Wanderlove Part 6

I wasn't ashamed of my body. I loved my curves, especially when I danced with Lina. My curves made me feel feminine. But at the same time, I hated all the attention that came with it. I'd never been viewed as the typical teenager I was supposed to be viewed as, and that was due to the fact that I didn't look like one.

If I had any will power, I would simply put the jar back into the pantry and enjoy my egg whites. Instead, I picked up a piece of wheat toast and slathered it with the peanut b.u.t.ter. The creamy deliciousness won out over any reservations I might have had.

After breakfast, I decided to go shopping with Miriam. I had a few hours to kill before I started my second day of community service. And Miriam liked to shop, no matter the reason.

The quaint beach town didn't offer many clothing stores nearby. A few charming boutiques were our only options for the day.

Oddly enough, my lack of clothing reminded me of the many times my troupe would perform in public. Lina had performed for every type of audience, from diplomats to celebrities. We would often end up staying overnight in exclusive, overpriced hotels. Whenever this was the case, we'd sneak into the hotel room suites and steal any designer clothing or shoes we came across. If we found something we liked and that fit, we would take it. If we found jewelry we adored, we would take it, as well.

I guess I didn't realize how awful it was at the time. I only remembered thinking that the wealthy, posh ladies who owned the exorbitant amounts of clothes and bling would hardly notice a few things missing from their wardrobes.

And now I have no clothes, I thought to myself. It was probably justice in the making. Or karma, maybe.

For the first hour, it seemed like I would continue to have no clothes because the shops in town were only either selling beachwear or souvenirs. Thankfully, we found a small boutique, which carried more essential clothing for women. While we were there, I bought heaps of bras and underwear, a few sundresses and a pair of denim shorts. Miriam and I searched for more shops that sold regular clothing, but without any luck. I gave up and decided to buy a few tank tops from a touristy store, and then we called it a day.

"No worries," Miriam told me. "You'll be wearing your school uniform most of the time, anyway. I ordered a shipment the same day you enrolled."

I wasn't exactly a fan of uniforms, but I didn't tell Miriam how I felt. She seemed enthusiastic about it. I suppose it was a gaje thing.

Admittedly, I enjoyed fashion. I liked the clothing Auntie Zetta used to make for me. Even though she sewed either coins or some sort of jewels into almost everything she made, it didn't look garish. It always felt as if I were wearing a piece of artwork; the end result was ornate, beautiful and one of a kind.

It would be difficult conforming to the norm and wearing a uniform every day. Almost as bad as living in the same town every day. But if nothing else, I was grateful to have something to wear.

On the way back to the car, we pa.s.sed a stand where the peddler sold her own handcrafted jewelry. Miriam and I purchased from her stand. Miriam bought a pearl necklace with a matching ring. I bought numerous different bracelets, each with intricate weaving and jewels inlayed into the fabric. I thought I might offset my future life in uniforms with pretty bracelets.

"You're going to wear them all?" Miriam asked me as I fastened each of my new bracelets to my wrists.

"I can't choose only one."

Miriam raised a brow at this. "Come along, then. I'm starving. What do you say we grab a bite to eat before you start your community service?"

"Sounds great."

I followed as she headed into another direction. "I know a great place that sells the most amazing spinach salads. . ."

EIGHT.

I was under the impression that my first few days of school were supposed to be dreadful. I wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe from movies and television. So it was a nice surprise to realize that it wasn't as horrible as I was expecting. The whole experience was actually kind of fascinating. There were so many complexities to high school life.

I especially loved the element of mixing different subjects all in one day. On the road we had an appointed professor, Katzi. But Professor Katzi would only teach one subject at a time. And even though we roamed the planet, the setting always felt the same. There were only so many topics one professor could bring to the table; therefore, learning sometimes became boring and mundane.

When I found out I would be taking six subjects all in one day- and from six different professors, I was afraid I might be overwhelmed. But now I was starting to think that learning a small portion of a subject each day would help me to retain everything.

Biology cla.s.s was my favorite, though I enjoyed music cla.s.s as well. The only awkward time of the day for me was eating lunch. The patios were filled with students conversing. Everyone seemed to already know each other, had already made friends. And I didn't know where to go or who to fit in with.

I was positive there wasn't a single student who didn't know who I was. Although it was the beginning of the school year, it was a still small school and news traveled fast. I was labeled as the new girl here. Well, technically I was one of four new students in the junior cla.s.s, though still the only girl.

I heard the whispers, saw the stares. The other students gossiped about me left and right, wondering where I had transferred from, why I wore so many bracelets, if my b.o.o.bs were fake, how much money my family was worth (apparently every student at this school came from a wealthy family), if my b.u.t.t was fake, how big my house was, why I didn't drive my own car, if my lips were injected and so on, and so on. I heard most of these topics come up in the girl's bathroom. I was surprised that everyone was so vocal about their curiosity, but then again, it was a small school.

I waited until all the girls had left the bathroom before I came out of my stall, causing me to be late for my second period cla.s.s. I lied to the teacher, telling her I ended up getting lost on the campus. The teacher believed my lie without even questioning me. It was probably because the majority of the gaje became lost on a regular basis. It amazed me how hard it was for some people to find their way around. Even though I pretty much sucked at being a gypsy, I could at least claim an incredible sense of direction. I knew how to quickly scan a map and learn a location within seconds. But most times, I didn't even need a one. I just seemed to find my own way. I knew it wasn't much, but since I couldn't see into the future and I had no recollection of my past lives, I figured at least it's something.

When lunchtime came, I ate alone on a cement bench in the courtyard, out of sight from the rest of the students. It felt nice to have a moment of peace in the busy day. I searched around in my satchel until I found my peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwich. I had specifically made this sandwich for myself because I felt like it was the epitome of the American school lunch. Something I had never experienced until now.

"It's Lola, right?"

I turned, facing the bench to the left of me, pushing my lenses closer to my eyes. Surprised, I found a boy I'd heard called "Cam" sitting there. I recognized him because Professor Larson had kicked him out of history cla.s.s earlier. They had gotten into an argument about one of the World Wars. Cam had informed the professor that he was teaching his cla.s.s the wrong information. He told the professor (with a completely straight face) that our history books were filled with a bunch of bulls.h.i.t. It was rather amusing. Many of the students had chuckled in the background of their argument.

"Yes, that's me," I answered him. He was wearing his polo shirt with the collar popped up and his iPod was attached to his ears in the trendy, delinquent fashion I noticed seem to be all the rage among members of this school. It seemed the students here found small ways to stand out against the crowd.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you," he said. "We happen to be neighbors."

"We are?" I asked, surprised. There were only two houses near the area where Miriam lived. One had been abandoned and the other was the. . .

"Wait a second, you live in that huge mansion in front of the pier?"

Cam took a bite of his bread roll and nodded. Between bites, he stated, "Yup. That's me."

His personality made somewhat more sense to me now. He walked around like he was superior to everyone and everything. Almost as if he were wasting time going to school when he had better things to do, more important places he needed to be. I supposed it would have been a completely horrible trait for most people, but Cam carried a sort of conviction about him, which slightly redeemed him for his sn.o.bbishness.

"So, Lola, where did you come from? The student body has come up with all kinds of rumors."

I rolled my eyes, annoyed with the endless gossip. I was used to most people taking notice of me, though not for much longer than a glance since I never stuck around in one place long enough for anyone to start talking. It was weird, being the central focus of conversation. And I really didn't like it.

"Which ones have you heard?" I asked.

"Oh, you know, the usual. You're a rich heiress that lost her parents in a tragic accident. There is another one about how you were kicked out of your last school. Oh, and some believe you're a European model."

I could feel him scrutinizing my expression. I suspected he was trying to shock me. "My favorite one is your parents were drug lords who were caught and sentenced to life in prison."

Cam smirked at this. I sat up straight and stiffened, widening my eyes until they were rotund saucers. "How do they know?"

Cam's expression paled and his jaw dropped. But when he saw the grin tugging at my lips, he broke into laughter and I couldn't help but laugh, too.

"Nice one," he said. "I like you already."

"Well, that's awesome," I remarked happily. "Because I don't have any friends yet. Do you mind if I enlist you for the position?"

"Not at all. We are fellow Roms, are we not?"

My body went entirely still. I had completely forgotten. He was a Constantin, obviously. He was Gabe's brother. But Cam didn't really look much like Gabe, which is probably why it hadn't even occurred to me that they were brothers- or that Cam was of gypsy descent. Cam's hair was s.h.a.ggy and blonde, whereas Gabe's was dark and thick. The structure of their faces seemed different, but now that I was looking for it, I noticed their eyes bore the same shade of dark gray. The only difference was that Cam seemed to possess a lively sparkle in his. There was no sparkle in Gabe's eyes. They were just dark and penetrating. . .

"Lola, are you alright? It's just that you're Miriam's granddaughter and so I a.s.sumed that that's what you are. . .I didn't know for sure. Are you a Rom? I won't tell anyone, you know. It's my secret, too."

I shrugged, a little dazed from thoughts of Gabe. "Yeah, I'm a Rom. And it's no big deal," I said. "I knew you and your brothers were-- I mean Miriam told me about you and how you are--"

"Abandoners?" he finished for me.

"Yeah," I admitted, sheepishly. Abandoners were frowned upon in gypsy society and were usually never again welcomed amongst the tribes. Strangely enough, I was relieved to hear Cam say it. It meant we had something in common. Though I hadn't intended to leave the gypsy world behind, there would be many who would consider me a disgrace to have left my father's troupe.

Gypsy women never left their father, with the exception of marriage. On the other hand, if a man left his own troupe, it was usually out of disloyalty. And once a man had become disloyal, it was a discredit to his name. I couldn't help but wonder why Cam and his family had chosen abandonment.

"Does it bother you?" Cam asked me a few moments later.

"What? Of course not! I'd have to be a hypocrite for it to bother me."

"Ah, so you are a fellow abandoner," he surmised. "I have to admit I didn't expect you to be one. There are so few of them."

"I guess that's what I am. I ran away. And since I really don't intend to go back any time soon, I suppose that would make me an abandoner."

"It's nothing to feel guilty about," Cam said.

"Who told you I feel guilty?"

"n.o.body. I can hear it in your tone."

"Oh. So you have some kind of special ability?"

I had not intended my question to be perceived as a joke, but Cam laughed at me. "Yeah. It's called humanity," he replied.

I'm not sure why, but I didn't like that Cam was laughing at me. I guess it just annoyed me how easily I could be read.

"I am completely normal-- disappointingly. What about you?" he asked.

"I'm normal, too," I said. A little bit too normal, unfortunately. Too much like the gaje. But I didn't relay to Cam the fact that I couldn't remember my past lives.

"My brother Gabe can see things."

"Oh really?" I tried not to sound very interested. "So what does your brother see?"

"He can see everything around him, within a few miles' distance."

"You mean, like everything?" I looked downwards, trying to appear somewhat nonchalant. If I could hear the curiosity practically dripping from my voice, there was no doubt that Cam could too.

"Yeah. If I take our dog out for a walk, Gabe can see exactly where I am in the neighborhood- but only if he is looking for it. He can see the present happenings surrounding him. It's very weird. I've never met anyone who can see in the same way he can."

A lot of gypsies referred to their psychic abilities as the ability to "see." I believed it was common for them to feel as if they had a second sight.

"That is weird," I agreed. "I've never come across anything like it either."

I suddenly found myself wondering if Gabe could see me in Miriam's house. The thought was a little creepy. . .and yet oddly comforting. I wondered if he saw me the night in the storm. Was it because of Gabe that I was rescued?

Thankfully, Cam's voice regained my attention. "My third eldest brother, Rex, can sense things too. But he never talks about it."

"How many brothers do you have in all?"

"Just three. Baro, Gabe and Rex. We have a sister, too, Molly. She attends Frightwell. She's a senior."

"Wow. It must be interesting, having such a full house. I don't have any siblings, so I've never really known what its like, that bond."

"Really? That's odd for a Rom."

"Well, my mother died at a young age."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"It was a long time ago." I shrugged.

I heard the afternoon bell tolling from the courtyard and students began packing up their things to leave. I was disappointed to leave so soon. Although I was enjoying the school day, it was nice to have this small reprieve.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Lola," Cam said to me genuinely. And then with a note of hostility, he added, "Time to blend in with the rest of the gaje now."

"You don't enjoy this?" I asked, lightly chuckling.

He raised a thick blonde eyebrow at me that clearly conveyed his feelings.

"With that expression, I think I can guess for myself."

After the school day was finished, I raced home to remove my starchy uniform before starting my volunteer work. It felt great to be able to take it off. For some reason, I really detested those clothes. Afterwards, I threw on a much less restricting purple t-shirt and the pair of jean shorts I purchased with Miriam.

On my way to the beach, I decided I should probably cut down my service to two or three times a week instead of going every day. It was only the first day of school and I already had a pile of homework waiting for me back at the house. Since Miriam was spending so much money on my education, I really didn't want to disappoint her with bad grades.

I checked in with the other volunteers, who usually met at the pier. We all had to check-in with our district leader, who supplied us with golf carts and trash bags for collection. Our district leader was a firefighter named Hank. He looked like he was in his late fifties, but he was in good shape; his shoulders were broad and his arms were ma.s.sive. I supposed there weren't too many fires to worry about in this small town, which was probably the reason he landed his position with Habitat for Humanity. But he was perfect for the job. He was a no-nonsense, very stern man. He rarely smiled, either. He simply handed out instructions along with the trash bags. I suspected he was forced to take on that persona because most of the volunteers were there on court orders. And many of the others were high school students trying to gain their required community service hours.

As I made my way to the front of the line, Hank handed me a trash bag and a set of keys.

"Name?" he asked.

"Lola Moori," I answered.

"Do you have papers?" he asked.

"No, sir." He glanced down at me after checking my name off of his clipboard.

"You do know you're supposed to bring them to receive credit, right?"

"The hours aren't required at my school. I attend Frightwell and Black's."

Hank raised a brow skeptically. "And you're not here through the juvenile court?"

"No, sir."