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~Chapter Thirteen~

"Oh...hey." Atticus' voice shocks me out of my trance, and I momentarily debate whether or not to feign deafness. Deciding against it, I say in a bored tone, "Hi."
Atticus looks around, as if trying to find topics for conversation. Just then, Brittany comes up behind him, and places her hand with its long, perfectly manicured nails over his eyes.
"Guess who?" She asks, and I have to bite my lip in a futile attempt to keep in the laughter. I twist around, just in case I fail, and my eyes meet with Louisa's. I glance back once more, only to find Atticus with Brittany's hands still over his eyes, and gag. I break through the crowd, straight towards Louisa, who meets me with an annoyingly superior smile.
"What?" I ask, my eyebrows raised.
"So...you and Atticus, huh?"
My mouth drops open, and I lightly punch her in the arm. "No...no!" I insist, but her smile doesn't disappear. She raises her arms in fake surrender, and turns around to wade through the crowd.
"Whatever you say, darling." She replies.
But what she doesn't see; and I have no intention of letting her see; is how my eyes flicker back to Atticus before following her.

******

"Class, I'll be handing out your papers. Please do not immediately turn to your friends to discuss your marks." Miss Holly's words are greeted with a light splattering of laughter, but I don't join in. My stomach has butterflies the size of elephants flying around in it, and I'm dreading seeing my paper.
I'm going to get four, I just know I am.
The not so comforting mantra replays continuously in my brain, and I want to tell it to shut up. But I know it's true...I'm going to get the worst marks ever.
Before I even realize, Miss Holly places the paper in front of me, and I force my eyes to move up to greet the marks in red.
12/20.
Good job, Bianca!
Good job? Good job?
Tears are threatening to form in my eyes, but I force them away. I will not cry. I will not cry. Sensing my humility, Louisa doesn't attempt to sneak a glance on my paper. I will not cry. I will not cry. While repeating the words, I almost miss Miss Holly's words, and am only jolted out of my self pity when I hear my name.
"....Bianca did exceptionally well. For a person that missed three whole years of her education, and yet got such amazing marks? Incredible job. In fact, she did better than half of you." I know I should be pleased at the words, but two things nag at me.
First of all, I did not miss any years of my education. My mother considered education the most important thing.
My real mother, that is. Not Caitlin.
And second, I may have done better than half, but then I also did worse than half.

******

I'm still wallowing in my wounded pride as me and Louisa walk down the corridor to the chemistry lab. I bump into someone, and look up to mutter an apology, when I do a double take.
It's the girl from the hospital.
Yesterday, after her subtle nod, I had gotten so freaked out that I had scampered up the wall, and raced into my room. I was out of breath, and terrified. I had had a rocky sleep; often waking through the night from bright blazes of fire that remained imprinted on my eyelids even after opening them.
I was certain I had seen this girl before, even before the hospital.
But where?
Now that I had found her, I wasn't going to let her off so easily. Even the fear in her eyes couldn't convince me against it.

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