Made For You. Melissa Marr
Jessup has about twenty thousand people, which means that there are only two hundred or so students in my grade, which means they all have known one another since they were in preschool. Eva’s family is the biggest employer in Jessup. Although the Cooper Winery itself doesn’t have a huge staff, many of the businesses here are partially owned by the Coopers. They’re the modern equivalents of aristocracy. Added to that, Eva’s father is a minister’s son, so the combination of Cooper wealth and Tilling modesty makes Eva a veritable princess here.
“How is she?” Piper Kennelly follows me through the hall. Behind her are three of the “Piper-ettes,” the seemingly interchangeable girls who are vying for her attention or Eva’s. They stand silent but attentive. Much like Eva’s, Piper’s opinion matters.
“Awake. She’s awake and through surgery. She’s doing much, much better.”
“I’m so glad!” Piper hugs me then, which is unexpected. I realize, though, that this is about Eva. I’m the only one allowed to visit her right now, so my status with Piper and her ilk just increased.
The bulk of the day goes a lot like that. It seems like everyone who sees me asks about Eva. People who are typically nice but not friendly to me are suddenly at my side like we’re old friends. I almost hate them for their transparency.
“Tell Eva we asked after her,” another girl calls out as I walk into my second-to-last-period course. I debate pointing out that I’m not Eva’s servant, governess, or any other Southern cliché. I’ve learned though that such remarks tend to be the equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard here, so I wave over my shoulder, hoping to keep a smile in place, and head into lit class.
In Jessup, American Lit focuses most of the attention on only one part of the country, and as much as I can appreciate Flannery O’Connor and William Faulkner, I’m pretty sure that there are giants in the field we’re skipping—giants whose works would probably be useful to know before college. Thankfully, I can order critical editions online and study up on those. I’m not sure that Mr. Ellsworth would be much use with non-Southern lit anyhow.
I shake my head and glance at reason number two that I dread this class. Slouching in the back row is Robert Baucom. Eva’s boyfriend of the past year is the epitome of everything I think is wrong with Jessup. His family, much like Eva’s, is one of the first families of Jessup. He wears the clothes that speak of money and status, and he’ll only date the kind of girls who can trace their pedigrees back to The War. If you told me—before I came here—that there were still places where social class and ancestry mattered this much, I probably would’ve laughed. Heritage, however, is no laughing matter in Jessup.
Despite my general loathing of Robert, I walk to the back of the room to try to talk to him. He’s watching me approach with a flicker of nervousness on his face. He does that a lot, as if I’m a bug and he’d like to study me, but only once I’m safely under a jar. It stopped being creepy a while ago, but it’s still irritating as hell.
He knows I’ve been opposed to Eva dating him, and although we’ve reached an uneasy truce, we’re both very aware of the other’s disdain.
“Robert.”
He nods in lieu of replying. It’s going to be one of those conversations apparently. Without Eva here to remind him that I’m not “the help,” he tends to act like a dismissive jerk when he has an audience. At Jessup High, Robert always has an audience.
I ignore the curious gazes of the people on either side of him. Reid Benson and Jamie Hall exchange one of the looks that passes for conversation among this crowd, and Grayson Lane simply stares at me. Reid and Jamie are about the most vulgar boys I’ve met in Jessup. Around here, it passes for charm with half the school, or maybe it’s their names that pass as charm, and the vulgarity is just overlooked because of it.
I smother a sigh and try again to talk to Robert. “I don’t know when you plan to see Eva, but I thought we could check our schedules to make sure we don’t overlap.”
Robert shrugs. “I’m not sure. I have exams and things, and she isn’t allowed visitors.” He knows as well as I do that if he wanted to go Eva would see him.
“Seriously?”
He doesn’t reply or look at me, instead busying himself flipping the pages in his book as if he’s searching for a passage.
Reid coughs like he’s hiding a laugh. I flip him off but don’t look away from Robert. I force a smile and step closer. “Robert?”
He looks up.
“She could’ve died.”
For a moment, he’s silent. He seems to be weighing his thoughts, and I hope that he’ll do the right thing. His friends, Eva’s friends, are watching. No one is laughing now. The thought of the Tilling-Cooper scion dying is never going to be funny in Jessup, not even for a moment while a bunch of boys try to prove they’re smart-asses.
“How is she? Really?” he asks.
“She’s recovering, but she’s lonely and upset. You visiting would help.” I want to believe there’s some good in Robert. I hope he’ll show me that now.
Instead, he looks down at his book again and says, “I’ll text her tonight.”
And my good intentions about not arguing with him slip a little. “She deserves better.”
Reid shoots me a quick secretive smile, but Robert and the other two boys are all ignoring me now. Despite being so crude, Reid usually seems like he’s trying to be nice to me. He also seems increasingly convinced that he can charm me out of my clothes.
Reid doesn’t even pretend he’s interested in dating. As he so bluntly put it late one night after everyone had either passed out, left, or retreated behind closed doors, “My grandmother would have to mainline Xanax before she’d allow me to date a non-Southern girl … especially an Asian one.” I couldn’t decide whether to give him points for honesty or slap him for being an imbecile.
Mr. Ellsworth walks into the room, so I go to my seat. Listening to him drone on about the exam schedule is almost soothing. I don’t understand a lot of Eva’s friends or her boyfriend. Half the school seems desperate to let me know that they care about Eva—whether or not they do, I can’t honestly say—but her actual boyfriend seems just as determined to be clear that he isn’t going to worry about her. Part of me wants to stop and ask Reid to explain. He’s been friends with them since birth so he must have some sort of insight.
Understanding Robert’s idiocy won’t fix it though, so I settle for hoping that this is the thing that will convince Eva to end things with him. If not, I may end up going native and spouting things like “cad” and “reprobate.” If common sense won’t make her see that he’s a jerk, maybe some Jessup-isms will get it done.
MY ROOM IS GETTING dangerously close to smelling like a perfume shop. Apparently my no-visitors lie was interpreted as an invitation to send arrangements. A few flowers are nice, but after a dozen or so bouquets the scent is nauseating. I blame the smell for giving me a headache and have the nurses give away all of them—except the orchids my parents sent. They called late last night—apparently after all these years they still can’t master time-zone math. They think they can finally get a flight out, so I guess they’ll be here soon—and I’ll go home. I guess it’s good. I’m already feeling caged.
I’m off the antiseizure drug, but I’m still on the muscle relaxer. I can even have narcotics too now that my brain seems okay. The doctors and nurses focus on my brain, my leg, and nerve damage. They tell me how lucky I am that I haven’t lost any sensation in my face. They