Sia by Josh Grayson
Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary
Goodreads
When seventeen-year-old Sia wakes up on a park bench, she has no idea who or where she is. Yet after a week of being homeless, she’s reunited with her family. At school, she’s powerful and popular. At home, she’s wealthy beyond her dreams. But she quickly realizes her perfect life is a lie. Her family is falling apart and her friends are snobby, cruel and plastic. Worse yet, she discovers she was the cruelest one. Mortified by her past, she embarks on a journey of redemption and falls for Kyle, the “geek” she once tormented. Yet all the time she wonders if, when her memories return, she’ll become the bully she was before…and if she’ll lose Kyle.
While I wait for my driver, I sit on a step outside the school. I watch the kids go by. No one stops to say hello to me, and I'm starting to understand why. Then I see Kyle trudging out of the school, shaking his thick brown hair back from his brow. I decide to go talk to him. But he changes direction when he sees me approaching.
“Wait! Kyle? Is that your name? Kyle?”
He stops, but doesn't turn around.
Undaunted, I run up from behind. “Listen, I just wanted to apologize for Duke in the cafeteria today.”
“Why? Can’t he take care of that himself?”
“I guess he can, but I don’t think manners are his strong point.”
Kyle squints at me, trying to read my expression, so I keep my eyes wide open. If he's looking for dishonesty or cruelty, I'm determined he won't find any there.
“I don’t get it,” he says skeptically. “Why would you apologize to me?”
I shrug. “Because it was wrong of him to be like that.”
“If you're gonna apologize on behalf of Duke, you should apologize to Ben, not me.”
“Um…okay, I will.”
After a moment of quiet, Kyle says, “Okay. Thanks.” He sniffs and looks at the ground, obviously uncomfortable. “As long as we’re apologizing, I guess I owe you one, too.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry about yelling at you at the soup kitchen. That was you, right?”
I nod.
“So I guess it was my yelling that made you run into the street, wasn’t it?”
I nod again.
“Well, I’m really sorry. About all that. I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn't. Don’t worry about it.” I look down the street, past Kyle, but I can't see John and the car yet. I glance down at my nails, still torn and ratty from living homeless. “What were you doing there, anyway?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I volunteer there sometimes.”
“Oh.”
“My parents own a bakery nearby. I work there almost every afternoon. When we have day-old bread and stuff, I take it over to them.”
“You…Oh!” I suddenly recall the slice of bread I'd enjoyed just before Kyle yelled at me that day. Soft, homemade, and unforgetable. It brings a smile to my face. “Well, I know from personal experience that they really appreciate that. It’s very generous of you and your family.”
“It’s the least we can do.” He hesitates. “So you’d been eating there?”
“Yup. All week. With my friend Carol.”
“Carol? That older lady? I know her. She’s sweet. Helps a lot of the kids out. I guess she’s kind of a teacher for lost souls, huh?”
“You could say that,” I agree, remembering my wise friend fondly.
A dark car pulls up to the curb.
I smile with apology. “Sorry, but I have to go. That’s John, here to pick me up. So are we okay?”
“We?”
“Yeah. You and me.”
After a second, he returns my smile and holds out a hand. “Sure.”
I step closer so I can shake it, and while I'm there I purposefully inhale the smell Amber had so detested. She's right. He smells like bread. Banana bread, I think. And cinnamon. Not unpleasant at all.
• • •
By the time we return to the bakery, it’s ten o’clock. We stand outside the door talking for a while.
I glance at my wristwatch. “I have to head home,” I say reluctantly.
“Let me drive you,” Kyle offers.
“You have a car?”
He offers a little shrug. “Not exactly. Wait here.” He disappears into the store, leaving me to wait on a bench outside. A few moments later he returns via a side alley, astride a small, beat-up motorcycle. Exhaust rattles against the alley's brick walls. Kyle grins at me and holds out a white helmet. “Climb on!” he shouts over the noise.
I look at the bike, hesitating.
Kyle laughs. “What? You’ll take on the psychos of LA at night, but you’re afraid of a little bike ride?”
Determined not to appear weak, I garner my courage and climb on behind him. He tugs his sweater over his head and hands it to me.
“It’ll be cool once we get going,” he warns. “You should wear this.”
“But what about you?”
He shrugs. “I’m used to it.”
There's already a chill in the air, and I have no doubt the bike ride will be freezing. As much as I want to refuse, I decide the sweater is a necessity. “Okay, thanks.” I pull his sweater on and can't resist inhaling as it slides over my head. I think of Amber complaining about him, but again my nose is graced with that doughy, cinnamony sweet smell, and I don’t see how she could insult him. I hug my soft, woolly arms around my body, feeling absurdly pleased. Being with Kyle is making me happy. I start to wonder if he feels the same way about being with me. Could he? After everything I've done in the past? Probably not. I mean, really, we have nothing in common. Until a few hours ago he couldn't stand me. There's no point in getting interested in him that way, I tell myself.
“Do you know where I live?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “Everyone knows where you live, Sia. Helmet.”
I slide it over my head.
Kyle looks back. Once he sees that it’s on right, he gives me a thumbs up. “Hold on,” he suggests.
Battling an insane rush of shyness, I lean against him and wrap my arms around his waist. He’s lean, I discover, but not as skinny as I'd originally presumed. Muscular, not weak. When he pulls into the street I squeeze my eyes shut, expecting a crash at every turn. But after a while I relax and start to enjoy the ride. And though I know I have no right, I secretly relish the strong, solid feel of his body within my arms. By the time we get close to my house, I wish we could just keep on driving.
• • •
I reach my locker and just start unlocking it when Kyle stops beside me. He’s dressed comfortably in faded jeans and a black t-shirt with a yellow Batman logo on it.
I smile broadly. “Hey.” It's hard to describe just how good I feel, seeing him there. Yet I don’t miss the stunned expressions on Amber and Stacy’s faces, or how they spin towards each other to whisper something. In Amber’s world, Kyle is a loser, so I’m sure their words aren’t pleasant.
I turn my back to them.
“Hey,” he replies. He keeps his eyes purposefully away from the other girls. So he knows, I think. What must that feel like, knowing people are looking down on you? Saying cruel things? He doesn’t deserve this.
But he doesn't appear to care. He leans casually against the locker beside me. “Just thought I’d tell you I saw Carol this morning at the soup kitchen.”
I drop my lock and give him my full attention. “You did? Was she okay?”
He nods, grinning at my reaction. I can’t help thinking how much I like his smile. It's warm and genuine, and makes his grass-green eyes sparkle like emeralds. “Yeah. I told her hi for you. She said she can meet you at Elysian Park after school if you want to talk.”
“Awesome, Kyle! Thank you so much!” I throw my arms around his neck without thinking.
After only a slight hesitation, he hugs me back. I breathe in his delicious cinnamon scent, then let go reluctantly and back away. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have your sweater in my—”
Before I can finish, Duke charges in like a bull and slams Kyle into the lockers. “What do you think you’re doing, geek?” he roars. “You keep your floury hands off my girl, doughboy. She’s mine.”
Kyle pushes back, pressing his hands against Duke’s broad chest. “Get off me, Duke.”
But Duke isn't finished. He jams his forearm against Kyle’s neck, suffocating him.
Kyle’s fingers clutch at Duke’s arm as he struggles to break free.
I shove at him. “Duke! Let go!” my shouts echo in the hallway, but even with all my strength, I can’t move him.
“Back off, Sia. I’ll take care of this twerp,” Duke snarls. “He needs to learn a lesson. Nobody touches my girl!”
“That’s right!” Stacy chimes in from behind them. “Sia belongs to Duke!”
I belong to Duke? The nerve of these people!
The two girls press against each as they watch the action. Amber is smiling like a satisfied cat, obviously relishing the moment.
I'm so busy trying to rip Duke’s arm off Kyle's throat that I don't hear Mr. Barrow coming up from behind us. “Duke, would you mind letting go of Kyle? We don’t condone murder in our hallways.”
Finally, Duke drops his arm. But his furious stare remains glued to Kyle’s face.
Kyle stares back, his eyes dark with hate and humiliation. He doesn't bother swiping back the thick brown bangs that have fallen over his forehead during the struggle. “You have nothing to worry about, Duke,” he chokes out. “I’d never go out with a girl like Sia anyway. She’s your type. Not mine.” With that, he walks away, rubbing his throat.
I watch his back as he is swallowed up by the crowds in the hall. The sea of backpacks and t-shirts blur as my eyes fill with tears. It shouldn’t hurt so much, I think. I barely know him. And yet it does hurt. A lot. Like a fist squeezing my heart.
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Josh Grayson was born in Mexico, raised in Massachusetts, and now lives in Martinsville, Virginia. It was his move to the South that stirred his imagination and gave him the courage to start writing. During his free time, Josh enjoys reading, jogging, swimming, and watching YouTube videos.
Josh currently works as a medical driver, shuttling people all over Virginia and North Carolina. He has also worked as a machinist, film sales rep, administrative assistant, and telemarketer (he apologizes if he called you).
Sia is his debut YA novel.
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