LOVE IN DISTRESS

Untitled Episode3. THE PARTY.

I did not know that week would be the week everything changed again.

My mother and I still cleaned at night, and I still went to class in the day. Nothing about that was different. But I felt different because Michael Drake had seen me with a mop in my hand, and he did not laugh.

On Friday, an envelope was taped to my locker. It was white and thick, and my name was written on the front in black ink. I opened it with my hands shaking.

It was a room assignment.

“Annabelle Williams — Ivy Dorms, Room 312.”

Ivy Dorms was for the rich students. The ones with parents who donated buildings. The ones who had cars and new clothes and never mopped a floor. I stared at the paper for a long time.

“I don’t belong there,” I said out loud, even though no one was in the hall.

That night I told my mother. She was sitting on the couch with a cup of tea, and her cough was better but not gone.

“They moved me to the dorms,” I said. “Ivy Dorms. The big ones with the marble floors.”

She put her cup down. “That is good, Annabelle. You will be safe there, and you won’t have to ride the bus at midnight after cleaning.”

“I don’t know anyone there,” I said. “They will know I’m not like them.”

My mother took my hand. “You are better than them,” she said. “You work hard, and you are honest. Let them learn from you.”

So on Saturday I packed my old bag. I had three shirts, one pair of jeans, my math book, and my mother’s cleaning rag. I kept it because it smelled like home, and I was scared.

Ivy Dorms was tall and white, and it had glass doors that opened by themselves. The floor was marble, just like the Administration Building. Girls walked past me with small dogs in their bags, and boys wore shoes that cost more than our rent.

My room was on the third floor. It was big, with two beds and a window that looked out over the whole campus. The other bed was empty. No one wanted to room with the scholarship girl.

I put my bag on the bed and sat down. The room was too quiet, and too clean.

That night there was a party.

I heard the music from my room. It was loud, and people were laughing in the hall. I did not go out. I sat on my bed with my math book, but I could not read the words.

Then someone knocked on my door. Hard.

I opened it.

A boy stood there. He was tall and muscular, and his hair was messy like he did not care. He wore a black shirt with gold writing on it, and a heavy gold watch on his wrist. His eyes were dark, and he looked at me like I was something on the bottom of his shoe.

I knew who he was. Everyone did. Cletus Thorne.

“You’re in my way,” he said, and his voice was loud. “This is my floor, and we don’t like poor people here. You make the place look bad.”

My face got hot. “I live here now,” I said, and my voice was small.

He laughed, and it was not a nice laugh. “You think because the Dean gave you a free pass, you belong here? You’re a cleaner’s kid. Go back to your mop.”

People were in the hall now, watching. Girls with drinks in their hands. Boys with their arms crossed. They were all looking at me.

“You don’t even have a dress for the party,” Cletus said, and he looked at my old jeans. “What, are you going to wear that? You’ll scare the guests.”

I wanted to close the door, but my hand would not move. I wanted to say something smart, but my mouth was dry.

Then another voice came from the hall. “That’s enough, Cletus.”

Michael Drake stepped through the crowd. He was wearing the same old gray sweater, and his hair was messy. He did not look rich, and he did not look scared.

“This is not your floor,” Michael said. “The school owns it, and she was assigned here. Leave her alone.”

Cletus turned, and his smile was mean. “Look who it is. Michael Drake, the poor little charity case. What are you going to do, throw your old books at me?”

Michael did not answer him. He looked at me instead. “Are you okay?” he asked, and his voice was quiet.

I nodded, but I was not okay. My eyes were burning, and I did not want to cry in front of them.

“Come on,” Michael said, and he held out his hand. “You don’t have to stay here.”

I looked at his hand. It was clean, but the sleeve of his sweater had a hole in it. I thought about my mother, and about how she said I was better than them.

I took his hand.

Cletus laughed again. “Running away with your boyfriend? You two are perfect for each other. Two losers.”

We walked past him, and I did not look back. Michael led me down the stairs and out of the dorms, and we did not stop until we were outside on the grass. The music was far away now, and the air was cold.

“Thank you,” I said, and I let go of his hand. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said. “Cletus is a bully, and he picks on people who can’t fight back. I know what that feels like.”

We sat on a bench under a tree, and for a long time we did not talk. The campus was dark, and the lights from the dorms looked like stars.

“Why did you help me?” I asked. “You don’t even know me.”

He looked at me, and his blue eyes were serious. “Because I saw you working,” he said. “You and your mom, at night. You don’t quit, even when you’re tired. I respect that.”

No one had ever said that to me before.

“Cletus will come back,” I said. “He hates me now.”

“Let him,” Michael said. “You’re not alone here. Not anymore.”

He said it like a promise, and my chest felt warm.

“Do you want to go back to the party?” he asked. “I can walk you in, and no one will say anything with me there.”

I thought about my old jeans, and about all the girls in their dresses. Then I thought about Cletus, and how he looked at me like I was nothing.

“No,” I said. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Good,” he said, and he smiled. “Parties are boring. Want to get coffee instead? The library cafe is open late, and their coffee is cheap.”

I smiled too, because it was the first time I had smiled since I moved in. “Okay,” I said.

We walked to the library, and we did not talk about Cletus, or the dorms, or my mop. We talked about math, and about books, and about how the coffee here was bad but it was hot.

When he bought my coffee, he paid with crumpled dollar bills. He saw me looking, and he shrugged. “Told you I work at the print shop,” he said.

That night, for the first time since I came to Sterling Heights, I did not feel like the cleaner’s daughter.

I felt like Annabelle.

And when Michael walked me back to my dorm, and he said goodnight at the door, I felt something else too. Something new, scary, and good.

I did not know it then, but that was the night my fake romance with Michael Drake began.

And it was also the night Cletus Thorne decided I was his enemy.

I closed my dorm room door, and I leaned against it. My heart was beating fast, and my hands were still warm from Michael’s.

One day had changed my life when my mother gave the money back.

One party had changed it again.

I did not know it yet, but the worst was still coming.