Page 34 of All Along The Watchtower

I just had to decide whether I actually should.

CHAPTER 17

PEYTON

I hunched lower in my seat, pretending to read my history textbook while feeling twenty pairs of eyes burning into my back. Second day at Sutter’s Ferry Middle School, and I was already the main attraction in this small-town freak show.

“That’s her,” someone whispered two rows over. “Ford Donoghue’s secret kid.”

I gripped my pencil tighter, focusing on the page about the Revolutionary War that I wasn’t actually reading. The whispers followed me everywhere—hallways, cafeteria, even the bathroom. It was the same song, different verse from what I’d experienced in Oregon. Back there, I’d been the girl with the dead mom. Here I was the secret baby who showed up out of nowhere. The girl whose dad didn’t even know she existed until last week.

At least in Oregon, people had waited until I was out of earshot to talk about me. Nobody here had gotten up the nerve to talk to say anything directly to my face, but everywhere I went, I heard conversations starting and stopping abruptly when I came into the room that way that said everyone was for sure talking about you.

I wanted to pull up my hood and hide until the day was over, but that wasn’t an option. Hoods weren’t allowed up in class. It was part of the dress code.

Stupid rules.

The clock on the wall tick tick ticked, counting down to lunch period. That was a whole other nightmare. I didn’t have anybody to sit with, and no part of me wanted to run the gauntlet of finding somewhere to sit that didn’t encroach on some pre-existing group’s space. Maybe I could go to the library and find a quiet corner to read. I could inhale my sandwich on the way. Would I get in trouble for that?

The bell rang before I’d figured out my plan. Damn it.

I shoved my history textbook and spiral notebook into my backpack, trying to be quick about it. The faster I could get out of here, the better chance I had of finding some hiding spot before the lunch rush.

“Hey, you’re the new girl, Peyton, right?”

I froze, one hand still gripping my math folder. A girl with dark curly hair tied back in a ponytail was looking at me from the next row over. She had freckles scattered across her nose and was wearing a bright yellow sweater that somehow didn’t make her look like a walking banana.

I nodded, waiting for whatever was coming next. Probably some nosy question about my dad or why I’d shown up out of nowhere.

“I’m Madison.” She smiled, revealing a set of blue braces. “You looked kind of lost yesterday at lunch.”

“Yeah, well...” I shrugged, not sure what else to say. Was she making fun of me?

“Why don’t you come have lunch with us?” She hitched her own backpack higher on her shoulder. “We sit by the windows in the corner. The table’s not super crowded or anything.”

I blinked, trying to process what was happening. This girl—Madison—was actually inviting me to sit with her? Not because she wanted dirt on my situation, but just... because?

“For real?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Madison laughed, but it wasn’t mean. “Yeah, for real. Unless you’ve already got plans?”

“No, no plans.” A warm feeling spread through my chest. “Yeah, thanks. That would be... thanks.”

“Cool. Come on, then.”

As we walked out of the classroom together, I remembered what Ford—my dad... that was still weird to think about—had said last night about how he was always the guy who befriended the new kid when he was in school. Maybe he wasn’t totally wrong about how things worked here.

I followed Madison through the hallway, dodging clusters of students rushing to lunch. She, of course, knew exactly where she was going. She’d probably lived here her whole life. I’d gotten a tour before I started, but I was still getting my bearings.

“So the middle school and high school share a campus.” Madison gestured vaguely to our right as we passed a set of double doors. “All their buildings are on that side, and ours are over here. We share common areas, like the cafeteria and gym, though.”

“That’s... efficient, I guess?” In Oregon, our schools had been completely separate.

Madison shrugged. “Small town. It’s cheaper than building two of everything. The high schoolers have different lunch periods than us, so we don’t really run into them much. Except sometimes in the gym if PE schedules overlap.”

We turned a corner, and I tried to mentally map our route. Yesterday I’d just followed the crowd, but I still felt disoriented. Every hallway looked identical—beige walls, blue lockers, motivational posters about perseverance and teamwork.

“Is it weird having a dad who just... appeared?” Madison immediately clamped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry! My mom says I have no filter. You don’t have to answer that.”

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