Free Sia by Josh Grayson

four-inch heels onto my bare feet. “There. Much better. Okay. Well, we’d better head to history class or Mr. Barrow will lose it again.” She looks at Kim, and both of them giggle. “Though you have to admit, it’s pretty entertaining when it happens.”
     

CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    Mr. Barrow is fairly young and handsome, with intelligent eyes that study each student as we come in. “Ah, Miss Holloway,” he says when I enter the room. “Are we all recovered then?”
    “ Mr. Barrow,” Stacy says, walking to his desk with me. “She can’t remember anything.”
    “ So I hear.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Really?”
    “ Really.”
    “ Hmm. This could be interesting,” he muses, albeit not unkindly. “All right. Let’s see what we can do, shall we? Take your seat. It’s the one beside Amber.”
    Amber gives me a smug smile when I settle in beside her. “The girls did a good job on you. You look hot,” she says.
    I don’t feel hot. I feel silly, like a clown wearing too much makeup, with funny clown shoes to match. And I know everyone is staring at me, waiting for me to either be myself—whoever that is—or to make a huge mistake and become the laughingstock of the school.
    “ History is so boring,” Amber mutters as Mr. Barrow gets to his feet. “At least I’ve got a nice view of Mr. Barrow’s tight butt. Makes this hellish class more bearable.”
    Now I feel hot, but not in a good way. Blood rushes into my cheeks and I look anywhere but at Mr. Barrow’s backside. Fortunately, he’s facing the class, so I can watch his face instead. It’s awkward, because I’m also doing everything I can to avoid looking at Amber’s face. The reality that I lied to Duke and effectively stole him from Amber makes me feel awful, even if she doesn’t know.
    “ Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, addressing the room. “If I could have your attention, please.” He waits for the volume to go down. “I’m assuming everyone knows about Sia’s condition. It’s a tough time for her. No one really knows when she might regain her memory.”
    My embarrassment stretches on into eternity. I stare at my teacher without blinking, well aware that every eye in the room is now on me.
    “ So I’m asking that you all help Sia through this difficult time. Can I get a commitment on that?”
    Scattered sounds of assent bubble up around the room, some more positive than others.
    “ Good,” Mr. Barrow says. “Now, on to history! Yesterday we were discussing . . . ”
    Slowly, my pulse returns to normal and my blush fades as class continues without me. It’s a strange, uncomfortable sensation, being in the spotlight like that. I know I need to figure out my place again, get back into the routine, but I’m painfully self-conscious, which only makes things harder. Perhaps returning to school so quickly wasn't the best idea.
    When class is over, Mr. Barrow tucks his books under one arm and leaves the room quickly. The students are slower, packing up their things and shuffling toward the exit.
    Amber is standing by her desk, watching everyone. As soon as she figures she can get everyone’s attention, she leads me to the front of the room and clamps her hands on my shoulders.
    Blood surges back into my face, and I wonder if it's possible to pass out from sheer embarrassment.
    “ Attention, everybody!” Amber announces. “Listen up. You all know what’s going on with Sia.” Her tone drops threateningly. “Treat her right . . . or you’ll answer to me. Understood?”
    I close my eyes. This whole experience is mortifying. I want to disappear, to melt into the floor. No one says anything, but I hear them quickly shuffle out of the room.
    When I can bear to open my eyes again, I see a familiar face, and I stare, incredulous. Standing by a desk in the back row is the boy from the soup kitchen. The one who had yelled at me before I was hit by the car. He is staring back at me, his expression soft. Remorseful? Does he actually feel