Forgotten: Seventeen and Homeless (5 page)

"Because you're going with Jayden Hammaker."

I try not to look surprised but glance to the front of the room where Bristol is talking, or maybe it's flirting, with Mr. Klein. She's mentioned several times that she thinks he's hot. "Jayden and I are mostly just friends," I say quietly.

"I've seen you with him. It looks like more than just friends to me. And I'm sure Bristol doesn't like it."

I shrug again and return to my drawing.

"I used to be friends with Bristol and Isabella and the others," Lindsey says.

"Used to be?"

"I got tired of it." Lindsey lets out a little sigh. "Being perfect ... well, it can be exhausting."

I can't help but smile.

"Here it is." Bristol flits back with her drawing, putting it down right on top of mine.

"Wow, that's really good," I admit. "And it actually looks like you too."

"Well, it's supposed to look like me." She smiles smugly. "But thanks."

"You're a good artist," I tell her, feeling Lindsey's gaze on me.

"Maybe ... but it's nothing I take too seriously." She looks over at Lindsey now. "Not like some people anyway. It's totally unrealistic to think you can make a career as an artist."

Lindsey just focuses back on her own self-portrait. Like everything she does, it's extremely good. She's the most talented artist in this class, probably in the whole school. And I know Bristol's jab was for Lindsey's sake because Lindsey does take her art very seriously. I even heard her talking to Mr. Klein a couple days ago, and she plans to major in art in college. But I don't see why Bristol should pick on her for that. Except that just seems to be who Bristol is-it's like her biggest talent is finding fault with everyone.

"I'm sure a lot of artists would disagree with you," I say to Bristol.

"You mean starving artists?" She snickers. "Well, that might be okay for some people, but I happen to enjoy the finer things in life. I suppose my standards are a lot higher than most."

Lindsey looks up from her work, leveling her gaze at Bristol. "Are you talking about your standards, Bristol, or your parents'?"

Bristol's dark eyes flash. "Like you'd even know." Then she picks up her self-portrait and saunters back up to the front of the class to chat with Mr. Klein again.

I stare at Lindsey, trying to figure out this puzzling girl. What on earth made her speak out like that to someone like Bristol? Talk about asking for it!

"Yeah, yeah . . ." Lindsey shakes her head like she's disappointed. "I promised myself I wouldn't fight with Bristol this year. Just three weeks in and I blew it."

"Do you usually fight with Bristol?"

She makes a sheepish smile. "Bristol and I have never gotten along too well. But the bickering gets old. I told myself it was time to grow up and move on. But sometimes ... well, it's like I can't control myself."

I suppress the urge to laugh. "I know what you mean."

"Except that you never stand up to her." Lindsey seems to be studying me now. "Why not?"

I just shrug and return my focus to my drawing and she does the same, and now all I hear is the quiet scritch-scratch of our pencils sketching. I'm sure Lindsey must think I'm totally spineless. And that's fine. Kudos to her that she can take the high road like that-or at least try to. But Lindsey doesn't know what my life is like. She doesn't know the tightrope I'm walking here-between my mom and my new friends. She, and everyone else at this school, is pretty much clueless. And that's exactly how I plan to keep it.

As I join my friends at the lunch table, they're talking about a new movie that just released, making plans to go see it as a group. "You're coming too," Isabella informs me as I sit down with my meager lunch of an apple and soda. My mom was short on cash this morning, and I'm trying to economize however I can, just in case.

"I don't know ..." I slowly remove my straw from the wrapper, stalling for time since I know a night at the movies isn't cheap.

"Come on," Jayden urges. "It's supposed to be a great flick." His smile is like a lure. "Okay, I guess I'll go too." But even as I say this, I'm wondering if he's asking me to go with him, like a real date, or whether I still have to figure out a way to come up with the money. Whatever, it looks like I'm in.

"Wow, someone's on a diet," Lily says to me as I take a bite out of my apple.

"Real nice, Adele." Isabella frowns. "Make the rest of us feel guilty for pigging out. You don't even need to lose weight."

"I'm not on a diet. I'm just not hungry, that's all." Okay, that was a big fat lie. Just the smell of Isabella's french fries is making me salivate. Hopefully I won't drool on myself.

After lunch, and as usual, Jayden and I walk to resource together. But to my surprise, he reaches for my hand as we're walking. Naturally, I don't resist. But I am curious, is this just a friendly gesture or something more? Of course I can't ask.

When we're nearly to our resource room, he slows down. "How about if I drive us tonight?" He sounds unsure. "I'll pick you up for the movie around seven. Okay?"

I study him curiously. "Okay ...?"

He gives me a little sideways grin that makes it seem like he's uneasy. "I mean like a date, Adele."

I laugh nervously. "Like a date?" I echo in a teasing tone.

"Unless you don't want to go out with me." Now his cheeks actually flush ever so slightly, and I feel sorry for joking. "I wasn't trying to pressure you into -

"No, no. I really want to go out with you, Jayden. I was just jerking your chain. Sorry about that."

Now his hazel eyes light up and his grin returns. "All right then!" He squeezes my hand and a rush of excitement surges through me. I am going on a date! A real live date!

After school, I meet up with Isabella and immediately tell her the good news, and she seems almost as happy as I am. But Bristol, who is standing nearby, looks miffed. I'm determined not to let her ruin this for me. And although it's selfish, I suddenly wish that she and Lily hadn't agreed to go to the movies with everyone tonight. For some reason that makes it feel less like a date.

"Who's riding with me?" Isabella asks as she slams her locker closed. "I mean besides Adele." She grins at me as if we have this secret pact because I have been riding to and from school with her for almost two weeks now. And it's so much better than using the transit, not to mention a money saver. Sometimes Bristol rides with us, which puts me in the backseat since, as Bristol pointed out, her house is closer to Isabella's and why should she have to sit in back and then get in front after I'm dropped off. Whatever.

At first I was curious why Bristol doesn't have her own car-especially considering her dad owns the Honda dealership in town. But Isabella confided to me that Bristol got her license revoked last summer. She got into a small wreck while driving with friends in the car (which was breaking the law in our state). Fortunately no one was hurt, but Bristol lost her car and her driving privileges. And since no one is supposed to talk about it, I don't.

"Lily has choir practice, so I guess you're stuck with me, Bella." Bristol gives Isabella her most charming smile. And, as usual, she starts gushing about "old times" and silly events and memories I know nothing about. I think this is Bristol's secret technique for worming her way back into Isabella's inner circle. And for the most part it works. When Bristol wants something, like a ride, she can be extremely charming. And she knows just how to push Isabella's happy buttons. With flattery and jokes she warms Isabella right up, and sometimes they get so chummy I actually worry that I will be permanently shoved aside. Except Isabella has confessed to me that she doesn't trust Bristol ... and that I shouldn't either. So it's a weird sort of friendship. And I usually feel caught somewhere in the middle.

"How much longer will you have to live in Westwood Heights?" Bristol asks me as Isabella turns her car into the condo parking lot.

"I'm not sure," I say as I gather my things.

"It just seems so dismal." Bristol shakes her head. "Your front yard is a giant parking lot."

"But our condo faces the other direction," I point out. "It looks out over the river and it's actually rather-"

"Yes, and our house is by the same river, Adele. Except that our house overlooks the pretty part of the river. Not the industrial section."

As I reach for my bag, I can think of no response to that. So much of what Bristol says is like that.

"Tell your mom she better come over and check out the house in our neighborhood," Isabella reminds me. "I heard someone else is interested."

"You mean the Barker house?" Bristol sounds cynical. "That's like a million dollars, Bella. I seriously doubt Adele's mom can afford that."

"Unless she's an heiress," Isabella says.

"Yeah, right." Bristol laughs.

"So we'll meet up with you and Jayden at the theater then," Isabella says as I'm getting out of the backseat.

I nod and wave, hurrying through the parking lot toward our condo. I'm thankful to get away, and despite Bristol turning her nose up at Westwood Heights, I still feel extremely fortunate and thankful to be living here. I love unlocking the door and walking into the spacious room with hardwood floors and windows that look out over the river - and I know how to look south to avoid the industrial area. And I don't mind cleaning the granite countertops and polishing the stainless steel appliances. I like keeping it looking good. And I wish we could afford to buy some more furnishings because it's still pretty sparse-not that I plan to bring this up to my mom anytime soon.

But really, this is the nicest place I've ever lived, and my biggest concern is that we could lose it. Of course, I'm trying not to think about that. And right now, the biggest thing occupying my mind is the fact that I am going on my first real date tonight!

've finally decided on the perfect outfit when my mom enters the condo. It's close to seven now, and I was getting a little worried that she wouldn't get home before I left. I'd tried her cell phone, but it went straight to voice mail. And although there's not much I can do about anything, I am concerned. First my mom acts like we're short on money, and then she doesn't come home at a normal time. It's like a warning, a flag telling me something's not right.