“Hey there,” Cole said warmly. “Join us. Everyone, this is Annalia.” I hesitated, though. I felt unsure and rigid with nerves. I managed a weak smile, hoping I didn’t smell like cleaning supplies. I’d gone to work with my mama that morning and cleaned six disgusting motel rooms before school. If I did still carry the scent of toilet bowl cleaner, hopefully it was subtle enough that no one would notice.
Gathering my courage, I nodded at the people standing around Preston and Cole looking at me curiously.
The group had fallen silent and tension pricked at my skin, a sense of not belonging falling over me like a soggy sheet. I almost turned in the other direction and walked away, but forced myself not to.
“Lia,” Preston said, his voice slightly scratchy. He cleared his throat, holding out his hand to me, and it snapped me from my frozen state. It was only then that I noticed I was the only one not covered by the overhang, the only one getting wet under the drizzling rain.
I let out a quick exhale and took Preston’s hand gratefully, not too nervous to notice the zap of electricity that always went through me at his touch, his nearness. It was both calming and off-putting.
I stepped under the overhang and Preston’s hand dropped from mine, leaving me feeling cold and alone again.
Alicia Bardua had been standing next to Preston and she stepped back, her eyes moving from my head to my feet. From her expression, it was clear she was not impressed. I remembered that long-ago hair fiasco and my fervent desire to look like Alicia—to be her—and felt especially ashamed and embarrassed by her obvious disdain. It was as if she could see inside me and knew the secret longings of my heart. Instinctively, I knew she would use them to hurt me. I felt my cheeks heating and looked away.
“Aren’t you a freshman?” Alicia asked.
I looked back to where she stood and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’m a freshman.”
She shot me an insincere smile. “We were just talking about the prom. I don’t suppose you’re going since you’re not a senior?”
I glanced at Preston whose face seemed paler than it’d been. “Oh. No. I’m not going.”
She smiled, a cunning tilt of her lips. She latched on to Preston’s arm and said, “Well then you probably won’t be interested in this conversation. You should run along to class.” My heart squeezed painfully and I felt slightly sick. Preston was taking Alicia to the prom.
“Jesus, Alicia. Don’t be fucking rude,” Preston gritted out almost at the same time Cole said, “Shut up, Alicia.”
“What?” she asked silkily, shooting daggers at both of them. “I was just trying to save her from the boredom of having to listen to plans she has nothing to do with.”
My whole face felt hot, that sense of not belonging intensifying. I swallowed. God, I’d known talking to Preston and Cole in public was a bad idea. I’d known.
“Annalia—” Cole started to say when Alicia jumped backward, letting out a small shriek.
“Oh my God! Are those bugs on her?”
I sucked in a breath, reactively jumping backward from everyone, too. I glanced down at my white sweater and spotted three bedbugs, large and filled with blood. Oh God, oh God, oh God. No. No, no, no. Panicked, I stripped my sweater off and threw it to the ground, brushing at the light blue tank top I was wearing underneath.
“Oh that’s so disgusting!” Alicia was yelling as she wiped at her own clothing. “Is anything on me? Did she get anything on me?”
Tears of anguish and humiliation sprang to my eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I croaked. Oh God, they must have gotten on me when I was cleaning this morning.
I was always so careful about bringing bedbugs into our home, always stripped my clothes off in the back of the house when I came home from cleaning and my mama generally did the same if her back wasn’t hurting her so much she couldn’t manage it. But I must not have checked myself thoroughly enough before school that morning. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated.
Everyone had moved back, everyone except Preston who came toward me and took my hand. “Come on, I’m taking you to the nurse.”
I pulled free, a shuddery breath escaping. “No. No. You stay here. Please. I don’t want—” I ripped my gaze from his face. He looked tortured, as if this situation was actually hurting him. It increased my shame, causing bile to move up my throat. He’d already withdrawn. Now he’d never want anything to do with me ever again. Oh God, I was going to vomit.
“Wait, Lia,” I heard Cole say as I turned and ran toward Mrs. Stephens’s office. Though I wanted to leave school completely, I had finals that day, and I knew I couldn’t. Despite the fact that I often came to school exhausted from working mornings at the motel, if I was going to graduate in three years, I had to continue to get decent grades, and pass my freshman year-end exams.
When I turned into the small nurse’s office, tears were tracking down my cheeks.
“Annalia, what’s the matter, dear?” Mrs. Stephens was an older woman with short, gray hair and a kind manner. I’d only been to her once before for a small injury when I’d needed a Band-Aid, but I’d liked her immediately.
I stopped in the doorway, staring at her in misery. “I think . . . I think I may have bedbugs on me.”
Her brows furrowed. “Bedbugs?”
I nodded. “I work with my mama in the mornings at a motel, changing bedding and there were three of them on my sweater—”
“Okay, dear, take a seat and I’ll check you over. My goodness, it’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay. I’d humiliated not only myself but Preston and Cole. I’d live in shame forever.
I heard a small sound behind me and turned to see Preston standing in the doorway breathing hard. “Are you all right?”
I looked away. “I’m fine. You can go.”
At this point I was beginning to feel numb. I just wanted to be checked over, go take my final, and go home so I could cry. But Preston came in and sat down on the chair on the opposite wall, leaning forward on his knees and clasping his hands together.
“Stand up, dear, and I’ll check the outside of your clothing. The most important thing, though, is to check your mattress when you get home.”
“I don’t have a mattress,” I said dully. I didn’t look at Preston but I caught him twitch slightly out of my peripheral vision. I couldn’t bother to care that he now knew that embarrassing fact. Could it get any worse? “At least, not one that’s made of material. It’s plastic.”
Mrs. Stephens paused in her perusal of the back of my tank top. “Oh. Well then, you’re probably okay. But it’s still a good idea to wash all your bedding and clothes in hot water and then dry them twice.”
I didn’t bother to tell her that we didn’t have a washer or a dryer, that we used the Laundromat in town, but could only get there every other week or so—and sometimes less often if my mama’s back was really bad.
There was a commotion by the door and then Cole was standing there. “Hey,” he said, “are you okay?”