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“How much are they?”
“Tut-tut.” Mom shakes her head. “You don’t need to know. Go on. Wait for me downstairs—get us a table at L’avenue, yes? I’ll take care of it.”
I narrow my eyes. “Is that a Dolce & Gabbana logo?”
“Go!”
I do as I’m told.
They’re very pretty shoes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I don’t look like me. I don’t even feel like me. I stand taller, more intimidating, as if daring the world to come at me. Who knew all it took was an overpriced piece of footwear.
The pumps subtly echo the colors of the uniform, as if they were made just for me. My mom told me this specific style is called Mary Jane. What shoes have in common with Spiderman’s lover interest, I’ll never know, but I love them all the same. I hadn’t noticed when I tried them on, but their red exactly matches the trim of the Cross blazer. Our skirt is a checkered black and red, and there are thin blue and yellow lines mixed in it. Mom bought me a navy blue wool beret to complete the look when I wasn’t paying attention.
These heels are magic. I even brushed my hair this morning, which is akin to a miracle. I tend to only bother after showering at night. Knowing it’ll bother me if I let it hang loose around my eyes, I braid the front around my head, leaving the back alone.
I like the girl staring back at me in the mirror. She doesn’t even look like a real student—she seems airbrushed, camera ready. The girl doesn’t look much like Nadia Reyes, but maybe I’d like a break from being me. I apply some apple lip balm and smile at my reflection, wondering when the last time I did that was. Some night last summer when I was hanging out with my friends in New York, probably.
I remove the beret before exiting my room. It’s a little too much for my taste. Besides, it doesn’t go very well with my headphones, and those are an essential item for survival.
I wasted too much time this morning to sit down for breakfast. I just grab an apple and a cereal bar, discreetly eating both at the back of the bus before getting off in front of the courtyard.
“Jesus, Nadia!” Sophia’s jaw hangs open. She does a full sweep from my feet to my hair, and blinks. I see her mouth tighten. She doesn’t seem to like what she sees.
Too bad for her. I do.
“What happened!”
I snort. To hear her talk, my changing my shoes and hair might as well be a disaster. “I woke up early.” Ish.
“That’ssonot your style.”
Now she’s getting on my nerves. “Well, tight shirts weren’t yours last year.”
The last bell rings through the school, announcing the start of the class. I take the cue to end this stupid conversation and take my seat. Part of me wants to distance myself from Sophia, but I’d rather avoid the drama so I take my usual place. We don’t exchange a word in class. I’m only half paying attention, fuming and hurt at her attitude. Why is she making a big deal out of a good hair day and a nice pair of shoes?
I know the answer, but it doesn’t make me feel better. She’s insecure. Always has been. She’s made changes that soothed her frayed self-esteem this year, and I suppose comparing her new look to my usual “I don’t give a shit” appearance made her feel better. Seeing me try a little pisses her off.
Fuck her. That’s not how real friends think. Come to think of it, we haven’t been real friends at all this year. It drives home that we were just using each other in our solitude.
It would be a sin to drag these pretty heels, but I take my time making my way to Literature after Italian, gliding in right as the class starts. I keep my headphones on, blasting Ed Sheeran loud enough to burst my eardrums. I rush to my seat, eyes stubbornly fixed on it, refusing to acknowledge Jason seated in the next row.
But I see him. Of course I see him. I even catch Cain smirk, punch Jason’s arm, and tilt his head toward me before leaning back on his chair.
Jason doesn’t pay his friend any attention, his gray eyes fixed on me. He’s not smirking. His entire face has adopted a cold mask that should make me shiver. Everything’s ice, except his gray eyes.
Part of me can’t help remembering his arms around me. I tell that part to shut the hell up and remember literally everything else instead.
I sit, remove my headphones, and pull out my notebook.
“Thanks for joining us, Ms. Reyes. Now please remind us where we left off on Friday.”
We’re almost done with that play, thank god. I hadn’t expected our class to go so in depth about Romeo and Juliet, but we’re barely doing a scene a day. “Romeo had just killed Tybalt, sir.”
“Just so. Now, we’re rapidly approaching the end. Before we get there, I’d like you all to discuss the play today. I want you to pick one character you relate to and analyze their motivation, their hopes and fears. Everyone gets three minutes, and yes, you will be graded on your performance. You have ten minutes to get ready. I encourage discussion between you—ask your friends pertinent questions to ensure their presentation covers as much as possible.”
