Underneath the Sycamore Tree

I frown.

“Your mother needs you,” he states.

My eyes narrow. “Funny,” I retort. “So does yours.”

He looks like he wants to say something but chooses to smack the wall before turning back to his room. His door slams again, leaving me standing abandoned in the hallway.

I look at my arm.

It’s already starting to bruise.

I need more iron pills.

Chapter Thirteen

Annabel from Book Club tells me about what I missed, which was a whole lot of nothing. It’s nice though, even if Mr. Nichols told her to catch me up. She didn’t have to.

I tell her I like her shirt. It has the Superman emblem on the pocket. Lo and I would sometimes catch Mama watching Smallville, but neither of us followed what was happening. We’d go outside and play instead.

Annabel and I don’t talk much after that. It isn’t like I expect her to keep the conversation flowing. I’ve never really had friends before. I used to think it was because nobody knew how to deal with the sick girl or the girl who lost her twin, but no one here knows any of that.

Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s better. Kaiden is doing me a favor by making sure everyone leaves me alone.

When I’m changing in gym, one of the girls whispers when she sees the light purple bruise on my arm. Nobody can tell it’s a palm print, but it wraps around the skin like one.

I never bruised so easily before. Once I fell out of a tree Lo and I were climbing and only got a little scratch. Now it takes someone accidently bumping into me in the halls for little ones to pop up on my body. The first time I noticed them was a few weeks before moving in with Dad. I bumped my hip into the wall and noticed a large blue and purple mark that night. Grandma playfully swatted me with her crossword puzzle one time. An ugly brown bruise formed.

Frowning, I tug on my sleeve until it’s hidden. The last thing I need are rumors spreading about some sort of abuse at home. There was a boy at my old school who lied about his mother hitting him and when Child Protective Services got involved, a lot of bad things happened.

I may not be happy where I am, but I’m content. Sometimes that’s better than nothing.

The gym teacher has us do four laps around the room. I’m out of breath by the first one, while everyone speeds past me. Girls laugh in their groups over unknown gossip, boys joke about the girls. They mostly ignore me other than to move around my turtle-pace form.

I walk the last two despite everyone else moving on to the lesson. My last gym teacher wouldn’t have allowed that, but I’m grateful they pay my red face and heaving body no attention. I could get a note and excuse myself from even bothering with this class, but I don’t want to.

I want to be normal.

Even if normal is being laughed at for being slow, or missing the basketball hoop, or only doing one sit-up, I’m okay with that. Most of the time people do their own things and talk with their friends, so it isn’t like I have to worry about being the but

t of everyone’s jokes.

But that’s probably not because they don’t want me to be. It’s because of—

“Mr. Monroe,” Mr. Jefferson says.

My head snaps up to see Kaiden standing at the side entrance of the gymnasium. He’s watching me, facial expression seemingly angrier than usual.

“I need to speak with Emery.”

Mr. Jefferson glances at me before turning back to Kaiden. “Regarding?”

“Family emergency.”

My heart races as I quickly walk over to him. The teacher waves us off as we head toward a side hallway rather than the main office across the hall.

Is Cam okay? Dad? The last time this happened, Mama showed up tear stricken with Grandma. They signed me out and took me to the hospital where the school had sent Logan after an episode she had during class. I didn’t feel anything—no twin telepathy or tugging. I felt like I failed her that day.

I can taste my anxiety. It’s choking me as Kaiden leads us down the corridor leading to empty classrooms and janitor closets. He stops when we get to a little alcove beneath the back stairwell leading to the second story high school wing.