Ungifted (5 page)

Cynthia made a visible effort to calm down. “No, I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. It’s just—you were right about him being trouble. He has a really bad reputation.”

“I can see why,” I said, shivering at the memory. “He was all over me at first, and when I freaked out he backed off and apologized for being so forward.”

Cynthia froze, completely puzzled, and shared yet another meaningful look with Ethan, who seemed just as confused. He joined us at my desk again. “You
refused
Andrew De La Cote’s advances?” he asked in complete disbelief.

And here I thought I couldn’t be any more humiliated in front of Ethan. “Of course I did. I’m not that kind of girl.” I wished it had come out as an angry shout and not an embarrassed whisper.

“Grace, he didn’t mean it like that.”

I couldn’t believe Cynthia was defending Ethan. It made me feel the need to explain myself again. “I was so creeped out that I made the mistake of telling my dad about him. It sent his goons into crisis mode. You were there,” I said, frowning at Ethan. “They practically put the whole hospital on lockdown. Now my dad’s forcing me to get my own security detail. They’re interviewing people all afternoon.”

“Your dad’s hiring you a bodyguard?” Ethan asked.

I slumped back into my chair. “You don’t have to sound quite so excited.”

I never realized how many classes
I had with Ethan until he helped me get my gimpy self from first period to second period and then from second to third. He was carrying all my books and still managed to catch me when I fell. But at least this time tripping wasn’t my fault, because some kid had kicked my crutch out from under me. I thought Ethan was going to murder him, and I’m pretty sure so did the guy.

“It’s a good thing we have every class together,” he said after he made the boy who’d tripped me apologize and sent him on his way. “I don’t think you’d survive the day without help. How long do you have to be on crutches?”

I ignored the dig and just said, “Six weeks.”

“Is that why you’re so down today? Or are you upset about Andrew? What exactly happened with him, anyway?”

It was the first time he’d brought up Andrew since my conversation with Cynthia—who I wished were here now to deflect Ethan’s attention. I would have rather told Ethan I was in love with him than talked with him about Andrew. Instead of answering his question, I asked, “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

I’d meant to make him uncomfortable because of the way he was torturing me, but I didn’t know my question would piss him off so much. It took him a minute before he could respond. “Why? Obviously you’re not worried I’m in love with
you
.”

Actually, I was leaning more toward an in-the-closet theory. “No. I was just curious because it doesn’t make sense for you to be single when you could probably have any girl in this school.”

Ethan’s good mood was back for a split second as he glanced down the hallway at all the girls we were passing. Most of them were smiling at him and scowling at me. But then he looked at me again and his smile vanished. “Except you,” he said.

“Except me what?”

“You’re right. I
could
have any girl in this school. Any girl except you.”

Astonished by the anger in his voice, I asked, “Am I supposed to feel bad about that? I’m sorry, Ethan. It’s not like I can help it. I just don’t like you like that.” Or at all, really. “I don’t understand why it bothers you. You don’t like me, either, so why should you care what I think?”

Ethan stopped in the doorway of our third-hour class and whirled on me. “You are impossible!”

He shoved my books at me so hard I dropped my crutches and stumbled backward. The person coming in the door behind me yelled, “Watch it, Disgrace!” and shoved me hard enough forward that I fell on my face. The entire class laughed and people stepped over me on the way to their seats, knocking me back down if I tried to stand up, until Cynthia showed up and helped me to my feet.

I learned a long time ago that crying only makes things worse, but as I plopped down in my seat and felt Ethan’s hateful glare from across the room, that was the closest I’d come to it in years. Cynthia tried to talk to me, but I just shooed her away to her own seat and thanked my lucky stars when the teacher walked in the room and turned out the lights. A nice, long, boring video would help me get control of myself before I had to deal with lunch and Cynthia’s questions.

“I have a surprise for you today,” our teacher, Mrs. Wilson, said cheerfully. “Since I know you all missed it, I recorded last night’s presidential debate!”

The entire class groaned collectively, and mine was the loudest groan of all.

“Aw, come on, you guys. It’s not every year we get to go through a presidential election while taking government. And especially to be so lucky as to have the daughter of one of the candidates in class with us.”

Suddenly everyone was looking at me. I sunk down in my chair and said, “Can’t I test out of this class or something?”

Mrs. Wilson laughed. “I’m afraid not, Grace, but we would really appreciate any insight you have for us since we didn’t get to hear your speech yesterday.”

The weight of everything that happened yesterday, plus Ethan’s glare burning a hole in my back, along with all of the laughter in the classroom finally got to be too much and I snapped. Instead of mumbling a short version of the speech I’d prepared for yesterday, I went back to work on my Count Andrew drawing and said, “Insight? Okay, how about this? My dad’s an asshole. Vote for the other guy.”

Everyone in the room let out a gasp and then the laughter started again. Mrs. Wilson tried to quiet everyone down as she looked at me. “Grace,” she said with more concern in her voice than anger, “you know that kind of language isn’t permitted here.”

I didn’t bother to look up from my cast. I didn’t want to see the looks on anyone’s faces. “Sorry, but I could only think of a handful of words to describe him, and I promise you all of the others were much worse.”

The class was roaring now, and I finally looked up to meet Mrs. Wilson’s eyes. “Detention, right?” I asked her. “That’s a first. I hope it pisses him off.”

Mrs. Wilson surprised me by smiling instead of frowning. It was a smile full of pity. “Actually, Grace, I know this isn’t like you, so I’m sending you to the guidance counselor instead of detention.”

Mrs. Wilson held out a slip of paper to me and then asked for a volunteer to help me with my books and make sure I got there safely. One guess who my escort was.

“I’m sorry, Grace,” Ethan apologized once we were in the empty hall.

“Sorry for knocking me over, or sorry for getting mad at me because I’m the only girl in this school that doesn’t worship you?”

Surprisingly, it was getting easier to argue with Ethan. Probably because he made me so mad.

“Both,” Ethan mumbled. “Except I wasn’t mad at you, I was just frustrated. You make it very difficult to help you.”

“There’s an easy solution to that,” I said.

“I can’t just leave you alone. There’s something seriously wrong with you. You haven’t been yourself for about a month now, and you’re getting worse.”

“That’s not…” He was dead on. I was so shocked I couldn’t string a whole sentence together. “I—I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. I know you’re not all right. I can feel it.”

“What?” I gasped.

Ethan looked as startled as I was by his choice of words. “I mean I can
see
it,” he said quickly. “It’s obvious. Even Mrs. Wilson sees it, or I’d be taking you to the principal’s office right now.” Ethan stopped walking and stared at me with determined, searching eyes. “Tell me what’s going on with you, Grace.”

“I—I—” My face burned as Ethan waited for me to spill all my private struggles to him. Like I needed that! I was already a pathetic mess in his mind. Did he really need to know what my home life was like, too? “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m just not comfortable talking about this with you.”

Ethan looked up at the door we now stood in front of and sighed, suddenly as frustrated with me as he’d been before class. “You should take this visit seriously,” he told me. He headed back to class without so much as a good-bye.

. . . . .

Lunch was half over by the time Dr. Carroll let me escape the guidance office. He wasn’t so bad, I guess. I mean, at least he’s a real psychiatrist and not some hack sports nut who needed a position at the school in order to coach the volleyball team or whatever. (Atherton Prep Academy spares no expense.) It was nice to talk to him, though I couldn’t exactly take him seriously like Ethan suggested when he’d spent half the interview asking if the White House would be needing a full-time psychiatrist on staff, and did I want to take a copy of his résumé with me?

I was tempted to just go straight to my pre-calc class, but Cynthia and I didn’t have any more classes together the rest of the day. I knew she would kill me if I didn’t come find her first, so I headed to the cafeteria.

I expected to find Cynthia with her family. She has seven brothers and no sisters. They’re a very close, protective family, but she only hangs out with them when I’m not around. She talks about them sometimes, but we never hang out with them, and I mean
never
. Cynthia and I have been friends for over a year now, and I’ve never even been over to her house.

She says she keeps us separate because she doesn’t want any of them realizing how awesome I am and stealing me away from her, but I think she just needs a break from all the testosterone. She may be an overwhelming ball of energy, but her brothers make her look like a church mouse.

I was still about five or six feet away from them when I saw that Cynthia wasn’t there. I tried to escape unnoticed, but the second I turned my back on them their laughter stopped.

“Leaving so soon, Grace?”

Cynthia’s brothers were very intimidating—even the younger ones. They were always laughing and goofing off, but were somehow still dangerous. Most people avoided them. I’ve certainly never complained about Cynthia’s desire to keep us apart.

The one who’d spoken to me was the oldest—a senior named Preston. Preston was definitely the scariest of the group. The Layton brothers didn’t respect any authority at school except for his. I didn’t know a lot about him, but I knew it wasn’t good to have his attention.

I took a breath, trying to calm myself, and then turned to face him with the best fake smile I could manage. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you guys. I was just looking for Cynthia.”

There were four of them present at the moment—the younger three still ate lunch in the early shift with the little kids—and all of them except Preston were holding back laughter. My smile wasn’t fooling anyone. I was scared of them and they knew it. They enjoyed it.

Preston watched me through narrowed eyes, even though the smile never left his face. “Cynthia’s not here at the moment.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Like I said, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I guess I’ll try the library or something.”

The second I turned my back on them, I was whisked off my feet into a strong pair of arms. The only reason I didn’t have a heart attack was because the one who had me cradled against his chest momentarily was Cynthia’s twin, Caleb. He still scared me to death, but of the bunch he frightened me the least because I knew he and Cynthia were very close.

“You didn’t think we’d let you get away that easily, did you?” he asked as he sat back down at the lunch table with me clamped tightly in his arms. He sounded playful but had an edge in his voice that made my anxiety spike.

I tried to scramble away, mortified that he was holding me in his lap, but he refused to let me. All of them laughed as they watched me struggle.

“What’s the rush, Disgrace?” Cynthia’s brother Peter asked. Peter was only a year younger than Cynthia, Caleb, and me—and he was by far the most obnoxious.

“Yeah,” the youngest of the big kids, thirteen-year-old Brett, agreed. “You just got here. Stay and play with us for a minute.”

“Come on, you guys. Let me go, please? Cynthia wanted me to find her before lunch is over.” My voice was shaking now despite my best efforts.

“Cyn’s just going to have to deal,” Caleb said. “Our mom always taught us to share, and our sister needs the practice.”