A Tale Of Two Halves

Chapter 4

By the time I reach home, I am beyond exhausted from the events of the day. Elsie hasn't stopped talking the entire way home bless her. She's making out like I'm some kind of hero amongst the Poors and the thought of that terrifies me. I have survived quite well here in the last 11 years, and it's mainly because I have always kept my head down and kept out of the spotlight.

I mentally curse at Jared and resolve to do some serious grovelling the next time I see him. Apologise, beg, whatever it takes to get things back to normal. I'm sure Elsie will be disappointed, along with most of the Poors by the sounds of things, but this isn't about them. This is about surviving. It always has been when you're a Poor.

My house can't really be described as 'mine', considering I share it with 29 other Poors. The hallways are lined with bedrooms, each containing 2 or 3 beds. At the end of the hallway is the living room, which consists of old, worn sofas that have definitely seen better days. Nothing matched, due to the fact we had built this house up from empty over the years by secretly taking what the Rich left out for the bin collections.

I enter the living room, happily surprised to find it empty. I suppose everyone is probably finishing off their shifts. As I head for the stairs, I catch sight of myself in the one mirror we have. Christ, I look like shit. My eyes have huge purple bags beneath them and I look paler than normal. I reach my hand up to touch the stitches on my forehead. It isn't the neatest job in the world, but I know that Mama would have done her best considering none of us had any real medical training or the correct supplies to deal with something like that. I wonder to myself how she stitched my wound up and feel bile rise in the back of my throat at the image. I turn away from my reflection and head upstairs to my room.

On the first floor of the house, there are more bedrooms, a bathroom and the kitchen. I head towards the kitchen, not bothering to switch the lights on as I walk in. Grabbing a glass from one of the cupboards, I turn the tap on and hold the cup under the water.

Man, what a day. I run through the events in my head once more, and notice that each time Hardin appears in my mind, my stomach seems to cartwheel slightly. I ask myself the same question that has been whirling through my head since I first ran into him yesterday. Who is this guy? Nothing made sense about him. He was clearly a Rich, based on his black clothing, where he sat in class and the fact he sat and ate in the dining room earlier. But his interactions and attitude towards me suggest anything but a Rich. He'd seemed confused whenever I behaved the correct way around him, and I realise the only time he hadn't seemed confused was during our conversation after my trip to the 'kitchen emergency room'. I mentally scold myself for my casuality during that conversation with him, but hope the fact that my head had just been sewed back together will be enough to convince anyone who saw it that I was just slightly concussed and deluded.

"Tessa?" a voice pulls me out of my thoughts and the kitchen light clicks on. I look down at my hand which is now drenched in water, the cup filled long ago and now spilling water into the sink.
"God, sorry," I mutter, turning the tap off and drying my hand on the tea towel that hangs by the sink.
"Heard you've had a busy day," Jack laughs, opening the fridge and grabbing an apple. Jack arrived at this zone at a similar time to me, and he has been a good friend to me ever since. He's chilled, easy to talk to and takes his shit circumstances in his stride. Everything feels less intense when Jack is around, and I appreciate having him in my life.
"Oh God don't even start," I groan and he laughs again.
"Wasn't going to," he says, clicking off the light and leaving me in darkness again. "Good night Tessa," I hear him call from the hallway, and I'm appreciative that he seemed to sense my unwillingness to talk about the day's events. I down the glass of water, rinse it out and set it back in the cupboard. I head to the bathroom, pee, brush my teeth and make my way to my bedroom. Neither Elsie or Jennifer are back yet, Elsie having to leave me to go back to her shift after walking me home and Jennifer still on a booked job. I pull back the covers to my bed and settle down on the same mattress that I have had since the day I arrived here. I sigh deeply, and close my eyes.

My eyelids flutter open and the light of the morning fills the room. I sit up, rub my eyes and see Elsie doing the same thing. "Hello hero," she says with a huge smile on her face.
"I will hit you," I reply, returning her smile.
She laughs, climbs out of bed and heads towards the bathroom. I follow after her and we quickly get ready for school. Lessons today are Maths and Science - my two least favourite subjects purely because I am awful at both of them.

On the walk to school, Elsie rattles on about something or other, but I don't take in a single word she says. I manage to get in an occasional 'mhmm' or a 'yeah' and that seems to convince her that I am listening.
Really, I am thinking about Hardin. Specifically, how I was going to thank him for what he did yesterday. I run through different scenarios in my head, pinching bits from each one until I feel like I've created some sort of coherent speech that conveys how grateful I am. I consider asking if there was anything I could do to repay him, but change my mind when I remember that he is a Rich and that can be a loaded question depending on which Rich you were talking to.

I decide to try and grab him before class, but I am disappointed when class begins and I haven't seen him. Strange. I wonder where he is?

I spend the entirety of the two sessions trying to avoid and ignore the harrowing glares that Jared gives me every time he turns around. On one particular occasion, he turns, smiles at me, turns back to his friends and they all burst into laughter before the teacher shushes them and tells them to get back to their work.

As soon as the bell goes, I wait for the Richs to pour out of the room, mumble goodbye to Elsie and practically run to the kitchens for my shift. I avoid eye contact with every single person I see, terrified that Jared or one of his friends might be waiting for me.

It's actually a relief when I reach the kitchen, knowing that at least for the next few hours I will be Rich free. As much as Jared hates me, I can't imagine him lowering himself enough to step foot in the workplace of a Poor.