It may have been small, but it made things more intimate. We could joke about tripping over the coffee table, which all of us had at some point. There was a bright green coat rack by the door that stuck out like a sore thumb against the pale yellow wallpaper that had little white and yellow stripes decorating the bottom half, and an orange bowl that keys, receipts, and other odds and ends always found their way in.
Mama’s house is colorful, quaint.
Dad’s house is…normal.
I never understood normal.
I’m playing with the scrambled eggs and bacon on my plate when Dad kisses Cam goodbye and tells Kaiden and I to have a good first day of school. Since I’m without a car, Kaiden is supposed to drive us and show me where the office is since Dad couldn’t get time off to bring me to the school early and show me himself.
Cam tried getting Kaiden to take me last week to familiarize myself with the campus layout, but I didn’t want him to feel obligated, so I lied and told her it was fine. Truth is, my heart is pounding so hard in my chest from nerves that I worry I’ll die from a heart attack long before my disease does me in. If the room gets any quieter, they’d probably hear it drum an uneven tune.
I’m halfway done with my breakfast before I glance at the clock and then at Cam. She knows my worries and gives me a small smile before passing me a granola bar, money for lunch, and a signed piece of paper with Dad’s name on the bottom.
For school records, she tells me.
Slipping everything into my bag, I ask Kaiden if he’s ready. His response is nothing more than a grunt before he pushes away from the table, grabs his bag and car keys, and then gestures toward the front door.
He doesn’t tell Cam goodbye.
She doesn’t wish us a good day.
She just smiles sadly as we leave.
I want to ask Kaiden why he’s so angry and won’t talk. Cam seems like a nice woman, so I don’t get why he acts so dismissive around her. I know better than to pry in other people’s business. Then they’d have a right to pry into mine.
When we get to the school, I follow Kaiden inside from the student parking lot already packed with cars. He simply points in the direction of the office and shoots me a sarcastic good luck over his shoulder before disappearing into a crowd of people who slap his back and greet him with big smiles while completely ignoring my existence.
Happy birthday to me.
There’s a decorative brick wall behind the principal’s desk that matches the exterior of the building. It doesn’t necessarily match the white walls or rest of the classy decor, though I haven’t had time to explore yet.
The dark-haired man sitting in front of me is young and burly, probably late thirties, and doesn’t seem to be particularly organized based on the way he searches through papers for my file. He seems flustered. I’m sure if I looked hard enough I’d see sweat dot his brow.
He gives me an apologetic smile before rifling through a different stack. “The guidance counselor usually handles this.”
I’m not sure why he tells me that, so I just nod. I could ask him on the counselor’s whereabouts, but I’m not sure I care. If Mama were here she’d keep conversation going easily by asking about the school’s history or why Exeter High is home of the Wildcats and not something more fitting of the purple and gold colors.
She’s not here though.
Neither is the counselor.
Neither is Logan.
Principal Richman, according to the nasally secretary who guided me to his chaotic workspace, finally lifts a manila folder off his desk and looks at me triumphantly.
“Emery Matterson.”
At this rate I won’t make it to class until third period. Participation in Government, or PIG as my last school referred to the civics course, isn’t exactly what I want to start my day with, but it’s better than math. I’ll miss first period Geometry and second period Phys Ed. Nothing to cry over, that’s for sure.
His dark eyes scan the contents of my file before tugging on the collar of his white button-down. Clearing his throat, he reads over the paper I gave him with my father’s signature.
“Right.” He nods, setting down the papers and giving me a quick onceover. “Well, Ms. Matterson, it looks like you were mailed the schedule and school policies already, and you’ll receive textbooks in your classes today. Your schedule should list your locker number, which you’ll get the lock and combination to from the Phys Ed teacher. Your father mentioned setting you up with weekly check-ins with our guidance counselor and nurse. Our counselor won’t be back until next week, but I can take you to Ms. Gilly in the nurse’s office before I have someone show you to your locker.”
Wait a minute. “Why would I do weekly check-ins with the counselor and nurse?”
He hesitates, brows furrowing for a moment before locking his hands together on his desk. “Typically, we have transfers meet the counselor about the transition to ensure they’re comfortable during the first few weeks. Most students have been in the district their entire lives, so they know the whereabouts. We understand new schools, especially for later admitted students, can be difficult to adjust to.”
My jaw ticks. “And the nurse?”