planning out what to say, but then she seems to think better of it and disappears into the crowded hallways without even opening her mouth to me.
In fairness, no one really speaks to me during my first few weeks at Raleigh. A black cloud hangs over my head, my temper ready to flare at any given moment, and the other students make a point of keeping their distance.
I’m pissed that I’ve been transferred from Bellingham. I’m pissed that I have to skate on such thin ice at precious, pretentious Raleigh High, and I’m extra pissed at myself that I can’t seem to get my fucking head screwed on straight. See, I can’t stop thinking about the girl with the baggy t-shirts and the scruffy high-tops. I can’t get her unruly golden-brown hair and her intense, penetrating blue eyes out of my head. Whenever I’m walking from one class to the next, I make a point of not looking, but I always know where she is.
And, most fucked up of all, the more rumors I hear about her…the angrier I get. The girl’s fierce. She’s baring her teeth at the world every time I see her, head held high, a threat in her eyes, like a wolf backed into a corner, ready to fight at the drop of a hat.
I’m getting used to holding my breath around her. Wherever Silver goes, an oppressive tension follows her; you can feel it prickling against your skin like electricity. Without even knowing why or when I made the decision, I’ve realized I’m waiting for something to happen, for a match to strike or a fist to be thrown in her direction…and I’m preparing to raze the whole fucking school to the ground in her defense.
It’s so fucking stupid.
I shouldn’t get involved.
It’s none of my fucking business.
I should walk away and let her deal with her own shit.
Because, as far as I can tell, from all of my silent watching and waiting, it’s pretty clear that Silver Parisi hates me.
“Alex? Hello? What day is it today, hon? ’Cause according to my schedule, it’s Monday, and Mondays are not on your visitation roster.”
Goddamnit. I shake Silver out of my head, trying to focus on the woman in front of me instead, but it’s difficult to really see the social worker. They’re all the same. This woman, Rhonda, is wearing a flamboyant pink shirt with flowers printed all over it, and her earrings are so big they’re resting on the tops of her shoulders, which does separate her from the other clones I’ve had to deal with in the past. At least Rhonda has some sort of personality, which makes for a change, but at the end of the day, she’s still an administrator. A glorified pencil pusher, ticking boxes, thinking in the straightest of lines, unwilling to bend even the slightest amount to accommodate someone else.
“I have to work Wednesdays now, and that bitch won’t let me come by on the weekends.”
Rhonda makes a show of pulling a face; her earrings sway wildly as she jerks in mock surprise. “Firstly, do you think the title, ‘Bitch’ is appropriate when referring to the woman who so graciously agreed to take Ben into her home and care for him like he is her own son?”
I huff out a blast of laughter that can only be described as scathing, shaking my head. “That bitch doesn’t care about Ben. We both know she’s only letting him stay with her because of the paycheck you guys give her at the beginning of every month. And no one asked her to treat him like he’s her son. He’s not her son. I’m his blood, and I should be able to see him whenever I fucking feel like it.”
Rhonda pouts, displeased. I have a knack of displeasing people like Rhonda. Quite a talent, in fact. I can do it without even trying. “You are frighteningly clever, Alex. I know you’re not delusional. I know you’re more than acquainted with the harsh realities of the world we find ourselves in, which is why I’m so confused by the fact that you still expect life to be fair. I am a college graduate with a masters in human psychology. I should be a college professor by now, commanding a ridiculous salary, but because I’m not only black but a woman, I’m entirely unsurprised that I’m sitting here across a table from you, explaining that you cannot just do whatever the hell you please, whenever the