Diamonds in the Rough. Michelle Madow
a terrible feeling that despite her summer tutoring, she would still be behind in her classes. Girls in a nearby clump were looking her over, smirking and whispering what Savannah imagined were mean comments. She pulled her miniskirt down to cover as much of her legs as possible (which wasn’t very much), not wanting to leave her sisters’ sides.
But they had no classes together, so she didn’t have a choice.
* * *
Savannah arrived at first period early and situated herself in a seat in the middle of the U-shaped table configuration, then browsed YouTube on her phone to look busy. After putting her first video online—the one Nick had bought for her of her singing karaoke at Imperial Palace—she’d dreamed it would go viral and she would become an internet sensation. Instead, it had reached around three hundred views and plateaued off. She’d posted a few more videos since then, but despite her best efforts, she still hadn’t cracked a thousand views on any of them.
Maybe she just wasn’t that great and should stop trying.
“This is European History, right?” a short girl with long, dark hair asked from the door. She wore designer jeans and a fitted green T-shirt that looked like a Michael Stars, and the raised triangle label on her black tote was distinctly Prada.
The bag made Savannah regret her Longchamp. The girls at Goodman seemed to favor higher-end bags by Prada, Chanel and Givenchy, to name a few. After school, she had to go shopping for a new bag. She could use the Longchamp when she went to the pool.
“Yeah.” Savannah placed her phone on the table and smiled, hoping to look friendly and approachable. “At least, I hope so. It’s my first day. I’m Savannah.” She moved her bag off the seat next to her so that the girl could sit there.
“I’m Alyssa.” Instead of taking the seat next to Savannah, she left one between them.
Savannah’s cheeks burned. Why did this girl not want to sit next to her? Was she really that overdressed? Or maybe Alyssa had heard rumors about her and already didn’t want to be friends? Savannah knew people talked about her online, but she’d hoped her new status as Adrian Diamond’s daughter would make people want to be friends with her—not avoid sitting next to her.
“Sorry.” Alyssa shrugged. “My two best friends are in this class, and I promised to save them seats.”
“No problem.” Savannah forced a smile. If she’d had a class with Evie and Evie had asked her to save her a seat, she would have done the same thing. She shouldn’t take it personally. But that didn’t stop her throat from feeling tight, as if Alyssa had purposefully insulted her.
“Did you go out last night and not have time to take off your makeup this morning?”
Savannah jerked at the question. “Um, no,” she said. “Why?”
“You just seem really…done up for eight-thirty in the morning.” Alyssa motioned to her own natural makeup, which was opposite from Savannah’s purple metallic shadow and gold glitter liner. “I don’t mean it in a mean way,” she said. “I just guess Goodman is different from whatever school you transferred from.”
“It’s definitely different.” Savannah sighed, not wanting to describe Fairfield High. It would probably make this girl judge her even more.
Then Alyssa pulled out her iPad, and Savannah saw something on the back of it that made her brighten—a sticker of a volleyball.
“You play volleyball?” she asked.
“Yep,” Alyssa said. “I’m on the team here. Do you play, too?”
“I was on JV at my old school.”
“Ohhh, okay.” She nodded condescendingly. “Since Goodman’s so small, we only have varsity.”
“I was one of the best players on JV, and they subbed me in for varsity sometimes,” Savannah said. “Maybe I’ll have a chance.”
All right, they’d subbed her in only once, when a stomach bug had made its way around school and a lot of the varsity players had gotten sick. And they’d lost that game. But Savannah was one of the better players on JV, and she would have been a serious contender for varsity this year at Fairfield.
“Maybe,” Alyssa said, although she didn’t sound like she believed it. Then other students filed in—including the girls Alyssa was saving seats for, Brooke and Jackie. The three of them gossiped like they hadn’t seen each other in years, and Savannah brought out her laptop, pretending she was busy on it.
Being new and knowing no one in her grade really, really sucked.
She didn’t fair better in her next class, so when it was time for lunch, she was on her own. Everyone else joined up with their friends, but Savannah hurried into the nearest restroom, waited for the door to shut, and burst into tears. Why did no one want to be friends with her? She ripped the stupid crystal headband that she’d thought was so cute this morning off her head and tossed it into her bag, along with the sparkly, dangly earrings. If only she could be like Superman and change her outfit, too.
She sniffed, grabbed a paper towel and fixed her makeup, trying to remove the glitter without making it look like more of a wreck. Then the toilet in the end stall flushed, and she froze, her hands propped on the sink. How had she missed that someone else was in the bathroom?
She wanted to dive into the nearest stall, but before she could, the girl opened the door and met her eyes. Luckily, this girl didn’t look like the gossiping type. Her coarse brown hair was pulled back into a boyish bun. She wore thick-rimmed glasses and baggy cargo pants, and her fraying backpack had Japanese cartoon characters stitched into it.
She must be the school weirdo.
“Are you okay?” the girl asked as she washed her hands.
Savannah stared at her blankly. Of course she wasn’t okay. But she wasn’t about to confess her problems to this random girl, either.
“I’ll take that as a no.” She took a deep breath. “You’re new here, right?”
“Yeah,” she somehow managed. “Savannah.”
“I’m Wendy,” she said. “I was about to go eat with my friends, if you want to come with?”
Savannah’s first day of school, and the only person who had reached out to her was the school weirdo. But she didn’t want to be alone at lunch on her first day. And it was kind of Wendy to offer, especially since she knew nothing about her other than that she’d been crying by herself in the bathroom.
“Um, sure.” She glanced at the mirror to make sure the mascara was off her cheeks, picked her Longchamp up off the floor and attempted a smile. “Thanks.”
* * *
Goodman’s cafeteria wasn’t inside the upper school—they had a separate building just for eating. And they didn’t call it the cafeteria, either. They called it the “dining hall,” and everyone bought lunch. Not one person carried a bag from home.
“Upstairs are the normal daily foods—pizza, pasta, sushi, Chinese, salad bar and the hot meal special of the day,” Wendy told Savannah as they entered the dining hall, which looked more like a restaurant than a high school cafeteria. The tables had chairs instead of attached benches, and the walls were covered with giant windows that had views of the swimming pool and the lake. “Downstairs is the deli bar where you can get made-to-order subs and sandwiches, and the grill where you can get hamburgers, hot dogs and fries and stuff.”
“What do you normally get?” Savannah asked, still trying to process that they had sushi and made-to-order subs. That was nothing like the mystery mush at Fairfield High. Why did the seniors need to go to restaurants when they had all these choices at their school? Not that it mattered—she was glad the seniors went to restaurants, since it meant she wouldn’t run into Damien.
“I get sushi almost every day,” Wendy said. “Make sure to stay away from the pizza—it