The Den of Shadows Quartet - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [31]
Jessica had been struck by the idea for Tiger, Tiger several years before, when she and Anne had been visiting one of Anne’s old college friends in Concord, Massachusetts. She had spent nearly the entire weekend vacation locked in her room, and those hours of work had finally paid off.
In homeroom, Jessica sat in the back, alone as always. She waited in silent contemplation for attendance to be taken. The teacher was a young woman whom Jessica had not seen before; her name was written on the board and had received a few snickers from the students. Kate Katherine, high-school teacher, must have had sick parents. On the other hand, her name was probably easier for people to remember than Jessica Ashley Allodola.
“Jessica Allodola?” Mrs. Katherine said as if cued by Jessica’s thoughts.
“Here,” Jessica answered absently. The teacher checked off the name in her book and went on to the next person on the list.
The words of Jessica’s adoptive mother, Anne, echoed through her mind.
“Tomorrow is the first day of a new year, Jessie. Could you at least try not to get sent to the office? Just this once?”
“Don’t call me Jessie,” she had answered.
“Just try, Jessica,” Anne had pleaded. “For me?”
“You aren’t my mother. Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m the closest thing to a mother you have!” Anne had snarled, losing her patience.
The remark had stung, and Jessica had stalked to her room, mumbling, “My real mother was smart enough to get rid of me early.”
Snapping back to the present, she wondered bitterly if Anne considered it bad luck that Jessica was the child she had ended up adopting. Jessica wrenched herself from these thoughts as a pretty girl with chestnut hair tentatively entered the room.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” the girl said. “I’m new to the school, and I got a bit lost.” She introduced herself as Caryn Rashida. Mrs. Katherine nodded as she found Caryn’s name on her list.
Caryn looked around for an empty seat; one was conveniently located next to Jessica. But when she saw Jessica she hesitated, as if she might go sit somewhere else. Jessica wasn’t surprised. The residents of Ramsa all seemed to shy away from her almost unconsciously.
However, Caryn made up her mind and walked resolutely across the room. Extending a hand, she spoke. “Hi. I’m Caryn Rashida.” She stumbled a bit over her own last name. “Why are you sitting all alone here?”
Cause I want to,” Jessica answered coolly, leveling her emerald-green eyes at Caryn’s pale blue ones. Caryn held the gaze for a moment longer than most people could, but then looked away.
With disgust, Jessica had noted the girl’s unease and her decision to make an effort despite it. Jessica had no wish to be taken under Caryn’s wing like a homeless child. Dislike she understood; pity she could not stand.
“Wouldn’t you rather have some company?” Caryn asked, her tone more subdued but no less friendly.
Ignoring Caryn’s attempts at conversation, Jessica pulled out a pencil and started to draw.
“Well, then … I guess I’ll leave you alone,” Caryn said, voice muted. She moved to another table. Jessica continued drawing, ignoring Caryn and the teacher, who was droning on about locker assignments.
Mrs. Katherine asked Caryn to help distribute the locks, and when Caryn had finished, she lingered a moment at Jessica’s table. Jessica wondered grimly at the girl’s persistence.
“I’ve never been able to figure these out,” Caryn muttered as she fiddled with her lock. She spun the combination a dozen times without success. “Maybe it’s broken … You want to give it a try?”
Jessica plucked the lock from Caryn’s hands and had it open in a second. “Hope you don’t need to use the locker too much this year.”
“How do these things work?” Caryn laughed at herself cheerfully.
“Figure it out yourself,” Jessica answered as she shut the lock and tossed it back to Caryn.
“What did I do to you?” Caryn asked, finally deflated, and Jessica wouldn’t have been surprised to see her eyes start to tear. “Why do you have to be so nasty to me?”
“It’s who I am,” Jessica snapped, closing