Mrs. Collins leans back in her seat and it slightly reclines with her. “Why?”
“Because I have a job waiting for me after graduation if I join the co-op track now.” This would mean finishing out my requirements for graduation in the mornings and filling my electives by working a job in the afternoons.
“I saw that,” she says, unimpressed.
“I’ll be a receptionist at Dave’s Automall.”
Nothing from her.
“It’s a decent job.”
Still nothing.
“Lots of people would be happy to have it.”
“Yes, I agree with that. There are plenty of people who would be happy to have the job and would actually love it,” the lady finally speaks. “But will you be happy working there?”
Now she’s lost me. “What’s happy got to do with it? I won’t be on welfare. Isn’t that your job description? Graduate people so they stay off the government dime?”
I catch the slight tilt of her lips before she hides it. “No, that’s not my job. I’m honestly concerned with your well-being.”
“Sure you are. So are you going to change my track or am I going to have to miss more class because I have to reschedule with Mrs. Branch?”
Mrs. Collins straightens and laces her fingers together on top of her desk. “You have admirable ACT scores.”
“It was a fluke. Like winning the lottery.”
“Three times?”
“Lightning does strike the same place more than once. When I was five, the apartment above mine caught fire twice. Seriously sucked. I had to spend the night at the shelter both times.”
She totally ignores me. “You’ve made the honor roll all three years you’ve been here.”
“I cheat.”
“I highly doubt that.”
I throw my arms out to either side. “What does it matter?”
“Stella, you’re college material. You elected the college prep track when you enrolled here and you’ve stuck with it. Surely the thought of going to college has crossed your mind a few times.”
More than a few, but Joss is right. There’s no such thing as more, and Joss is giving me the best possible opportunity for a future. “I can’t afford it.”
“There are scholarships—”
“But I won’t win,” I cut her off. “And you’re assuming some school will admit me. Look, I’ve been working odd jobs since I was fourteen and before you give me that work-experience-will-look-great-on-a-scholarship-application bull, I’ve worked mostly under the table. Because of that, I haven’t joined one school club or one athletic team or even attended a stinking game. This is the end of the line for me and I’ve got a great shot at a decent job. Don’t screw this up for me because you have a quota to meet.”
“Give the classes you have a month and see if you change your mind.”
I stand so quickly that a few papers fall from her desk. “Are you for real?”
“Listen.” She holds up her palms as if she’s pleading with me for something important, like food. “It’ll take me some time to confirm this job. They’re not on our approved company list to begin with. Let me work on this and while I do, you mull over why you’re making this decision. Don’t abandon going to college without at least trying to see if you can make it work.”
This lady is everything Joss has warned me about. What happens when I hope for more, possibly get into a school, and then figure out there’s no way I can pay for it unless I become an overpriced whore? Know what, if it’ll keep you off my back, you do what you need to do and I’ll do what I need to do. Until then, stay away from me.”
15
Jonah
In the kitchen area behind the lunch line, someone drops enough plates and silverware to wake the dead at the cemetery. It shuts most everyone in the cafeteria up, including the guys at my table. After a few beats, conversation begins again.
Over a plate of chicken strips and tater tots, I watch Stella. She picks at her food today and doesn’t read from one of her paperbacks. Something’s wrong and I crave to know what. She helped me this morning and I want to help her in return. The urge is to push away from the table, cross the room and ask what’s bothering her, but Stella’s made it clear that she expects distance between us at school.
If I’m honest, my life is easier with our relationship on the down low.
Friendship.
Friendship, not a relationship.
But she let me hold her hand in the hallway this morning.
Stella stands, taking her tray with her. She’s never left the cafeteria early before. There’s something majorly wrong. Cooper eyes her and I don’t like it.
“What a freak. Look at her hand—she’s drawing on herself.” He raises his voice. “Try paper!”
Several guys laugh and I glance over at Stella. Sure enough, she’s drawn a rainbow on her hand. It’s like she can’t stop sticking out from the crowd. Stella assesses us out of the corner of her eye and I can’t meet her gaze. She hears the laughter and, what’s worse, she knows I’m with them.
“Cut it out,” I say, but Cooper’s not paying attention to me. He’s nodding his chin to some guy that called his name from across the room.
“Be back.” Then he’s out of his chair.
I scan the cafeteria for Stella, but she’s gone. Hell. She left thinking that I made fun of her. A wave of panic and guilt burns through my veins, but it’s the panic that makes it harder to breathe. Stella’s the only person who helps me through the day—the only person who keeps the nightmares away.