Unsupervised (Slumming It Book 1) Read online

  Unsupervised

  Slumming It: Book One

  S.M. Shade

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Where to find S.M. Shade

  Acknowledgments

  More by S.M. Shade

  Copyright © 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art by Ally Hastings

  Chapter One

  Kelly

  It’s official. I’m on my own. Like a baby bird shoved out of a nest except I threw myself out and I’m not soaring through the sky on a glorious rush of freedom. No, I’m the pitiful bird you see flopping on the ground like a disembodied testicle.

  But I am free.

  A little too free today since I was just fired from a job I barely had for three weeks. The small hope that none of my roommates would be home dies when I park between Remee’s car and Zara’s car. Serena must be at work.

  Hot air assaults me as I step out. The humidity and heat of southern Indiana summers always feel like an attack. No matter how much you understand that it’s hot out, that first blast of it when you leave the comfort of air conditioning is still a shock.

  The neighborhood is unusually quiet because of the sticky weather, but Gavin, the man who lives a few doors down from me, smiles and waves as I make my way to my front door. Fumbling for my keys, I wave back, forcing a grin.

  I’ve only lived here a little over a month. In the beginning, I was apprehensive. I mean the street sign that bears the name Violet Circle has an n scribbled in between the e and t with marker, and everyone calls the place Violent Circle. My brother, Trey, who lived here before me, assured me the neighborhood can be a little strange and over the top, but it’s not dangerous. It’s not the way I’m used to living, that’s for sure. Moving from my upper-class parents’ home to an apartment in a government housing complex has been a culture shock to say the least.

  Zara looks up at me from her place on the couch when I enter. “Hey, I thought you had to work.”

  “Um…yeah, change of plans.”

  “Are you sick?” Remee asks, pulling her attention away from the textbook propped on her lap.

  “No.” Slumping into the recliner, I mumble, “Fired.”

  Zara leans forward, regarding me. “What happened?”

  Embarrassment heats my face. “I burned a tray of bread.”

  “They fired you for that? That’s ridiculous!”

  Sighing, I shake my head. “I burned a cake yesterday, and I may have accidentally caused a grease fire last week.”

  A snort of laughter leaps from Remee, and she covers her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing that you got fired. But you’re the worst cook. A bakery probably wasn’t the wisest choice.”

  Zara bites back a grin, and I know they’re both remembering the charred mess I made attempting a simple pot of chili. Or the accompanying cornbread which could’ve doubled as a hockey puck.

  When I look from one of them to the other, a giggle escapes me, and I feel some of the weight of my terrible day lift as they burst into laughter along with me. I haven’t known them long, nor Serena either, but I like them.

  When I ran an ad for roommates, I didn’t expect three girls who were already friends would move in, but they had just lost the lease on their last place since the landlord decided to sell. It’s a little intimidating to be the new person, but they’ve never made me feel like an outsider.

  “The Superstore bakery was the first place I saw that was hiring.”

  Remee closes her book. “You need to look for something more suited to you. Something you’re good at.”

  “I’m not good at anything.” That’s not entirely true. I’m excellent at faking a smile, at small talk and keeping up appearances. It was what mattered most to my mother. I’m well aware that kind of pressure has led to some of my anxiety issues.

  “Yes, you are. You just haven’t figured out what yet.” Zara swipes an errant curl out of her eyes and glances at the clock. “I have to get moving. Today is story time followed by the Lego club. We’re holding a job fair on Friday. A lot of nearby businesses will be there to recruit. You should come.”

  Zara works at the town library, running the children’s programs, which is perfect for her since she’s majoring in Library Science.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “It starts at nine o’clock,” she tells me, then heads off to work.

  Remee pulls her book back into her lap. “I can help you create a resume tonight.”

  “It would have one line. Worked three weeks at a bakery and tried to set it on fire,” I groan.

  “There are ways to spruce it up. You just have to know how to bullshit.” She grins at me. “Unless you want to go work at Glitties with Serena.”

  “Hard pass,” I laugh. “I’d love some help with a resume. Thanks.”

  Hopefully, I’ll be able to find another job before Trey finds out I was fired. My brother is a good guy and he inspired me to take this leap away from my old life by doing it himself first. He worked his way through school while living in this apartment with his friends and he now has a great life with his own family. He did it on his own, and I want to show him that I can too. I also need to prove to myself that I can be successful without my parents’ money, or a man supporting me.

  I’m terrified, but for the first time in my nineteen years, I’m also free.

  One thing I did agree to let Trey help me with was tuition because otherwise, it would’ve meant taking out student loans. I may not know much about living without money at my fingertips, but I know half the kids my age are in over their heads with those high interest loans. No full time job I’m qualified for would pay enough to make tuition plus rent and food. When I argued with him about taking his money, we came to an agreement that I could pay him back once I graduate. A student loan with no interest or strict payment schedule. I couldn’t say no to that.

  “How are you doing homework when classes don’t start until tomorrow?” I ask Remee.

  “Just reading ahead. I finished my sociology text yesterday. It was much more interesting than this history one,” she says, turning her focus back to the page.

  My stare must register on her skin because she peeks back up at me, one eyebrow cocked.

  “Have you ever gotten a grade that wasn’t an A?”

  “Yes, once, and I don’t plan to repeat the experience.” Looking back at her book, she grumbles, “It was a stupid gym class that shouldn’t have counted anyway. So I can’t climb a rope. How many ropes does the average person get asked to climb in a lifetime? Like what are the chances I’m going to be sitting in front of a
board presenting my dissertation and one of them will go, ‘Oh, first climb this rope?’ It’s ridiculous.”

  I’ve clearly touched a nerve. “I’m sure graduating high school without a 4.0 GPA isn’t going to cost you in the long run.” My attempt to reassure her seems to backfire.

  “I was valedictorian of my high school. I was talking about sixth grade.” A loose tendril of hair gets shoved back behind her ear as she mumbles under her breath. “Stupid Mr. Miller.”

  Okay then.

  Leaving her to her studying, I wander into my room where my stack of textbooks wait on my desk, still in their shrink wrap. It probably would be a good idea to at least glance through them and see what I’ve gotten myself into.

  My first day of college has gone smoothly so far, much to my relief. I was a ball of nerves walking into my morning class, though I’ve never struggled with English, and judging by the syllabus, I shouldn’t have a problem.

  My second class today is Economics. Ugh, why did I let Trey talk me into this class? I’m only taking general education classes right now since I have no clue what career I want to have or what I want to be. It was never really offered as an option before and now that it is, I don’t have any idea what I want to do. Trey assured me that everyone should take an economics class and learn to manage money, no matter what career you end up pursuing, so here I am, settling into the last seat of the first row.

  Math has never been my thing, and I took a peek at the chapters of investing and returns in my textbook last night. It looked boring as hell. I’ll probably need to start grabbing a coffee before this class to stay alert, as it looks like a few other students have done.

  “Good morning!” a deep voice rings out, and a man walks in with a portfolio and laptop under his arm. I think I hear all the jaws of the women around me slap the desk in unison with mine. This can’t be the professor.

  This is not what an economics professor looks like. They’re supposed to be old and crotchety, wrapped in tweed, with a stern demeanor. They are absolutely not supposed to be that young, move with that kind of grace, or have a smile that makes me want to jump on the desk and throw my panties at him.

  “I’m Professor Layton Aldrich, but we aren’t going to stand on ceremony.” He leans against his desk and smiles out at the class. “You can call me Mr. Aldrich. I’ll call each of you by your last names, and if you have another preference, you can let me know. Sound good? Great.” He continues, not giving anyone a chance to answer. “First, let’s see who’s here.”

  He reaches onto the desk and grabs a tablet, tapping it a few times as he talks. “You know how teachers sometimes have you stand and go around the room to introduce yourself? Don’t you hate that? I’d never do that to you. You absolutely don’t have to stand.”

  The classroom titters, but I feel my muscles tense. I hate talking in front of a large group. It makes me anxious, and when I get anxious, I make an idiot of myself because I seem to forget certain words exist. My mind blanks, and I’ll stumble over the easiest stuff which just makes it worse. I need to rehearse what I’m going to say. I need to think, so hopefully he’ll start at the other end of the room.

  Introduce myself? Exactly how much information am I supposed to provide? I’ll just say my name and age and that I’m…what? What can I say?

  My internal panic is interrupted as I realize the room has fallen silent except for the teacher’s voice. Too silent. All eyes are on me, including those bright blue ones belonging to Mr…ugh I can’t even remember his name.

  “Miss? Are you with us?” One side of his mouth curls into a small smile.

  “Oh! Yes!” Well, that was fucking loud. Tone it down, girl.

  “What’s your name?”

  Oh God. Forget remembering his name, I’m not sure I can recall my own. When did it get so hot in here? Can they see I’m sweating like a fat kid playing dodgeball? It finally comes to me. “Kelly. Um…Kelly Bryant.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Bryant. So, three questions, just for an icebreaker. I’m not grading your answers.” The class chuckles, but all I can do is swallow hard. All the moisture in my mouth has disappeared. “First, tell us what you like to do.”

  I would but I’ve forgotten everything. I’m a complete stranger to my own brain right now and I know whatever comes out is going to be stupid. Too bad it doesn’t keep me from talking. “Oh…um…I don’t know. I guess I like to read…” What are they called? Don’t do this to me brain! “Um…you know…pages and stuff.”

  The giggles floating around the room don’t help, and I know my face must be turning red.

  “A reader. Good.” He smiles and nods at me like I’m not acting like a complete idiot. “Second question. Why did you take Economics?”

  It’s not what I expected, and I pause, blinking for a moment before giving him the honest answer. “My brother said I should. That everyone should.”

  “Smart guy.” He nods and takes a step back where he can lean on the desk again.

  I’m starting to relax a little. As long as I just look at him and pretend this is a regular conversation and that there aren’t forty other pairs of eyes on me, I might make it through without any other stupidity.

  “The last question is one you get to ask. What’s something you’ve always wondered about but never asked?”

  The words spill out of my mouth without any conscious effort. I’m not sure I actually spoke them until the roar of laughter rolls over me. “Do crabs think we walk sideways?”

  To Mr. Aldrich’s credit, he tries not to lose it along with the rest of the class. His hand goes to his mouth, but not quite fast enough to hide the wide smile I might’ve thought was sexy if it wasn’t there because I’m an idiot. His eyes glaze over as he fights the urge to laugh, and he shakes his head as the laughter dies down.

  “Ms. Bryant, that is—hands down—the best question I’ve ever been asked. I’ve never been so disappointed not to have an answer. I’ll have to get back to you.”

  Finally, he moves on to the next student, and I lay my hot face in my hands.

  Well, off to a great start, Kelly. What do you have planned for act two?

  I do my best to pay attention through the rest of the class, but between the fading embarrassment and the little smile Mr. Aldrich gets every time he glances my direction, it isn’t easy. Fortunately, the rest of the class only consists of student introductions, an overview of what we’ll be studying this semester, and a quick review of the syllabus. He ends up dismissing a bit early, and I make a beeline for the door.

  Out in the hot, early afternoon sun, I take a deep breath. I have an hour to kill before my last class, so I grab an iced coffee from the small café affiliated with the school. About half of the tables are taken by students. There are a few I recognize from class, but I’m not interested in joining them or trying to make friends today. A few minutes alone is what I need.

  It feels a little awkward to sit by myself. Before I moved, I would’ve never gone out for a coffee or to eat alone. My friends would’ve seen that as pathetic, and my mother would’ve had a heart attack. A quick glance around shows me that no one is paying any attention to me. Maybe doing things on your own isn’t as outrageous as I was led to believe.

  It gives me an opportunity to flip through my new school handbook. The section I’m interested in lists all the clubs and extracurricular activities available. There’s a long list since the university welcomes the community college students to join as well.

  Our campus is unique since it’s a combination of the state university and the town community college. Many students—me included—take advantage of the opportunity to attend classes at the community college, then transfer to the university after the second year. It saves a lot of money.

  Zara’s advice that I find something I’m good at has been ringing in my head. Maybe I’m not good at anything, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn something new. Now that I don’t have to worry about how my choices will be judged, I’m eager t
o try new things.

  The only thing I’ve ever been told I had a talent for was playing the piano. It’s something I really enjoy, but while my mother encouraged me to learn and even bought me a beautiful piano, my father made it clear that it was a novelty. Something to entertain, but ultimately a useless talent.

  Sipping my coffee, I read through the list of activities. Most of them are sports, and I’m hopeless at anything athletic other than yoga, but there are other options. Tabletop gaming, poetry writing, a school newspaper, glee club. Nothing catches my eye until I reach the bottom of the list.

  Adulting Club.

  Come and learn skills that aren’t generally taught in a classroom. Do you know how to change a tire or maintain a vehicle? Can you cook simple meals? Do you struggle with filling out tax forms or budgeting? Learn to be a successful, independent adult in a fun environment.

  I don’t know how to do any of those things. It’s embarrassing, and I assumed I was the only one with so many gaps in what seems to be basic knowledge, but that’s clearly not the case. I think I’ve found my after school activity.

  Before I can change my mind, I stop at the office and register for the club before heading to my last class of the day. General music. I’m surprised by the small class size of what I thought would be a popular elective, but I’m also glad. Everyone seems nice, and I’m comfortable in the small group.

  There is a range of experience and ability among us. A few people can sing, a few play instruments and can read music, while it’s clear a couple of students have chosen it because it seemed easy and have no experience at all.