Page 8 of That Pucking New Girl

“You have POTS, right?” Jared asks. At my nod, he shakes his head. I have a feeling he tries not to ask questions he doesn’t know the answer to already. “If it wasn’t your fault, then that means you passed out.”

“Yes. It doesn’t happen all the time,” I hedge.

“If it does, it does,” Rachelle says. “You can’t help it. I did a little research on POTS, but it looks like everyone experiences it differently. We can figure out what kinds of accommodations you’ll need for school together.”

“This doesn’t freak you out?” I ask. “I have migraines which are only semi treated, depression and anxiety, and I’m pretty outspoken once I get comfortable.”

“Okay,” Jared drawls. “That’s not going to scare us away either, Noor. Our family isn’t perfect and it’s honestly pretty fucked up. We all have our problems, the difference is that we’ve figured out ways to tell society to take a hike.”

“Jared has a law degree and took the bar so he can practice when he feels like it,” Rachelle says. “The world has a way of making people’s lives difficult, and the only way to fix it is to fight fire with fire. We all went to a very stuffy school, but we learned how to work the system.”

“Somehow, I doubt this was their intention,” I say, grinning. It’s hard not to smile when they have such a devil-may-care attitude.

“No, I think it was,” Jared says. “We were groomed through education to take over the world. We decided we didn’t want the world, our family is more than enough.”

“Now he’s just being charming,” Rachelle mutters. “It’s true, though. There are some things that are easier to accomplish with money. I have investors, a board, and all kinds of headache inducing adult stuff for this academy. But you know what? It works.”

“So is it all rich people?” I ask, wondering if that’ll be worse somehow than the rundown high school I go to.

“No, it’s not. There’s a large variety of socioeconomic factors,” she says. “From rich to not, the only thing that matters are your grades. The common thread is that a lot of these kids have been in some sort of trouble, but I don’t think they’re dangerous. I have a job at the school as a therapist, and work with students in groups as well as one on one. I try to make sure no one falls through the cracks.”

If possible, the fresh cuts on my thighs ache more, and I shift in my seat.

“As someone who sees people fall through often, I appreciate that,” I say, forcing my palms flat in my lap as I keep myself from crossing my legs. That would be bad and also a tell.

Jared is staring at me intently, and I have a feeling I won’t be able to get away with much at their house.

On the other hand…

“What’s your stance on stronger medication for migraines?” I ask.

“Ah, I need context,” Rachelle says. “You said medication and not drugs, so I feel slightly better about it.”

“I had one small foray with marijuana and it was a bust,” I admit. “I mean migraine medication that’s not just for management but onset pain. My doctors won’t prescribe anything for the pain because they think I’m lying.”

“If we’re having this conversation, then you obviously aren’t,” Jared grunts, pulling out his phone. “What kind of migraine medication?”

“Triptans. I’ve done a lot of research on it, and it could stop my migraine in its tracks in twenty minutes or less.”

Fuck, I don’t want to cry. My lips tremble as I bite them and I can feel the tears burning and trembling at my waterline.

“We’ll find a doctor who will prescribe it,” Jared says, hearing something in my voice as he scrolls through the medication details. “These aren’t habit-forming from what I can see online. There’s no reason not to give this to you unless it’ll affect your condition.”

“Ah, they didn’t say anything about it affecting it. Except for the shot, that could affect my heart so it’s obviously a no-go,” I agree.

Finding out Rachelle and Jared would be willing to help me with this allows me to control my emotions, and I sit a little taller.

“I hate the medical field,” Rachelle sighs. “Sometimes, medication stops working, and it has to be revised. It’s not perfect.”

“We hate the assholes who don’t listen,” Jared grunts, leaving his phone on the table in disgust. “However, the field itself I believe has its uses. Look, Noor. This isn’t going to be perfect, but we’re okay with that. The fun lives in the imperfect.”

“We’ve been talking about adoption for a long time, because we have a perspective others don’t,” Rachelle says. “Life is messy, much like the people who are living it. We’re not looking for someone who fits a certain mold.”

“We’re looking to make things a little easier for someone,” Jared adds. “We live in Santa Barbara, which is about an hour away from here. It could be an issue if you’re leaving friends…”

“I have acquaintances but no friends,” I admit. “Up until a year ago, I was in and out of foster homes. It’s hard to maintain any kind of friendship. It’s easier if I don’t bother.”

“That’s fair,” Jared says. “I grew up with my best friends, and now I live with them. People suck.”