Status: Back home, back to work!
How Cliche to Have My Heart Stolen
Chapter 22 - Being the New Kid
Since pretty much everyone here knew how I got to be in this town, I didn't have to be in disguise. I could wear what I would normally wear in my past life before all this happened. It made shopping a lot easier. I didn't have to worry about a wig, or think about the red marks left behind between magnetic fake facial piercings. I just bought clothes I liked.
We shopped for a good while. Of course, Rachel was in her natural element: Shopping on someone else's budget. We went to all the stores I only barely visited before having a get-together with distant uptight relatives. Wet Seal. Forever 21. Even Coach. I was bored and mostly just watched her. It was the happiest I'd ever seen her. I actually hoped what Matt had said, "Maybe she'll find a made man of her own." Wouldn't that be something?
I bought a lot of camis, a couple of corsets, and some very loose tops to be worn over the camis. I bought new underwear, which made me happier than anything. For some reason, the underwear I'd had was just full of bad memories--having kissed Luke's uncle, fighting with Rachel, being jealous of Rachel. I'd planned to throw out all the underwear I'd owned since this misadventure.
Poor Luke became Rachel's and my pack mule. I tried to carry several of the bags myself, but after a while, my arms were so very sore. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just weaker than I used to be."
"Really," Luke promised, "It's okay. I don't mind." He was lying. I could see his muscles twitching. The veins in his arms became more visible.
Loading the bags into the van, a wave of relief ran over Luke's face, his heavy breathing he very unsuccessfully tried to hide. We all got in the van as Luke finally caught his breath.
"Is there anything we need?" I asked, "As far as furniture?"
After thinking for a moment, "No, not really." Luke explained that there were many made men who would stay in the hideout suburb for only a year or so, move branch out when the heat had warn off, and come back should any problems arise. They had to travel light, kind of like we did since Rachel and I were first abducted. Of course they couldn't take the dressers, TVs, beds, and other bulky possessions. He went on to say when families left, they would contact Angela--or one of her partners--giving a date that the house could be disinfected, the furniture cleaned and disinfected, and any clothes, toys, or whatever else was left behind would be donated. It was well thought out and elaborate. This really was a community that took care of each other. I found this funny, considering how much I frowned upon them before.
While we were shopping Lalean got bored and took care of registering Luke, Rachel, and me for school. So, when the three of us walked up wearing normal clothes, needless to say, we were easily spotted by all the other students. Then began the whispers. I haven't even done anything outrageous yet! Give me a chance first, sweet baby Jesus.
We were immediately pulled into the "Dean's" office. I say "Dean" because honestly, I don't really see how he was any different than a principal, but whatevs. Dean Kleeman leaned against his desk, warning us, by "us" I mean Rachel and myself, that there was no tolerance for actual state officials. He told us that Lalean had already explained what had happened between my totally average spring break and the start of the last quarter of school. Kleeman said, while he accepts us as if we were actually a part of a crime family, he will have an eye on us. Okay. So, let me get this straight, I think to myself while DK--the name I've given for Dean Kleeman, both standing for his honorable position but also standing for Donkey Kong who I was vaguely reminding of imagining him pounding his chest while he spouts this drivel--continues about how I'm a no good rat and am lucky I got an opportunity to be kidnapped and brought into this haven, because my mother and father made money legitimately by working their way up their respective career ladders, I am a trouble maker? I'm being treated like that kid that always played pranks on the substitute teachers. So maybe if I become that student I'll be praised?
My facial expression must have given way to my train of thought, because I was interrupted by DK saying, "Ms. James, are you confused about something? Or do I need to explain that any mischief such as alerting the authorities will have you spread across three different counties?" Well, that seemed to escalate at a reasonable pace.
"No, I'm simply thinking to myself about something totally unrelated to that," I answered, not really sure if it'd be safe to explain my actual thought process.
"Good then," he confirmed. "Are there any questions?"
We all shook our heads in negation. I really didn't want to get into the moral compass that I had before this adventure took place versus where it points now.
"We provide our students with uniforms," DK explained. "This is both a safety measure for our students as well as to keep a very general eye on who is and isn't permitted on the property during school hours. We do not allow a class system in our school. All our students are equal."
Sure, seems legit. Not that it was just explained that I was going to be viewed as a trouble maker given that I was raised by a "normal family" and that Rachel had been causing all the problems.
"So, we need to go change now then, I take it?" Luke said. I take it that Luke had never really went to their schools. Either that, or he left before they started using uniforms. Either way, he seemed about as lost as Rachel and I were.
"Yes, Mr. Lindsay." Hold on. My brain froze for a second. So. After all the shit Luke gave me about being sensitive about my girly first name, his last name is actually a girl's name. This is fantastic. I mentally file this away for blackmail later. DK handed us our individual uniforms for the day and said he mailed a school week worth of uniforms for each of us to the house, but it probably hadn't arrived yet. Really? It's not like we're two blocks away from the school or anything. It would have been more cost effective to drive a Hummer to the house with a hole in the bottom of the gas tank than to pay for the shipping.
Having given unreasonable explanations to the few questions he was given, I was ready to completely dismiss DK as a total douche canoe. Him and Carl were a pair of ass hats cut from the same clothe. I would treat them in the same respect: none.
We shopped for a good while. Of course, Rachel was in her natural element: Shopping on someone else's budget. We went to all the stores I only barely visited before having a get-together with distant uptight relatives. Wet Seal. Forever 21. Even Coach. I was bored and mostly just watched her. It was the happiest I'd ever seen her. I actually hoped what Matt had said, "Maybe she'll find a made man of her own." Wouldn't that be something?
I bought a lot of camis, a couple of corsets, and some very loose tops to be worn over the camis. I bought new underwear, which made me happier than anything. For some reason, the underwear I'd had was just full of bad memories--having kissed Luke's uncle, fighting with Rachel, being jealous of Rachel. I'd planned to throw out all the underwear I'd owned since this misadventure.
Poor Luke became Rachel's and my pack mule. I tried to carry several of the bags myself, but after a while, my arms were so very sore. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just weaker than I used to be."
"Really," Luke promised, "It's okay. I don't mind." He was lying. I could see his muscles twitching. The veins in his arms became more visible.
Loading the bags into the van, a wave of relief ran over Luke's face, his heavy breathing he very unsuccessfully tried to hide. We all got in the van as Luke finally caught his breath.
"Is there anything we need?" I asked, "As far as furniture?"
After thinking for a moment, "No, not really." Luke explained that there were many made men who would stay in the hideout suburb for only a year or so, move branch out when the heat had warn off, and come back should any problems arise. They had to travel light, kind of like we did since Rachel and I were first abducted. Of course they couldn't take the dressers, TVs, beds, and other bulky possessions. He went on to say when families left, they would contact Angela--or one of her partners--giving a date that the house could be disinfected, the furniture cleaned and disinfected, and any clothes, toys, or whatever else was left behind would be donated. It was well thought out and elaborate. This really was a community that took care of each other. I found this funny, considering how much I frowned upon them before.
While we were shopping Lalean got bored and took care of registering Luke, Rachel, and me for school. So, when the three of us walked up wearing normal clothes, needless to say, we were easily spotted by all the other students. Then began the whispers. I haven't even done anything outrageous yet! Give me a chance first, sweet baby Jesus.
We were immediately pulled into the "Dean's" office. I say "Dean" because honestly, I don't really see how he was any different than a principal, but whatevs. Dean Kleeman leaned against his desk, warning us, by "us" I mean Rachel and myself, that there was no tolerance for actual state officials. He told us that Lalean had already explained what had happened between my totally average spring break and the start of the last quarter of school. Kleeman said, while he accepts us as if we were actually a part of a crime family, he will have an eye on us. Okay. So, let me get this straight, I think to myself while DK--the name I've given for Dean Kleeman, both standing for his honorable position but also standing for Donkey Kong who I was vaguely reminding of imagining him pounding his chest while he spouts this drivel--continues about how I'm a no good rat and am lucky I got an opportunity to be kidnapped and brought into this haven, because my mother and father made money legitimately by working their way up their respective career ladders, I am a trouble maker? I'm being treated like that kid that always played pranks on the substitute teachers. So maybe if I become that student I'll be praised?
My facial expression must have given way to my train of thought, because I was interrupted by DK saying, "Ms. James, are you confused about something? Or do I need to explain that any mischief such as alerting the authorities will have you spread across three different counties?" Well, that seemed to escalate at a reasonable pace.
"No, I'm simply thinking to myself about something totally unrelated to that," I answered, not really sure if it'd be safe to explain my actual thought process.
"Good then," he confirmed. "Are there any questions?"
We all shook our heads in negation. I really didn't want to get into the moral compass that I had before this adventure took place versus where it points now.
"We provide our students with uniforms," DK explained. "This is both a safety measure for our students as well as to keep a very general eye on who is and isn't permitted on the property during school hours. We do not allow a class system in our school. All our students are equal."
Sure, seems legit. Not that it was just explained that I was going to be viewed as a trouble maker given that I was raised by a "normal family" and that Rachel had been causing all the problems.
"So, we need to go change now then, I take it?" Luke said. I take it that Luke had never really went to their schools. Either that, or he left before they started using uniforms. Either way, he seemed about as lost as Rachel and I were.
"Yes, Mr. Lindsay." Hold on. My brain froze for a second. So. After all the shit Luke gave me about being sensitive about my girly first name, his last name is actually a girl's name. This is fantastic. I mentally file this away for blackmail later. DK handed us our individual uniforms for the day and said he mailed a school week worth of uniforms for each of us to the house, but it probably hadn't arrived yet. Really? It's not like we're two blocks away from the school or anything. It would have been more cost effective to drive a Hummer to the house with a hole in the bottom of the gas tank than to pay for the shipping.
Having given unreasonable explanations to the few questions he was given, I was ready to completely dismiss DK as a total douche canoe. Him and Carl were a pair of ass hats cut from the same clothe. I would treat them in the same respect: none.