “I would hazard to say yes to both of those questions.”

“Mickey,” Maeve warned.

He shrugged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Wow,” I said, grabbing a halo for my backup snack. “If this is what small town councils are like, it’s pretty pathetic.” I coughed as I glanced at Maeve. “No offense.”

Maeve pursed her lips, but Mickey gave me a lopsided grin. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

For the first time in a while, I walked through the doors of the high school feeling something other than nothing. I had a plan, and I was determined that nothing was going to get in my way—including getting in trouble because my grades were slipping. I needed Deena and my assigned judge to see me as a responsible teen who had her life—and grades—under control. That was my best bet if I wanted to get emancipated from foster care.

But that meant I had some serious work to do. Namely, rescue my grade free fall and get a job. The grades shouldn’t be a problem though; I had a sob-worthy excuse that even the most heartless teacher wouldn’t ignore. I mean, how often do students learn that both of their parents are dead on the same day? It was a pretty legit excuse—they’d definitely let me make up any work.

I had dressed to elicit optimal sympathy, settling on my oversized skinny jeans with a flowing navy-blue top that Maeve had gotten me a couple of weeks back. I’d decided the outfit, combined with the half-up hairstyle that I wore when I was in middle school, made me look softer—or at least younger—than I was.

So I was a bit surprised when heads started swiveling my way like I was some sort of eye candy.

“What’s going on?” I leaned forward to whisper into Mickey’s ear. He flicked his eyes over the hallway as we walked to our lockers.

“What are you talking about?” he whispered back.

“Everybody’s staring at me.” Staring was probably the wrong word. It was more like stealing glances—enough to where it was obvious that they were stealing a lot of glances. My eyes widened as I watched groups of two and three chatting together, furtively looking at me the whole time.

Mickey cocked a brow. “Really? That’s not new.”

“Well, it’s the first time I’ve noticed it,” I snapped.

“Yeah.” He stopped at his locker and fiddled with the combination. “Because it’s the first time in days that you haven’t been in zombie-mode, so you’re actually somewhat aware of what’s going on.”

Oh. Point.

“By the way, I still don’t understand. I thought you’d be happy that guy was dead.”

I ignored his last comment—mostly because I didn’t get it, either. “So,” I said, resting my shoulder against the slick blue locker next to him, “why are they staring at me?”

Mickey opened his locker, ignoring me.

“I

Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату