Gia Cribbs - The Disappearance Of Sloane Sullivan

I gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. Superhero Sawyer has a nice ring to it.”

Sawyer grinned and Jason rolled his eyes and my mind kicked into overdrive.

Everything was riding on making it through this placement without a hitch. The alternative, not lasting only nine weeks in such a large school, hadn’t seemed possible before today. I’d taken the SAT and filled out college applications as Sloane Sullivan months ago, before I even became Sloane Sullivan. I’d used a fake transcript painstakingly created from classes I’d actually taken, with grades I’d actually received, because I was tired of working hard for good grades that became pointless every time I became someone new. I was determined to get into college on my merit, like a normal person would. Well, as normally as I possibly could anyway.

And if we left North Carolina now, all my planning would be for nothing. Because Sloane Sullivan wouldn’t exist anymore. I’d have to reapply as the girl I became next, and all the application deadlines had passed. Which meant I’d have to wait another year to apply to college. Another year to get out of WITSEC. Another year to start my life.

I couldn’t wait another year.

Besides, disappearing had been the safest thing to do when there was no end in sight. When the threat of someone coming after me was more real. Now things were different. Thanks to the confession, the threat was basically nonexistent. And I was just a few weeks shy of getting out anyway. All I had to do was turn eighteen, graduate and have college lined up and ready to go. Those were Mark’s conditions, and I was so close. Too close to let it all slip away by following the rules this time.

Livie groaned and released my hand to shove Sawyer gently into the bank of lockers. “There is no such thing as a ‘superhuman ability to attract hotties.’”

Jason glanced at me, one eyebrow raised and eyes sparkling. Even though I knew it was only his amusement at Sawyer’s made-up superpower, it looked almost like a challenge. And just like that, my mind was made up. I was going to stay. I was going to convince Jason I wasn’t the girl who used to live next door. I was going to get out of WITSEC on time.

No matter what.

Three

I surveyed the cafeteria. Hundreds of voices floated through the air, wrapping around me like a cocoon. This was normally the part of my first day where I’d hang back and observe so I could find the perfect group to join: the one not too big and not too small; not overly popular, but not outsiders; not so involved in school activities as to draw attention to themselves, yet not so anti-school they stood out. Then I’d emerge from my cocoon as the girl I was going to be. The type of girl that, no matter who she was, would steer clear of anyone who looked at her with even the tiniest hint of familiarity. But this time was different.

This time I had a First Day Buddy who swore eating lunch together was a nonnegotiable part of the First Day Buddy contract. Which meant this time I’d be sitting with the only person in almost six years who knew the real me.

I eyed the table of artsy-looking kids across the room and sighed. They were laughing and teasing each other, saying hello to people walking by yet ignoring the attempts of the table of guys beside them to engage in some sort of food fight. I’d been artsy before, I could do it again. And sitting with them—acting like I not only didn’t know Jason, but had no desire to get to know him—was the safest way to convince him I wasn’t the girl he possibly remembered, the girl he’d grown up with. Instead, I was about to have lunch with him.

I took a deep breath. It was just one lunch, just one first day to get through, then I could get back to my plan of lying low. You can do this. But first, I needed something to eat.

I grabbed a tray and followed the familiar scent of cafeteria food to the open area at the back of the room where lunch ladies with hairnets were serving the day’s options. The pizza looked surprisingly good, but it had a line at least fifty people deep. My stomach rumbled, protesting the wait. I went to the other end of the counter and thanked the lunch lady for a plate of what appeared to be roasted chicken, salad and a glop of orange mush. I wrinkled my nose.

Someone chuckled. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Startled, I turned to find the tall a cappella guy standing next to me. I stared for a second, mesmerized by his piercing green eyes. Then I quickly peered back at the orange goop. “What is it?”

“Mashed sweet potatoes.”

I wrinkled my nose again.

He laughed, flashing two dimples. “I’m glad I came over. Now I have something else to call you.”

I tilted my head in confusion.

“I’ve been referring to you as New Girl in my head all morning,” he clarified. “But now I can add Hater of Sweet Potatoes to the list.”

“Ah.” I took a step closer to him to avoid the line forming for the chicken, glancing around at the same time. No one seemed to be paying any attention to us. “And what should I call you?” I pointed at his empty hands. “Disrespecter of Lunch Trays?”

He grinned. “I already bought my lunch. I came over just to talk to you.”

A wave of apprehension flowed through me. This better not be some kind of prank on the new girl.

“I saw your collision this morning and just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said with a shrug. “I thought maybe you could use a friend who isn’t trying to body slam you.”

Okay, not what I was expecting at all. “You saw that, huh?”

“You know, maybe I should call you Receiver of a Completely Uncalled-For Hallway Football Smackdown. Believe it or not, that’s not the way most of us welcome a new student.”

A tiny smile formed on my lips. “Maybe I should be Creator of the Full-Contact First-Day Meet and Greet. Guaranteed to get you up close and personal with your new classmates.”

He bit back his own smile. “Actually, I was hoping you’d be Needer of a Place to Sit?” He nodded at a table over his shoulder that was surprisingly empty.

My reply was interrupted by a husky voice shouting, “There you are!” over the cafeteria chatter. I turned and saw Sawyer rushing over.

Sawyer placed his hands on my shoulders. “Livie was afraid you got lost. Come on, you can pay over here and then I’ll show you to our table.” He nodded at the a cappella guy and muttered, “Hey, man,” before steering me away.

I peeked back over my shoulder.

“Watch out for flying sports equipment!” the guy called after me.

I grinned until I spotted a girl with a short black pixie haircut glaring at me from a nearby table full of girls now watching me. I knew what that glare meant: Mr. Welcoming Committee probably once belonged at that table and according to its current occupants, he was off-limits. The smile disappeared from my face.

“What do you want to drink?” Sawyer asked, drawing my attention back to him. “Water, juice, milk?”

“Water.” I pressed my lips together, annoyed at myself for forgetting I was in ground zero of high school social cliques. I already had Jason to deal with. I didn’t need any other complications.

Sawyer placed a bottle of water on my tray and took the tray out of my hands. “Let me pay for this.”

“What? Sawyer, no.” I tried unsuccessfully to pry the tray away from him.

He pulled a card out of his pocket and held it against a scanner by the cashier. “Already done.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I protested as I followed him across the cafeteria.

“I was the one who convinced Jason to play football this morning. This is my way of apologizing.” He shrugged, but his expression showed he considered it something more than an apology.