Page 29 of Tell Me When It's Over

Chapter Nine

Leighton / Age 12

Tugging on the hem of my pleated skirt and flattening the off-white button down covering my torso, I glance at the horde of students packing the hallways. For the first time since being enrolled at Saint Michael’s, I’m glad that uniforms are required. Nobody stands out because of the price tag on their clothes.

Memorizing my schedule, I head toward the hallway that leads to my first period class, homeroom, that Mia and Kyler showed me last weekend. A few others linger outside the door and pay me no attention. Considering my lack of sleep from obsessing over what people would think of me, the results are blissfully anticlimactic.

Roll call offers me no strange looks, and I learn by third period that I’m the fourth new student in the seventh grade this year. According to the gossiping redhead with freckled cheeks who sits in front of me, two of those new students are on scholarship. Based on the twisted expressions of her and her friend, I think that’s a bad thing and I’m sort of grateful that Mr. Bishop is paying my tuition in full. I don’t tell anyone that when they ask me about myself. As far as they know, I’m Leighton Grier with no connections that are worth a semblance of popularity and no special traits worth becoming friends over.

I’m walking down the hallway toward the south wing where the cafeteria is when I see a group of girls surrounding another one by a set of lockers. I know from the two seconds I focus in on the dark-haired one in the middle that they’re not friends. Swallowing, I pause and consider my options. I don’t want any trouble, especially not on the first day. I’m not the kind of person who likes confrontation, even if I’ve been where that girl has.

The girl being surrounded looks at me with wide eyes behind her thick glasses and I…I walk away. It doesn’t sit well with me the rest of the day. I don’t eat anything, I barely focus in my afternoon classes, and I go back to the nice condo Mom and I live in wondering what happened to her. If she’s okay. What would have happened if I’d stepped in.

Mom asks me about my day once I set my new messenger bag down that Mia bought me. It’s black leather and looks more expensive than everything in my closet combined, so I plan on taking good care of it. “I saw the pictures online, Leighton. It’s a beautiful school.”

“It is.” The architecture is all very gothic and old, and I love it. Just not enough to forget about the rest of my day. I don’t tell her about the girl, only about the classes I’m in. Some, like English, that I like more than others. She seems to listen to me, nodding every once in a while as she lays an outfit down on her bed.

I could ask her about her day, but I don’t want to listen to the same thing. How it’s hard to find a job, which I doubt since I saw at least ten help wanted ads in the paper that was delivered, how she’s excited to visit the city, which she’s done every day with or without me, and how she and Mr. Bishop have been “catching up” more. I don’t know what to do with that, so I leave it be.

Instead, I go to my room and change out of my uniform. I have three identical outfits, though Mia told Mom I should have at least five just in case. I know we can’t afford it because Mr. Bishop told Mom she’d have to pay for them herself. I know I’m lucky to have three and not one that I have to be careful not to dirty.

When the phone rings sometime later, Mom tells me it’s for me. There aren’t many people who know our new number, so I walk into the living room where she’s holding the phone out impatiently with a look of confusion across my face. I expect her to tell me it’s someone from home. Maybe Anna asking how Saint Michael’s is.

So, I’m surprised when Mom shoves the phone in my hand and says, “It’s Kyler Bishop.”

I nearly drop the receiver. Why would Kyler be calling me? There must be other people who would be a lot more fun to talk to.

Wearing a green wrap dress and nude heels that make her look at least three inches taller, Mom grabs her purse and heads toward the door. “I’ll be back later. There’s food in the fridge you can heat up.”

She doesn’t tell me goodbye or ask me to lock up before closing the door behind her. I’m used to it though. Just like I’m used to the frozen food that I make myself, or the leftovers from the dinner she attempts to make that I sometimes throw out.

“Hello?” a voice says from the phone dangling from my hand. Snapping out of it, I bite into my bottom lip and press it to my ear.

“Hello.” My barely audible voice cracks and I wince at myself, but I’m not sure what else to say. Kyler Bishop, a well-known singer, is calling me. I try again. “Hi, Kyler.”

“Figured I’d see how thin

gs went today.”

I blink. He…what? “You want to know how school was?”

The pause is hearty. “Yeah.”

I look at the door my mother just exited before slowly sitting on the couch. It’s a lot nicer than the ones we used to have. Suede, I think. This one is a light brown, almost beige, and doesn’t have any stains, cigarette burns, or funny odors coming from it like our old one. I’ve taken naps on it after falling asleep watching TV, another first. We haven’t always had cable, so I’ve been watching shows I never got to before.

“It was…good.” I want to tell him about the girl like my guilty conscious demands or else I might burst, but what would he think of me? In the few short months that I’ve been here, we haven’t become that close. He hasn’t been late to another Sunday dinner, and sometimes him, Mia, and I meet in the middle of the week and watch movies in their huge media room. He’ll make popcorn, Mia will argue about the movie choice, and I’ll pretend like I fit in. I don’t. Neither of them says that though. Still, I wouldn’t consider myself best friends with either of them, not that I expect to gain that title anytime soon. Or ever, even.

“Lenny?” The name brings me back to the current conversation we’re having, and a small smile plays on my lips. They called me Leighton the first few times we hung out because it’s all they heard Mom address me as. But I admitted I preferred Lenny, so they don’t call me Leighton as much unless they’re scolding me for something. Like the time I stayed in the kitchen when they had a few people over because I wasn’t sure if they wanted me around. Turns out, they did.

My hand flattens on the cushion. “I’m here. Um, how was your day?”

His chuckle is low and I’m not sure what I said that amused him. “Forget about me. I want to know what you thought of Saint Michael’s.”

Sinking into the couch, I prop my feet on the edge and think about the day, absently staring at the little puppies on my socks. Classes here seem more intense than my old school, the kids aren’t very friendly but not totally rude, and their food is way better. I find myself telling him all of those things, only lying about lunch, saying I had a sandwich from the mini deli station to make it seem believable, and mentioned two different girls who’d spoken to me in the afternoon. Neither asked for more than my name and where I moved from.

Kyler tells me it’s a start.

After a while, he asks, “You going out to eat with Harry and your mother? I overheard him tell Mia he was seeing Katherine tonight.”

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