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Amber adjusted her short skirt as she click-clacked her heels over the sidewalk to the man opening the passenger side door of her car.
“Lunch hour has started at noon every day for three years, and you still can’t manage to be here on time?” she scolded.
The chauffeur tightened his lips, the expression of a man who knew he was only a minute late at worst but pointing that out would be the end of his paychecks. “Very sorry, miss. Where to today?”
She was about to slide into her seat and give him the name of the new upscale sushi place her friends recommended when she noticed the shape sitting by the rusted chain link fence.
It wasn't unusual to see Shilo all alone. At this private school filled with the children of the rich and famous, no one wanted to talk to the freaky nerd girl here on scholarship. Normally, Amber wouldn't be the one to break that trend. It wasn't like her to notice, to care.
Which is why even she was surprised when she told her chauffeur, “Wait here.”
She walked over, more hesitantly than her earlier confident strut, to the freshman dressed all in black. Shilo had always been short, but she seemed especially small now, holding her leggings-clad knees to her chest. She stared somewhere off in the middle distance, perhaps at the trees, perhaps at nothing.
Amber stopped and stood near, slightly self-conscious of how she towered over. “Hey,” she said. “Why aren't you in the cafeteria?”
Shilo didn't look up. “I’m not really hungry,” she muttered.
Amber took a breath. What exactly did people say in these situations? She hoped she got it right. “I just wanted to… give my condolences.”
That got Shilo to turn her gaze. Her eyes didn't have the redness of crying, but were nonetheless heavy and tired. “How did you know?”
Amber wasn't sure what to tell her. She heard what her dad said on the phone when he carried on business calls as if she wasn't in the room. She remembered the muffled voice coming through the speaker not too long ago.
“Nathan has a daughter, and he's the only family she has. You can't tell me you seriously want to cut his benefits.”
“I can, and I will,” Dad replied. “He's no good to me if he can't do his job.”
“The man is on death's door!” the voice on the other end pleaded. “Have a heart, please. For Shilo.”
A shortened version of the truth was probably the safest option. “He worked for my dad, right? He's the one who told me.”
She turned and slouched against the fence, and it rattled behind her back. Shilo flinched slightly, either from the sound or from Amber getting so close to her.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Amber processed it, thought, and rolled her eyes. “I don't want anything, I'm just talking to you. Don't make this fucking weird.”
Still, Amber could tell that she had, in fact, made this weird. She'd crossed a social boundary not meant to be crossed, where popular rich girls and girls who read books about moths during free period were to stay firmly on their own side. At this school, built on image and status, it would take something unspeakable to bridge the gap.
Daddy's business wasn't the only thing he talked about on the phone. There were other conversations, ones held with doctors, spoken only in whispers as if saying it out loud would make it true. But they were loud enough to reach Amber's ears. She knew he was sick, sicker than he was willing to let on.
What did she want from talking to Shilo? She wasn't ready to admit that. But she could extend an olive branch.
She reached down and unknotted the sleeves of her dyed denim jacket, the one her buzzkill teachers insisted she tie around her waist today so she didn't flash her underwear when she bent over, and handed it to Shilo.
“Here. I know you like black clothes, so it's yours now. Just be careful with it, it cost over a grand.”
Shilo’s eyes went wide, and she took and held it gingerly, as if afraid it was all a joke and it would be ripped from her hands. “Wow,” she whispered. “I mean, thank you? I mean…” She shook her head. “I can’t accept this. That’s so expensive.”
“Hey, I said to not make this weird. Just take it.”
The younger girl nodded and folded the garment over her arm. “Thanks,” she said, smiling through the beginnings of tears. “I’ll try it on later. I don’t want to keep your driver waiting.”
Oh yeah, Amber probably needed to get back to him. She’d almost forgotten. Still, she turned to look at her one last time as she left.
As she sat down and the chauffeur shut her door, she found herself wondering if Shilo liked sushi too.