The Not-Outcast - Tijan Page 0,2

stayed at my uncle’s house, but this time was cool. It was like seeing how the other half lives.

The high school was nicer, too. There weren’t gangs at Pine Valley.

Can you imagine? How Chad would be at my normal school? With the gangs there?

I started laughing, just thinking about it, and then I thought about Cut. It wasn’t funny anymore.

Cut would’ve still been popular and pretty, but he probably wouldn’t have laughed as much.

That was sad to think about because I liked his laugh. I listened for it in the hallways.

“Cheyenne.”

Crap. They’re talking to me.

“Cheyenne.” My counselor leaned over, putting her hand on my arm. “This is important. You need to focus on being present with us.”

They’re always preaching that. Being present.

What did that even mean?

So what if my mind wandered? So what if I’m hyper and sometimes so hyper I missed what’s going on around me? They would be, too, if they grew up where I did, the way I did.

Being present sucked, especially now. I mean, more so now than ever.

Could we go back to talking about Cut?

“Cheyenne.”

That was my dad talking.

“What?” I looked at him. He was frowning at me, sitting in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest. He dressed up for this meeting—a business suit. Natalie’s here, too, heaving a sigh, like she usually did when she’s around me. I’ve noticed she didn’t do that when Chad was around. I couldn’t say how she was around my other brother because I obviously didn’t know him.

I didn’t think they even knew that I knew about him.

Let’s talk about that.

Why haven’t they told me?

It’s not like I’m this horrible person.

I didn’t do anything. I mean, the worst I did was think, think and talk to myself, not be present—which I could see my dad knew I was doing again.

He got the same look on his face every time he’s exasperated with me.

His mouth flattens. His nose wrinkles a little, and it looks like he’s constipated or something.

Now he’s uncrossing his arms, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

He does that a lot when I really frustrate him.

“Cheyenne.”

Aw crap. It was the counselor again. She was being more insistent, and I needed to focus. If I didn’t, she’d get mad. Then I’d be asked to leave so they could talk, and nothing good was discussed when I wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah?”

She was trying. I could see the effort, but even her face was tight and rigid. She nodded toward Deek and Natalie. “Your father is wondering if you feel comfortable enough to return to your mother’s care?”

That.

I felt a knot coming up my throat.

I knew I didn’t want to come to this meeting.

Deek cleared his throat, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been at our house for six months, and we’ve made accommodations and changes so you’d feel comfortable there. If you choose to remain there, we do need to discuss bringing Chad and Hunter back into the house.”

Hunter! That was his name.

I didn’t think my dad realized that was the first time he’d referenced him in front of me.

Natalie wasn’t looking at him. She had that same blank and somewhat peeved look directed at me. Thinking on it now, she looked similar to my dad whenever they had to deal with me.

Maybe they had mentioned the other brother before, but I didn’t think so. I would’ve remembered. Who forgets their own brother’s name? Not me. Especially not me. I’d never had a brother before.

Hunter.

Now I knew his name, I was never forgetting it.

“Cheyenne.”

I messed up again. My counselor sighed.

It wasn’t my fault that I was like this.

But it was on me to control it, so okay…

I had to concentrate here.

A deep breath in.

Hold—that never worked for me.

“My mom’s good again?” I asked.

Crap. That was a question, not a statement from me. I messed up there, too.

The counselor looked relieved. I was participating. She always got less snippy when I responded to her.

“She’s graduated to the halfway house, and she’ll be able to leave as early as this week. She’s reached out and requested to see you.”

I frowned. Why? I shrugged. “Nah. I’m good.”

All three adults shared a look at that.

See! I’m so focused here. Noticing everything. Every. Thing.

“What do you mean, you’re good? You don’t want to see your mother, or you don’t want to live with her?”

See her. Duh. It’s always the same. She’d come out of those places happy and hippie and seeing rainbows and talking about angels. She’d be