Page 69 of Feel Free to Scream

I’m glad the doors shut right then, before I can tell him to go fuck himself.

I don’t like him one bit. I decide it has something to do with the fact that he openly leers at me like…well, like Keller. Except I don’t mind with him. Which is its own can of worms.

Keller’s gone from the lounge, so I leave the plate and return to my room to freshen up quickly before heading out to my first class.

27

CLAIRE

My first day flies by. It’s strange that I recognize so many faces already; people stop to greet me, and ask how I’m doing. I only arrived a week ago, but I’m not lost at all.

I don’t know anyone in my classes, but each time, wherever I sit, I find a friendly person happy to make small talk.

This is a good vibe.

I return to the cafe under the library for lunch, but Dez isn’t working today. I don’t see anyone I know, so I opt to catch up on my texts over lunch.

More excuses. Most promises to get in touch later. Idohave a meeting with Lisa after school, so it’s not a lie. I’m rather frustrated by how everyone seems to be telling me I’m evil for not getting in touch for four days. We talked Saturday; it’s only Tuesday. Did they expect daily reports? I understand my grandmother is excited about her surgery and wants to talk, but her implication that I’ve somehow failed all familial duty for being out of reach for a few days annoys me.

I can’t say as much about Noah. Frankly, girlfriends do talk to their boyfriends daily, I’m pretty sure. I’m only avoiding it, because, well, I don’t feel like his girlfriend anymore. I don’t want to be.

Maybe I should just rip the Band-Aid off. Tell him. Yes, I’ll be seen as a very bad person for doing it that way, but aren’t I a bad person for keeping it to myself?

In the morning, I had a statistics class which makes my brain explode even though it’s only the first day. After lunch, it’s economics, followed by the class I’ve been looking forward to all day.

I’ve always done well with numbers, so I know I’ll keep up, but I won’t lie: after my next class—art theory, my selfish elective—I am so annoyed I have to be practical about my field of study. It’s just so much better in every way.

“Didn’t I see you in econ?” a girl behind me asks.

I don’t recognize her, but I nod. “Yeah, I had it at one.”

“Thought as much. We don’t see many people in econandart. You’re going into advertising?”

I blink up at her. “Huh? No. Accounting. This class is just for fun, you know.”

“Cool,” she says, concluding our chat.

But I think about it all the way to the bus station.

Advertising.

Somehow, I never even thought about that as an option. It feels like a real career path, not something likemaybe I’ll sell some art prints one day, who knows, which is Noah’s plan with his degree—along with a guaranteed construction job after graduation.

Advertising does include art design.

Shit, is it too late to add a few classes? I’m on my way to meet Lisa, and give her my schedule.

My mind’s still racing when I reach the stop my phone’s GPS told me to take, right at the edge of town, at the bottom of a long hill. I blink several times. I’ve seen it from afar when I was in town Saturday, but I didn’t realize how crazy-large the houses were. I can barely even see some of them at the end of their long driveways.

The ones closest to the bottom of the hill are almost human-size, but as I walk up and up, they only get more grandiose.

The house I’m heading to is gated and guarded. I buzz in, feeling about the size of an ant as I say, “Claire Fairmont to see Lisa?”

The pedestrian door unlocks.

It’s another fifteen minutes’ walk to the front door.

“Claire!” a beaming Octavia greets me, standing before her mother. “Didn’t I tell you she was as pretty as a princess, Mama! Look!”

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