Starlee's Turn (The Wayward Sons 2)

“Unfortunately, no. Our Ambassadors have been trained to help new students, but lunch is coming up in the next few periods. I’m sure you’ll be able to locate them then.”

On cue, Leelee hands me the paper bag filled with food. There’s no way my stomach will let me eat anything today.

“Thank you,” Leelee says. “We’ll wait in the hall.”

“Have a great first day. Let me know if there’s any trouble with your schedule.”

We step into the hallway—which is quiet now that classes are back in session. “Leelee, I’m not sure I can do this.”

“Of course, you can.”

“What if…what if the boys don’t want to see me?” The worry pops out of my mouth before I can filter it. “What if they have a whole life I’m not involved with or aware of and they don’t want me to be part of it?”

“I don’t think that’s true, not with the way they hang around all the time asking me for any scrap of information on you, but what if it is? Does that change that this is what you’ve wanted? The freedom and school? Boys can’t be your life, no more than your mother could be your life.” She pulls my head down and kisses my forehead. “You’ve got the blood of all the Starlees before you. Spread your wings. Explore. Survive. That’s what we do.”

It’s the first time anyone has put it to me that way, but I sense the truth. It is in my blood—adventure. My mother tried to suppress it and my nature rebelled. I smile at my grandmother. “Thank you, Leelee, for everything.”

“You’re a good girl, Starlee.” We both look up at the girl walking our way. “Have a great day. Call me if you need me to pick you up, but I suspect you’ll find a way home.”

Leelee vanishes out the front door, leaving me alone. My mother never would leave me alone in a school hallway with a girl I’d never met. Toughen up, Starlee, I tell myself. This is what you wanted.

The girl slows her gait as she approaches. She’s got short dark hair, with blunt bangs in the front. She’s wearing a straight, plaid skirt that hits right above her knees, tights and thick-soled loafers. Her smile is friendly and she thrusts her hand out at me in greeting. “Hi, I’m Margaret Wilson, Student Ambassador for the senior class.”

“I’m Starlee Jones.” Her grip is firm.

“Do you have a schedule?”

“Yes.” I hold up the paper. “Here.”

She skims the page. “Great, we have a few classes together. The APs mostly. I’ve already taken P.E., but our art teacher, Ms. Peterman, is amazing. It will be mostly freshmen, but it’s worth it.”

I try to keep up with all the information.

“I’ll start by showing you all your classes and the main features of the school; cafeteria, library…and then it will be time for lunch and you can start the second half of the day.”

“Great.”

She leads me down the hallway, pointing out the science hall and the classroom where I’ll have physics, then the English hall and computer sciences. “By the way, I love your hair,” she says, eyeing my long red curls. “Like, I would die for it.”

I tug on a strand. “Oh, thanks. It can be hard to manage sometimes.”

She asks me about myself and I explain that I’m from North Carolina and home schooled. I mention living with my grandmother but not much else. I want a fresh start here—not my past dragging around behind me. Margaret doesn’t pry, which is nice. A boy lopes our way, carrying a piece of paper in his hand. His hair is short and messy. He watches both of us. “Hey, Margaret.”

“Tyson.”

His eyes linger on me. I smile tightly, unsure of what to do. Margaret jumps in. “Tyson, this is Starlee. She’s a new student.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, flashing me a wide grin before walking off.

Once he’s around the corner, she says, “Fair warning, you may be pretty overwhelmed today—or this week, even. We rarely get new students, so everyone gets pretty excited.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure out pretty quickly I’m not that interesting.”

“Our expectations are super low.” She opens the door to the gym. “Your PE class will meet in here. Some days you’ll go outside—just depends on the curriculum and weather. You’ll be let off the hook for dressing out today since you’re new, but tomorrow bring a change of clothes.”

“Got it.”

The door closes and