Binding Off

  An Always the New Girl Prequel

  Kelly Vincent

  KV Books LLC

  Copyright © 2022 by Kelly Vincent

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For everyone who always sees the end of one thing

  as the beginning of another

  Contents

  August Eighth Grade

  Acknowledgements

  Thank You and More

  August Eighth Grade

  “You stupid bitch!” Mom’s boyfriend Steve yelled in the hall, jolting me out of my doze. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  “It’s not what you—” she started. I pulled the bedspread up to my chin.

  “I should have known you’d do this.” Steve laughed, but I knew he didn’t find it funny.

  “It isn’t what you think,” she cried.

  I didn’t know what was going on, but it sounded way worse than the normal way Steve talked to Mom. My stomach tensed. It was hot under the covers.

  “You need to get out,” Steve growled. “Now.”

  Get out? He’d never said anything like that before. My stomach churned up thick, black fear.

  “You and that mini you.”

  Then there was a crash against my door and Mom came stumbling in, her tear-soaked cheeks puffy and red. Her eyes were wide with fear. I pulled the blanket up to my neck and saw Steve wearing nothing but jeans. He crossed in front of the door on his way to the living room.

  “Come on, honey,” Mom said, her voice husky from crying. “I need you to get up and get your stuff. We have to go.”

  “Go? Where?” We’d been living with Steve for over a year and I’d thought we were going to stay. The last two guys had only lasted a few months, but Steve was okay most of the time. Mom must have done something. Had he caught her on a dating app?

  Mom sniffed just as Steve reappeared in the doorway, unshaven and red-faced. “Hurry up!” he yelled, his head jerking his long blond hair.

  Mom and I both flinched. He’d never been this mad before.

  She rested her forehead against mine for a second and said, “Get your stuff, Sarah.”

  I jumped out of bed and grabbed jeans out of the dresser.

  “You better get a fucking move on,” Steve said from the hall in a tight voice.

  “Jesus, we’re going,” Mom croaked.

  “Don’t talk to me that way, you slut.” He stormed into the room, got in her face, and growled. “I can’t believe you thought you’d get away with that, Katie.” He spat her name.

  I was trembling as I reached for a handful of underwear. Steve left again and Mom picked up my backpack, took everything I was holding, and crammed it all in.

  “Get what you can,” she said in a low voice. “We have to go.”

  I wasn’t going to even be able to get dressed? I was just in shorts and a tank top. I darted across the room and snagged my knitting bag. Mom reached down for my green Chucks and shakily put them in the backpack before crushing it to her chest.

  I glanced over at the door and saw Steve blocking it. I tried to swallow my fear. He wasn’t a big guy, but still he was a guy, his hands clenched into fists at his side. And his face was gleaming with sweat.

  Mom grabbed my hand and pulled me, stopping in front of him since he was blocking the way.

  “We’re trying to go, like you want,” she whispered.

  He stepped aside and Mom dragged me out, but he apparently couldn’t resist the opportunity to push her on the back as she passed so she stumbled forward, yanking my arm.

  We worked our way down the hall. By the time we had the front door open, Steve was behind us again and shoved me out. I stubbed my bare toe on the cement and only caught myself on the green metal railing opposite the apartment’s door, my knitting bag smashed between me and the railing.

  “And get your bitch shit out of my house.”

  I turned around in time to see him throw an open Costco box of tampons. They sprayed everywhere, littering the ground.

  Mom grabbed my hand again and we marched down the second-floor walkway to the rusty faded red stairs. At the bottom, I looked back and saw a small dark spot on every step. Blood from my toe.

  We got to our old gray Corolla that I prayed would start. We dropped my backpack and knitting bag in the trunk.

  “What about your stuff?” I asked. All she had was her purse.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Her voice cracked.

  “Bitch!” Steve yelled from the second floor. More tampons came flying off the walkway into the parking space next to the car. I ran back to pick a few up because I actually needed them right now and it was becoming clear that nothing was certain about the next hours … days?

  The door right in front of me opened. The old lady who lived there looked up toward where Steve was standing and shouted, “Shut the fuck up, you asshole!”

  Steve leaned over the railing and said, “Fuck you, Rita.”

  I scooped up four tampons and raced back to the car. Mom was already inside and I scrambled into the passenger seat, the calming scent of the vanilla air freshener weird given what was going on.

  “But your knitting, Mom,” I said. She had her own bag of projects. And all the sweaters she’d made …

  She gripped the steering wheel and rested her head on it, breaking into sobs.

  I just stared. I mean, what had just happened? And why? I looked at her, wondering if I should ask. Probably not.

  Another tampon hit the hood and Mom’s head jerked up. Sniffling, she started the car.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  She gulped. “I’m not sure.”

  More tampons flew into the parking lot, one landing next to the car.

  Mom pulled herself together. “He found— I didn’t do anything,” she said, backing up. Then she pulled onto the road.

  We were quiet for a while, and eventually I wondered if we’d end up in the same town as my father, like I always hoped when we moved. Because we were definitely heading out of town.

  Two days of driving and two motel stays later, Grammy opened the door to her house and studied Mom’s puffy cheeks and red eyes. The aroma of vanilla escaped from inside, taking me right back to the last time we left here. It had been hard. Now, Grammy frowned and her jaw clenched. Her face had more wrinkles than I remembered from three years ago and she’d gone completely gray now. She was still wearing her typical jeans and a thin and faded Pearl Jam concert t-shirt.

  She looked at me and her face softened. “I got your old room ready for you last night after Katie called. Katie, you’ll have to put up with some boxes in yours.”

  Mom sighed and pushed her way past Grammy. “That’s fine, Mom. It’s not going to be for very long, anyway. I’m working on it.” She disappeared into the hall, her new duffel swinging by her side.

  How could she be working on it already? I hadn’t seen her on her phone that much since we’d left Steve’s.

  Grammy came out to give me a hug, Windex cutting through the vanilla. “You’ve gotten so tall.”

  “Well, I’m not ten anymore.”

  She laughed and let me go. “Come on in.”

  She headed into the kitchen and called, “You want some hot chocolate?”

  I smiled and followed her. “Sure.” Of course she offered, even though we were in San Diego, and even though it was late summer. She always did.

  I dropped my bag just inside the kitchen door and sat at her little table. We’d bought a duffel for me, too, at an army supply store in Phoenix, so it had everything I now owned in it, including my knitting, the clothes from the night we got kicked out, and a new pack of underwear—I was wearing the other things we’d bought. Grammy had a retro fifties tables, with a speckled Formica top and chrome edges, pushed up against the window. I sat in one of the three white padded chairs, which still squeaked. It felt like home, more than any of the many places we’d been since we’d last stayed here.

  The kettle made a bubbling sound as it came to life and I looked around to see if anything had changed. She still had the Van Gogh sunflower print on the wall behind me. The fridge was shiny and new, but everything else looked the same. Dark cabinets, old white range and dishwasher.

  She shook two packets of hot chocolate mix and then poured them into a couple mugs. Her back was to me when she said in a tight voice, “What was it this time?”

  “I think he caught her on a dating app.” Mom could hardly talk about Steve, she was so upset. Crying all the time, like always after a breakup.

  Grammy shook her head. I knew she didn’t approve of the way Mom lived her life, but Mom said she wasn’t doing anything with the new guy. I glanced at the kettle and the steam coming out of it. “He was just some guy, not anybody she was interested in.”

  The kettle clicked off. Grammy poured the water into the mugs and stirred each before bringing them over. She sat down.

  “Honey, moving from man to man the way your mom does—it’s not healthy.”

  “But the heart wants what the heart wants.” Mom always said that.

  Grammy shook her head. “It’s not good for you either. I just want more for you.” She took a cautious sip from her mug.

  “What do you mean?” It was true that Mom’s boyfriends were

n’t always the nicest, but she was always happy at first. She just hadn’t found the right one yet.

  I did know that when I finally got a boyfriend, I hoped he wouldn’t be as much of a jerk as Steve. And there was a good chance that would finally happen soon, since I was now in eighth grade. It seemed like I’d been waiting forever. There’d been a cute boy at school in Colorado I thought might like me. Maybe there’d be a boy here in San Diego, too.

  “I want you to go to college,” Grammy said.

  “College?” I breathed in the chocolate steam and then took a sip. It didn’t sound appealing.

  “You could go anywhere. Or go to UCSD and live with me.”

  “I don’t think that’s for me.” It so wasn’t. I mean, really. I hated school.

  “You’re a good student, Sarah.”

  “School’s not hard. But I don’t like it. I can’t imagine adding four more years on purpose.” I shrugged. “Besides, what would I study?”

  “Does it matter? A college degree is really worth something now. What do you think you’ll do after you graduate?”

  I narrowed my eyes. What was with the stupid interrogation? Besides, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I had loads of time to decide.

  Grammy must have noticed I was peeved because she didn’t say anything else. She looked over my shoulder, apparently deep in thought, eventually asking, “Do you still knit?”

  “Of course!” Thank God we’d changed topics. “Do you want to see what I’m working on?”

  “I’d love to.” She smiled, seemingly also glad to move on.

  I got the sweater out. Not that a sweater made any sense here—it was a better choice when we’d been in Colorado. But who knew where we’d end up next, anyway?

  Grammy took it and inspected the stitches. “Looks good. Nice and tight. And you’ve got the chevrons spaced perfectly.”

  “I can count, Grammy.” It made sense that she would appreciate my work, since she was the one who’d first taught me to do chevrons when we stayed here last. Of course, I’d gotten way better since then.

  She smiled. “I can teach you some more complicated stitches if you’re ready.”

  “That would be awesome, but what I really want is to learn to design my own stuff. I want to make more than some stupid-easy sweater.”

  “Oh, come on, sweaters are fun. But tell you what, you come with me to my knitting group and I’ll introduce you to a couple of the best designers I know.”

  “What, hang out with a bunch of old ladies?”

  “Who?” Mom said as she breezed in, barefoot and with wet hair.

  Grammy watched her open the fridge. “I’m going to take Sarah to my knitting group.”

  “To learn to make tea cozies?” Mom joked. She took a can of Diet Coke out of the fridge.

  “There are some really talented women there.”

  Mom leaned against the counter, popped the tab and took a sip. Her eyes looked even redder.

  “What’s your plan, Katie?” Grammy asked.

  “I’ll need a few weeks. A couple months?”

  “You know you’ll have to get Sarah enrolled in school,” Grammy said tightly.

  “I know that, Mom.” Her voice was also tense. She looked off to the side. “But I don’t have her birth certificate. It’s still at Steve’s.”

  “I’ve got an extra copy. But you should get it back from him. To take with you when you leave.”

  “I know that, Mom,” she said again.

  Mom came over and rested her hand on my shoulder. “We can get you registered tomorrow.” She leaned down and kissed the top of my head. She’d been so affectionate since Steve, telling me I was the only thing that mattered to her.

  But great, one more new school to start at. And this one would just be for a few weeks before there would be yet another one. Sometimes I wished we could just stay with Grammy, but she and Mom didn’t like each other much, so living here was impossible.

  The last time we’d stayed with Grammy she’d offered to let me live with her after Mom left, but Mom had been so obviously hurt that I didn’t seriously consider it. Plus I couldn’t imagine not living with Mom. I’d miss her too much. And she’d miss me.

  Life was crazy with Mom, but it was my life.

  Now I just had to get ready to be the smiling new kid again, and hope I’d make friends fast.

  I started school on the following Thursday, in the last week of September. I so hated being the new kid. But I’d had plenty of practice. I’d been to a total of five schools in my life. And we never moved at convenient times—usually it was mid-semester. Mom never planned it. It just happened.

  My first class of the day was Spanish. The campus had several buildings and I had to walk to a different one from the office to get to class. There was a whole series of lockers out here, open to the air, which was weird. But there was a lot of sun, so it was fine, I supposed.

  I knew to be careful as the new girl, since kids usually had their assigned seats, so I didn’t go in until just at the bell. Most of the seats were taken and there was a rush of kids who came in around me and snagged most of the desks in the back.

  There was an empty seat near the middle of the room, next to a guy with black hair and a loose white button-down shirt with a chain hanging down from the pocket of his jeans.

  On the other side of the seat was a girl who was actually playing with her gum, holding it between her teeth and stretching it with her fingers. Nobody seemed to care to be there. I felt like I was in a classroom scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or something. Mom and I watched that movie at least once a year.

  The bell rang so I headed to the open seat before the teacher could say anything.

  The boy glanced over at me and his surprising green eyes widened slightly. My heart did a little flip and my eyes widened as I noticed he was cute. I forced myself to calm down and smile.

  “Is Sarah Redmond here?” the teacher asked. She was middle-aged and had a proper Spanish accent. She was short and wore a baggy yellow dress.

  I raised my hand slowly. “That’s me.”

  “Hola. Welcome to the class. You have been taking Spanish at your other school?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you have the book?”

  I held it up.

  “Bien.” She smiled. “Abran sus libros a la página cincuenta y cuatro. Open your books to page fifty-four.”

  During class, the boy—I’d learned from the teacher calling on him that his name was Mateo—glanced over at me several times, tossing me a grin each time and making my whole body warm. His bangs were long and sort of fell in his eyes, but it didn’t seem to bug him. I buzzed with hope that he’d talk to me.

  When class ended, he looked toward the back of the room and then back at me with that lopsided grin I’d already memorized. He opened his mouth to speak but cleared his throat instead. “I’m Mateo.”

  When I saw his eyes spark, those brewing feelings came to the surface and I was immediately smitten and turned totally stupid.

  He laughed a little tightly before saying, “It’s nice to meet you, Sarah Redmond.”

  I’m pretty sure I blushed all the way to my fingertips. “Hi,” I finally mustered up, trying to control all the distracting feelings that were churning inside me.

  After a couple people from the seats in front of us squeezed past, we both stood.

  “Where’d you move here from?” he asked as we reached the back of the row and started following the flow out the door.

  “Colorado.”

  “Really? I’ve never been.”

  I nodded as we passed through the door into the crowded hall.

  I had to pull my schedule out to see where my next class was.

  “Where you going now?” he asked, sliding up beside me so he could also see the printout. He was really close, close enough that I caught a whiff of his breath, which was orangey. Just then he popped open a box of orange Tic Tacs and offered me one.

  “No thanks.”

  “Ah, you’ve got Sanderson for Science. He’s alright.”

  “Where’s the room?” I asked.

  “I can show you. Come on.” He started walking and I followed.

 

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