Paying the Piper

Five: Polifayeoxide

"Now that you know that, you'll know how big a breach I'm doing when I tell you this: I can see things like that girl. And I see you for what you are." He leaned in closer. "So maybe you should leave town before I tell everyone else what you are."

Scowling, I bit on my lower lip and gaped at him, this boy who had no reason to assume anything negative about me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said furiously under my breath. My hands balled into fists, and I whirled around, wondering why I had stayed to listen to the entire thing instead of storming off as soon as he said hello.

Quentin called after me, "Just remember it, that's all." Then he walked back into the school building. I couldn't remember if he had lunch with us or not. I hoped he hadn't asked for a hall pass just to track me down to tell me that. I wondered if complaining to the principal about him would do any good.

As I marched down the hallway back to the cafeteria, my anger dissipated when I realized I would have to figure out a place to sit. I hesitated at the edge of the big room, eyes flicking over the tables in the hopes of finding an empty one. Then I caught movement, and focused in to see Ryland was standing and waving at me, gesturing me over with a grin.

I stared at him for an instant too long, the contradictory experience of Quentin trying to get rid of me at odds with this person openly welcoming me. Then my habitual shyness won over, and I ducked my head and slid into a chair at the end of a table. It wasn't empty, but there were empty seats between me and the next people, at least. I dug out the rest of my lunch and tried to taste anything besides the leaden lumps of my new reality.

At least one part of my life seemed positive: Hannah and I had become friends. We only had Government and Gym together, but sitting together after school became as regular as class: ninth period social hour.

"You know, we should make a deal and get a ride home with whoever's ready faster—your mom or my sister."

"Being stuck at school does let us finish some homework, at least." Or it would, if I wasn't trying to do it next to Hannah, who wouldn't stop talking long enough for me to get through more than two Algebra word problems.

"Not this again!" she moaned. "Remember? Homework is called homework for a reason," she added more loudly as another girl joined us. "You should do it at home."

The other girl rolled her eyes. "Maybe you should actually do yours at home, then." Then she nodded to me. "I'm Rhiannon—Rhia—Hannah's sister." My quick glances between the two sisters had to be obvious. I never would have guessed them to be related. Hannah's sister had dark brown hair, fuzzier more than glossy, and her skin was a dark chestnut all the Caucasian girls tried to find by tanning. Hannah, on the other hand, was Nordic winter to her sister's coloring. "Stepsister. Congratulations, you've met the one Black person in Gendormi."

Hannah stuck her tongue out at her sister, even while I stuttered an apology for some kind of social error I hadn't even realized I was committing.

"Don't bother," Hannah said. "She always does that to people. She has to bring up race first as if it's self-defense—as if it's the first thing on everyone's mind even though it's not. Anyhow," she added, cutting off her sister from saying something in response to that, "looks like Rhia beat your mom. Ride with us! We can drop you off."

Rhia just smirked, then headed toward one of the remaining vehicles in the parking lot.

Hannah dragged me after her, taking my Algebra textbook hostage so that I followed. I clambered up into the SUV, never having ridden something this large, and knocked my shin against the step up. Hannah and I were both sitting in the back.