Аманда Хокинг - Switched

“Sorry,” I repeated and looked down at my yogurt, stirring it slowly. “I talked to Ms. Page and I promised I would try harder.”

“We’ve heard that before,” Maggie said wearily.

“Well, yeah… but I am really trying,” I insisted and looked to Matt for help. “I mean, I actually promised Matt this time. And I’m making a friend.”

Maggie tried not to let on how much that simple fact delighted her. She wanted to hang on to her anger so she could punish me, but she looked to Matt to corroborate my story.

“She was actually talking to a guy. They were smiling and everything,” Matt admitted.

“Like a guy guy?” Her smile was growing and I could tell she was on the brink of gushing. The idea of this guy being a romantic prospect hadn’t crossed Matt’s mind before, and he suddenly tensed up, looking over at me with a new scrutiny. Fortunately for him, that idea hadn’t crossed my mind either.

“No, nothing like that,” I shook my head. “He’s just a guy. He’s kind of goofy, I guess. I don’t know. He seems nice enough.”

“Nice? Goofy?” Maggie really wanted to hug me. “That’s a start! And much better than that anarchist with the tattoo on his face.”

“We weren’t friends,” I corrected her. “I just stole his motorcycle.

While he happened to be on it.”

Nobody had ever really believed that story, but it was true. To this day I couldn’t really explain how I had done it. I had just been thinking that I really wanted his bike, and then I was looking at him and he was listening to me. I don’t know. At any rate, that story is exactly how I lost my driver’s license.

Theoretically, Maggie could’ve gotten a lawyer and fought it, but she thought I deserved it. Besides that, I think both she and Matt felt safer knowing I couldn’t drive.

“So this really is gonna be a new start for us?” Maggie couldn’t hold back her excitement any longer. Her blue eyes had started to well with happy tears, and I did my best to try not to look irritated by her obvious joy. “Wendy, this is just so wonderful! We can really make a home here!”

With that, she literally squealed and dashed over to me. She hugged me so tightly and so suddenly she almost knocked the yogurt from my hands, but I don’t think she would’ve cared. For the most part, I tended to barely tolerate hugs. I looked reproachfully at Matt over Maggie’s shoulder as she squeezed me to her, but his eyes were warning me not to say anything. I had a habit of ruining moments like this for Maggie, but I had promised to work on accepting them.

“I’m so proud of you!” Maggie gushed into my shoulder. Then she realized she was leaving out Matt, so she loosened her grip on me just enough so she could extend an arm back to him. “I’m so proud of you both! Come on, Matt! Group hug!”

“Yeah, Matt, group hug,” I added dryly and forced a smile.

Matt tended to be just slightly fonder of physical contact than I was, but he smiled and did as he was told. Maggie pulled him in close and we made an awkward tri-hug. Somewhere in the middle of the discomfort, I had actually managed to enjoy myself.

They had given me a study hall fourth period in an attempt to help me catch up on my work, but I had been using it for napping. At one end of the library, buried amongst the reference books and an out dated card catalogue, they had a few round tables scattered about. That’s where study hall was held. The librarian was at the other side of the room, and she would occasionally come check on us, but she didn’t really care what we were doing. The room was massive with insanely high ceilings topped with sky lights, and there was this constant sound of white noise, so she couldn’t hear anything we were saying anyway.

Unfortunately, I had promised to crack down on my studies, so I felt obligated to actually do that. I had briefly considered sitting at a table by myself, but Patrick was already down there, sitting alone, so I thought I had better join him. It was all part of my initiative to fit in and act like a normal teenager. Since I spent most of the time or somewhere else napping, I hadn’t really noticed any of the kids that had study hall with me. That meant that I hadn’t noticed Finn, either, who slunk in a few minutes after I did and took a seat at the table behind me.

“So what are you working on?” Patrick asked me jovially, as if schoolwork were an amusing topic. He had his English book open to The Lottery by Shirley Jackson, a short story I had also been assigned to read. It was like five pages long, but I hadn’t gotten past the title.

“Um, English,” I decided. I needed to read it anyway, and since that’s what he was working on, maybe he could help me. “I have to read that too.”

“It’s pretty weird,” Patrick assured me with wide eyed seriousness.

There was something tremendously innocent about him, and despite myself, I found that kind of endearing. “I’m gonna warn you. I’m a little shocked we read this in school.”

“What do you mean?” I bent over to dig my English text book out of my bag, and I just happened to glance back at the table behind us.

Finn sat by himself, his slender fingers absently straightening out his black hair. He had his head bowed, looking at his biology book, but only for a second. He must’ve sensed me looking at him, because he almost instantly lifted his eyes to meet mine. I wanted to keep looking at him and beat him at his little staring contest, but I failed immediately. Quickly grabbing my textbook, I turned to look at Patrick, who had launched into an explanation of The Lottery.

“Its just so disturbing,” Patrick shook his head. “I know it’s mostly an allegory, but… I just can’t believe that people would ever be like that. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just naïve.”

“People are pretty disturbing,” I shrugged. I was trying to keep my mannerisms and my conversations nonchalant, but it was hard to act natural when I knew I had an audience, in the form of Finn staring at the back of me.

“You think so?” Patrick’s forehead creased in confusion and concern.

Something about my tone of voice had given away too much. Plus, I think I had that face that kind of screamed “emotionally damaged.”

“Yeah, I’d say so.” My hand instinctively went to my stomach, where the foot long scar was safely hidden underneath my shirt. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I pulled it a way and busied my hand with twirling a stray hair around my fingers.

“Is that why you transferred here?” Patrick asked.

“Cause people are disturbing?” I smiled, purposely hedging his question.

“No, I don’t know,” Patrick laughed and ran a hand through his thick hair. “That’s probably too personal, anyway. Sorry.”

“No, it’s not that personal,” I lied.

Truthfully, it wasn’t actually that personal. I planned on answering him, but for some reason, I just knew that Finn was listening, even more intently than he had been before. He wanted to know my answer, maybe more than Patrick did, and I shifted uncomfortably. I wanted to steal a look at him out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t without it being incredibly obvious that I was trying to spy on him spying on me.

“No, it’s making you uncomfortable! I’m sorry,” Patrick looked pained and his cheeks showed a hint of blush. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no,” I shook my head again. “I just… I got kicked out.” Instead of hiding things, I decided to go the other route, and I raised my voice. Not so I was yelling or anything, but just loud and clear enough so Finn could hear everything perfectly. That would show him… something. That I wasn’t afraid and I wouldn’t be intimidated.