A Girl Called Dust (3 page)

I wasn’t suicidal. I didn’t want to die. I
wasn’t going to throw myself off a bridge, but no matter how hard I tried, I
couldn’t stop thinking about death. Not even Scarlett could cure me of that.
 

Later that night I rummaged through the
cabinets looking for trail mix. There wasn’t any, so I went for my
next-favorite treat, olives—Manzanilla olives to be exact. Those seemed to be gone
too. I slammed the last cabinet shut.

“Arden, please don’t do that,” Mom said as
she entered the kitchen and pulled a bottled water from the fridge.

“There’s no trail mix or olives,” I
complained. I didn’t ask for a lot. Paige was always begging for designer this
and designer that. I, on the other hand, made my own clothes. I didn’t like
purses and accessories or anything extra hanging on me. I asked for fabric to
make my dresses and maybe every few months a new pair of boots. Asking Mom to
keep trail mix and olives in the house shouldn’t have been a big deal.

“Then you’ll have to make do with another
snack. The pantry’s full, so I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

Mom was going on and on about starving
children, but I tuned her out. The pantry was full of chips and cookies and
things she knew I didn’t eat. She finally stopped talking and placed her bottle
of water on the counter. “Arden, can you just try this year? Try to be more
normal . . . social, I mean. I think it would really help you.”

I didn’t know how many ways I could
explain to her that the reason I only had one friend was because no one else
wanted to be my friend. That wasn’t by choice. Sometimes I did want to please
her. It sucked to have her disappointed in me all the time, but at least she
had my sisters to make her happy. Paige, her social butterfly, was invited to
parties all the time, and her phone rang nonstop. Quinn, the genius, took all
gifted and advanced classes at school. She’d never brought home anything less
than an A+ and, if extra credit was involved, an A++. My grades were okay, but
they were nothing like Quinn’s. My little sisters were hard to contend with.

 “What do you want me to do, Mom?” I
honestly didn’t know how to be any other way.

“Well, for starters, you can let me take
you clothes shopping. You have to be the only teenage girl in America who would
turn down an all-expenses-paid shopping trip.”

I was pretty sure that wasn’t true, but
whatever.

“And,” she continued. “Smile. Don’t look
so sad all the time. Strike up a conversation with someone. Laugh at their
jokes even if they’re not funny. Go to a football game or something. Just be
normal
.”

It was like she was almost pleading with
me at that point. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’d rather stick a
fork in my eye than go to a rowdy football game.

“Okay, Mom, I’ll try. I’ll try to be
normal.”

She kissed me on my cheek and then disappeared
upstairs. What else could I say? I couldn’t tell her I would never be what she
wanted me to be. Not even if I tried.

Chapter Four

I waited at the front of the school for
Fletcher. We’d promised to meet up and walk into the school together, mostly
for my benefit. Fletcher wasn’t nervous about the first day at all. He was
never nervous about anything.

I pulled my compact from the pocket of my
pastel pink dress and made sure I looked my best. Bailey wasn’t the only person
I was trying to impress.

Fletcher discovered my secret last
January. We were in the park sitting on our bench, the one right next to the
fountain. I was writing in my journal while he worked on his social studies
homework.

“You love me,” he said out of the blue.

I stopped writing mid-sentence and glared
at him. “Excuse me?”

“You love me, but you have to stop. I told
you I’m different. That means I can’t love you or anybody that way. Not ever.
It’s just not the way I’m wired.” Then he went right back to his homework and
never said another word about it.

I didn’t know how to take that. First of
all, how had he known? Had I been that obvious? Second, it hurt like hell. Was
he only saying that because he would never see me as more than a friend? Some
part of me hoped to change his mind.

I put my compact away as Fletcher came
strolling up the sidewalk looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Butterflies went wild in my stomach, making me jealous of his calmness.
Whenever he was around, I felt queasy and lightheaded, but in a good way.

As usual, Fletcher wore jeans and a
flannel jacket with a sweater underneath. No matter what the temperature was
like, Fletcher was always dressed for the cold.

He stopped in front of me. “Hello.”

“Hey.”

He looked me up and down, and my cheeks warmed.
“I like that dress.”

“Thanks.” Penelope was the last dress I
had made, and I was proud of her. I knew the compliment was real because
Fletcher never said things unless he meant them—something I loved about him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Not really, but we have to go in
sometime.”

Fletcher nodded, and we headed toward the
building. The mood this year was a lot different from the year before. Last
year, a somberness had filled the air because of Mrs. Chin’s death. This year
girls hugged and squealed while boys high-fived each other. People did have the
decency to lower their voices when they passed the memorial garden dedicated to
our fallen teacher.

“I have Spanish Two first period,”
Fletcher announced.

I pulled my schedule from the front pocket
of my backpack. Unfortunately, classes had been the last thing on my mind. I
was too preoccupied with Fletcher, Bailey, and the promise I’d made to my
mother to at least try to be normal. What did that even mean?

 “I have Speech. Yuck.” Speech was an
elective my mother insisted I take because she thought it would help me come
out of my shell. I was about to tell Fletcher how I’d rather be taking Art
Appreciation when Bailey passed us, walking alone. Usually she would throw me a
nod or a smile, some sign of acknowledgement, but when our eyes met, she
glanced away. Okay then.

“Hey, Dust! Nice dress! It looks just like
my great-grandma’s tablecloth!” yelled the most obnoxious creature to ever
grace the halls of Everson High. Several kids passing by laughed as they gawked
at my dress. That burned, because I’d spent weeks on Penelope, and I was proud
of her.

I’d thrown many pennies into the mall’s
fountain wishing for Ranson Duval to transfer to anywhere but Everson, preferably
another country. My wish had been denied.

I hated Ranson almost as much as I hated
Lacey. He was that stereotypical douche bag guy in a horror movie that you
hoped died first, but he keeps living and living. He even had the typical look,
tall with broad shoulders and slicked-back blond hair.

I ignored him, and Fletcher raised his
eyebrows at me before stopping at the water fountain. “You should have said
thank you,” he said after taking a drink. “That’s what you tell me.”

“That wasn’t a compliment. He was being
sarcastic. Ranson would never be giving me a compliment.” As I said, there were
just some things Fletcher didn’t get. Sarcasm was one of them.

The warning bell rang, letting us know
there were five minutes until first period. My heart sank a little, because it
was time for Fletcher and I to separate. “Let me see your schedule.”

Fletcher dug into his pocket and produced
a folded sheet of paper. I compared his schedule to mine. “Oh, we have
third-period American Literature together. So I’ll see you in a couple of
hours.”

He nodded and then turned to leave. “Okay.
Bye.”

“Wait, Fletch. Your schedule.”

He turned back to take it from me. “Oh,
yeah. Later.”

The first half of the day was the typical
first-day stuff—seating charts, class rules, what we would be covering during
the year. Bailey was also in our American Literature class, but she completely
ignored me. Maybe she had gotten to the point where she was going to pretend
that I didn’t exist. As awkward as American Literature was, Speech was hands
down my least favorite class. Mrs. Martin had already informed us that we would
be giving at least two speeches a week, which I found a bit excessive. One a
semester would have been enough.

At lunch I bought a slice of pizza and
bottled water then looked around for Fletcher. He wasn’t hard to find, considering
the fact he was lying on
one of the cafeteria tables. Part of me wanted
to go far away from him and eat my lunch alone, but that wasn’t normal. Normal
would be eating lunch with my friend once I got him to act normal.

Kids passing by stared at him, and a few
laughed, glancing over from their tables, but everyone was used to Fletcher and
his weird shenanigans.

I dropped my tray on the table beside him.
“Fletcher, what are you doing?”

With his eyes closed and his hands folded
on top of his chest, Fletcher looked as if he were lounging in the sun getting
a tan. “The first day of school is draining. I need a recharge.”

“Want some pizza?” I asked, because eating
pizza would force him to sit up, but he shook his head. I should have known.
Fletcher never ate at school.

“Fletcher, please get up. Everyone is
looking at you like you’re crazy.”

He opened his eyes and frowned. “What do I
care what they think?”

Ranson and two of his friends entered the
cafeteria, and the last thing I wanted was for them to come over and draw even
more attention to the situation. “Fletcher, I mean it. Get up right now.”

“No.”

Getting Fletcher to do something he didn’t
want to was nearly impossible. “You know, it’s a beautiful day outside. I think
I’m going to take my lunch out to the picnic tables.” I grabbed my tray and
headed out of the cafeteria, hoping Fletcher would follow and grateful when he
did.

Our school had a picnic area nestled under
a group of willow trees. It was the perfect place to eat when it wasn’t too hot
or too cold out.

I dropped my tray onto one of the few
empty tables. Fletcher sat beside me and drew pictures on his hand. I took a
bite of pizza and pulled my journal from my backpack. Scarlett would definitely
want to know about my first day of school. A loud shrieking sound drew my
attention. Queen Lacey and her bees were perched on top of a table not far away
from us. They never ate outside since they’d staked their claim on the back
left portion of the cafeteria. Hopefully the picnic area wouldn’t become their
new spot for the year, because I liked eating there.

Lacey threw her head back, laughing like
some maniacal villain from the comic books. She gabbed loudly about something,
or probably someone, while the others giggled. I wondered if Lacey had really
said something funny or if the girls were fake-laughing like Mom had suggested
I do. As usual, a group of drooling boys had them surrounded.

Lacey was everybody’s dream girl and newly
single since she and Ranson had broken up over the summer. I was kind of bummed
to hear the news, because the two of them deserved each other.

 I guessed I saw Lacey’s appeal from
a physical standpoint. She had long golden tresses that fell halfway down her
back, clear green eyes, a body to covet, and cheekbones to die for.

“Do you think she’s pretty?”

“Who?” Fletcher was in the middle of
perfecting a spider on his thumb.

“Lacey.” I was always curious about how
Fletcher felt about other girls. He never talked about anyone. If I wasn’t his
type, who was? I didn’t buy his story that he couldn’t be attracted to people.
He just wasn’t attracted to me.

Fletcher glanced in Lacey’s direction then
went back to his drawing. “No.”

I tried not to act surprised, but that was
the first time I’d seen a guy pass up a chance to sing Lacey Chapman’s praises.
“Really?”

“Really. Her head’s too big for her body.
Her body’s too skinny for her head. She looks like a lollipop.”

I stifled a laugh, but an uncomfortable
thought hit me. If he felt that way about one of the most beautiful girls in
school, what did he think about me? I wanted to ask, but I was afraid that his
brutal honesty would crush my already fragile self-esteem.

I finished my pizza and downed my bottle
of water while watching Fletcher design a perfect wasp, grasshopper, and
preying mantis on the back of his hand. That was normal, right?

Fletcher walked me home, as he did every
day after school since we had become friends, even though his house was in the
opposite direction.

He stopped on the sidewalk in front of my
house. The only time Fletcher had come to the door was the day he’d showed me
Mrs. Chin’s body, and he would never come inside no matter how many times I
asked. It had been a few days since I’d asked Fletcher my unrelenting question,
so I thought maybe it was time to ask again. That might have been the day he
would give me the answer.

“Okay, what makes you different? How do
you heal so quickly? Tell me.”

“No.”

I stomped my foot like a spoiled child.
Him telling me no all the time was infuriating. “Why not?”

“You’re not ready to handle it.” He always
said that.

“At least tell me why you think I’m the
one who killed Mrs. Chin.” I mean, the whole thing was as ridiculous as it
sounded.

He shook his head, causing his hair to
fall into his beautiful brown eyes. “You’re definitely not ready for that.”

Over his shoulder, I spotted Quinn coming
up the sidewalk, swinging her backpack around. The elementary school got out
thirty minutes later than the high school because we started earlier.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to stop
hanging out with you,” I threatened.

“No you won’t. You love me.”

I blushed and looked down at the ground. I
had something else I needed to ask him, and I had to do it before Quinn reached
us.

“Um, is my head too big for my body?” I
figured that was safer than asking him if he thought I was pretty. I held my
breath as he looked me up and down.

  
  “No. Your head is perfectly proportioned for your body. You should
be proud. That’s rare.”

My pulse raced as Quinn pushed her way
between the two of us when she could have easily gone around then skipped up
the walkway. “Hey, losers.”

I sighed. Quinn was a brat, but she was
the lesser of the two evils. At least I still had an hour until Paige got home.

Fletcher and I ignored Quinn. “Well,” I
said. “How do you think today went?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad.”

But it hadn’t been that good either. I
managed not to have any contact with Lacey, but being ignored by Bailey
bothered me, even though it shouldn’t have.

“See you tomorrow,” Fletcher said before
turning away.

“See you.” I watched him walk to the end
of the block, then I took my perfectly proportioned head and body inside.