“My mom passed away,” he says.

“Oh.” I play with my bag of fruit snacks. Only now do I realize that in the midst of us talking, I ate all of them.

Jackson reaches over and puts his hand over mine. My heart speeds up. My instinct is to pull my hand away. No one’s touched me like that in a long time without expecting something else. Something more. But he’s not demanding. Just letting me know things are okay.

“We’re all messed up in some way,” he says. “You’re not so different from the rest of us.”

His sparkling, kind eyes look at me like I’m special. He knows I’ve got something dark in my past I don’t want to talk about, something that made me pass out in the middle of school and cry out to someone, but he still looks at me like I’m normal.

It’s nice, but I know better than to push my luck. I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t stand the look he’d give me if he knew that for the last three years I’d been sleeping with men for money. That’s too much for anyone to take, let alone a boy like Jackson.

I jump when the bell rings, and I realize I’ve got to go to class and be a normal student again. Awesome. I pick up my backpack and try to figure out how to get from this part of the school to my first class.

Jackson eyes my backpack. “You have a locker?”

I shrug, and he grins. I pull out my folded-up schedule and hand it to him.

Jackson looks down, then stands. “Come on Miss Normal, I’ll show you where your locker is so you don’t break your back carrying that thing around.”

We walk down the hall and to my locker, and Jackson attempts to show me how to unlock it. We had lockers in middle school, so the concept isn’t completely foreign to me, but I’m not exactly a natural.

I finally get my locker open without help, and I drop my bag off. My locker’s completely empty except for a small slip of paper on the top shelf.

I unfold the note. In sloppy letters it reads:

I know who you really are

Or should I say “what”

I stare at the writing for a second and then crumple it up, ignoring the pounding in my chest. It’s just someone playing another stupid trick one me. That’s it. No one knows what I was in New York.

“You okay?” Jackson asks.

I jump, despite myself. “Yeah, no problem.”

I won’t let this get to me. I crumple the paper in my fist and throw it back into my locker. Whoever left it can move on to someone who cares.

Chapter Twelve

Jackson sits beside me in art class, and Mr. Harkins gives me a book of canvas paper and some pastels and tells me to draw anything I want. I take in a deep breath.

I’m not sure what to draw, so for a minute I just sit there, staring at the blank canvas, wondering what in the world it’s going to become. This is another fresh start, I realize. It can be anything.

The class is quiet. Only the sounds of pencils, charcoal, and pastels scraping and scratching against paper. I pick up a yellow pastel stick and begin with one long line.

Within seconds, all of my tension is gone. There is only me and the paper. Me and the picture in my head.

This. This is perfect. No talking, just drawing.

I feel so completely free, thinking about the colors and the lines and what I’ll do next, planning and preparing and doing.

It’s freaking magical.

The outside world falls away. The classroom. The students. Even Jackson. All I need is the pencil and paper. Art.

I draw a carousel and a little brown-haired girl with pigtails and pearls around her neck. She laughs wildly as she rides the plastic tiger around and around.

The little girl is free, and for a moment, so am I.

I leave that class with a soaring feeling in my chest. My picture isn’t finished yet, but I feel so very accomplished. I’ve finally found something that matters. Who cares if the picture sucks? If the people around me don’t even know what it is? I know what it is. It’s my world. And that’s all that matters.

I walk to the bathroom, and this time I set my books down on the windowsill and look out the window that leads to the courtyard. It’s been so long since I felt like this. Real hope. Real happiness.

I stand there for so long the bell rings, and I realize I’m late for lunch. At least I can’t get detention for that. I know if the hallways are bad, the cafeteria will be ten times worse. Maybe I should skip lunch? But damn if I’m not hungry, so I suck it up and rush down the stairs.

I manage to blend into a small crowd of freshman as they enter the cafeteria. Just because I don’t care about the whispers and the stares doesn’t mean I have to invite them. But everyone’s preoccupied with whatever drama their own lives hold for now.

Good, keep your mind on your own business.

I wait in line for some food. There are three different lines, and they seem to be pretty identical. Same food at each one. I end up just getting a soft pretzel, a cookie, and a Gatorade.

“Two fifty,” the lunch lady says.

That’s it?

I hand her three dollars, wait for my change, and then head out. I stand there for a moment, holding my tray, unsure of where to go now. As I look out into the sea of high school students, all I can think is: how the hell did I end up here?

Then a voice comes from beside me.

“What’s up?” Jackson says with a goofy smile. “Need a place to sit?”

I shrug, hiding my immense relief. He motions for me to follow him, so I do. I guess I’m not interesting enough on my own anymore, but seeing me with Jackson, people twist their heads so far they look like they may break their necks to watch me walk by.

Jackson leads me toward the back, at a table next to the window. I look to a small outside patio with picnic tables and see some stoner-looking people and a group of younger boys playing hacky sack.

Jackson sets his tray down with a clink. A few heads look up quickly, all boys. Two of them are white and skinny like Jackson, but they look a little less chic geek. In fact one of them is in a school football jersey, and the other in an Abercrombie T-shirt.

I try to smile, but I’m not good at making friends. They surprise me by smiling back anyway.

“Hey guys,” Jackson says. “This is Anna.” He points at each of them. “This is Doug, Garry, Kurt, and Jason.” I haven’t the slightest clue who is who, but that doesn’t really matter, because I won’t remember their names in about thirty seconds.

Jackson pats the chair next to him. I blink, realizing I was staring. I sit down and stare at my food. I want to eat it, but it feels weird to do something so natural in such an odd situation.

Is it really this easy? Say hello, sit down, make instant friends?

I look up and realize none of them are looking at me anyway; they’re all looking at Jackson and seem to be having some kind of silent conversation. That’s more like it. Smiles one minute, weird looks the next.

They exchange a few nods and mouthed words. The Asian boy notices me looking now, and he stops, wide-eyed. He clears his throat.

I raise my eyebrows as the other guys look to him, then to me. One of the white boys begins to blush. I still have no idea what’s going on, but I’m sure it’s about me.

This moment takes the awkward up about ten notches, and it was pretty high to begin with.

I sit there in silence for a few seconds, pretending not to notice their silent conversation. The dragon shirt kid’s eyes are big, and he looks across the lunchroom like there’s someone watching us or something.

One kids shrugs like he doesn’t care one way or the other and just shoves a huge piece of pizza into his mouth, and the last boy shakes his head.

“I can leave,” I say.

Jackson cocks his eyebrow. “Come on. They’re just being weird.”

I have no idea what’s going on, but I do know that I’m not very comfortable.