Page 9 of Infinity Chronicles 1
Dante bends down, grabbing my bag from the floor before shoving it at me. I can't tell who exactly he's pissed off at, but I'm guessing everyone, me included.
I pull my bag to my chest and drop my face, ready to head to my next class.
Hours later, in art class, Dante is still aggravated. He tosses his stuff on the table, and his frequent sighs leave no room for doubt. Or maybe this is his everyday attitude and I'm paying more attention. His pencil seems to scratch across his paper instead of the graceful sketching I've noticed before.
“They would probably leave you alone if you didn't make yourself such an easy mark,” Dante mutters in that deep voice of his. I tilt my head, gaining a new perspective. He thinks I asked for those girls to pick on me? I don't bother responding to that.
He drops his pencil and turns to face me.“Are you going to sit there and ignore me?”
“I'm listening to you,” I assure him, looking down at my hands in my lap.
“Why won't you look at me when I talk to you, hell you don't look at anyone. You act like no one else exists.” He sounds incredulous.
He thinks I'm being stuck up, that I'm being a bitch. I do look over at him now. I give him my entire attention.
I'm tired, tired of being the invisible girl, tired of working on getting mediocre grades, tired of going to school all day and working half the night. But mostly, I'm tired of worrying about my mom all by myself. Worrying when her next episode will come, worrying about coming home and finding her ready to move again, running from God knows what. I let him see all of it.
“I'm just trying to survive,” I answer him too honestly.
His eyes soften, and his mouth opens, letting out a soft breath. “Survive what?” He tries for a whisper but still feel his deep tenor I bet he'd have a lovely singing voice.
“Everything,” I mutter, looking away from him. It's too much. I can't give this total stranger a piece of me; it's probably his fault to begin with. He's the one that told cheer girl I asked him for help, and I know she's the ringleader of my new visibility. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn't even be a blip on her radar.
He doesn't try to speak to me for the rest of class, and I'm grateful.
Mr. Adams gives me a few more pages, which will help me with the nose and mouth, before class is over. I take those and my trance paper home even though the girls basically called me retarded because I needed it.
Work is a little busier tonight. Most of the booths are full and I sigh, knowing I can actually be useful.
Maggie stays behind the long counter helping all the customers sitting there, while I take the tables and booths.
“On Thursdays things pick up,” Maggie explains while I'm wiping down an empty booth. “We usually stay busy through Sunday brunch.” She shrugs her heavy shoulders like she doesn't have any further explanation. “Now that I know you know what you're doing, I think we should talk about a more permanent schedule.”
I bounce on my toes, happy she's going to keep me on.
“All right, how does this look?” Maggie asks while pointing up to a large whiteboard over the desk in her office. She has me on Wednesday through Saturday from 3:30 till 9:00, and 8:00 until 1:00 on Sunday.
“Looks perfect!” I beam at her, relieved she's giving me all the hours.
“You're sure it's not too much? That you'll be able to keep up your school work?” She tips her head forward.
I dismiss her worries with a wave.“Positive.”
* * *
That nightwhen I get home, Mom is awake. She's scrubbing the tiny kitchen counter with a green brillo pad. Her gray eyes are unfocused, darting around and looking at everything but me.
“Working?” she questions me needlessly.
“Yeah, just got off,” I mumble tiredly, hanging my bag over the back of the dinette seat. “How are you?” It's a loaded question with her. She could give me a vague fine, or she could give me a full rendition of every event that took place today, no matter how small or insignificant.
“Okay, I guess.” She shrugs her frail shoulders. “I think...” She trails off, staring down at her hands. “I think this is where we belong.”
I try to keep the shock from my voice when I ask, “Really?” I'm not sure if I was successful, but she starts scrubbing again.
This isn't the first time she's muttered those words about a new place but it's been years since she has.
I don't know if I can believe her or not, but that's not the only problem. Is Canton the place I want her to pick?
