Текст книги "The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things"

Автор книги: Ann Aguirre

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“A bike?” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Well, yeah.”

“Sweet. Then we can double up. We’re going to a vacant lot downtown, not too far. I hope you have good balance.”

“I don’t trip over my own feet. Generally.”

“How do you get to school?” I ask.

“Bus, usually. But if I stick around to do something in town and miss it, then I walk.”

“That must take forever,” I observe.

“It’s not so bad.”

“So I’ll meet you outside after school?”

Shane nods. He drops me at my next class, and I spend the next two hours daydreaming. If there was a quiz in econ, I don’t remember. I hope I didn’t write my name on a blank paper. I join the throng streaming toward the front doors. Do I need anything from my locker? Trash bags. So I stop, load up, then head out. The crowd has thinned a little by the time I get outside.

Shane’s already waiting for me. I could so get used to this. “Hey. You ready?” I ask.

“Yeah. I can’t wait to go serve the community.”

“Hey.” I aim an admonishing finger at him. “Caring’s cool.”

He laughs, as I intend him to. Trying to act like I’m not nervous, I climb on the bike first and take the seat. Shane’s obviously done this before, as he swings on and pushes into motion. I hang on to his waist, trying not to stare at his butt as he pedals. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m totally looking. My backpack, stuffed with biodegradable trash bags, wobbles madly until I’m afraid we’ll tip. We’re both cracking up by the time we arrive at the lot, but he’s not even out of breath.

“I haven’t done that since junior high,” he says.

“I never have.”

And I thought I never would.

Normal pleasures like this are reserved for girls without a shadow staring back at them in the mirror. But whether I deserve this or not, I don’t care. It’s too sweet to stop.

CHAPTER TEN

Shane helps me off the bike, and I’m pretty sure I’m not imagining the intensity as he gazes into my eyes. We’re having a moment.

Which is promptly interrupted by Gwen blowing a whistle. “Awesome, everyone’s here. I’m dividing you up into pairs, and the team who fills the most bags wins a ten-dollar gift certificate from the Coffee Shop.”

She points at people seemingly at random, and I end up with Lila. I’m not sad about it. This gives me a chance to recover from riding behind Shane. At this point, I suspect Gwen of being the devil because she puts Shane with Ryan. The four sophomores are paired among themselves, which leaves Tara with Conrad, who looks more than usually stoned. Gwen gets Kenny, and the moment he finds out he’s not working with Tara, he exhales a sigh audible all the way over here. I think Gwen crushed his dreams.

Lila nudges me, a grin slowly spreading. “You and New Kid, huh? That was fast.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You let him ride your bike.” Somehow she makes this sound absolutely filthy. “I bet Ryan never did.”

As a matter of fact, she’s right, but mostly because he’s uncoordinated. Most guys eventually master their arms and legs, but he’s still struggling. I used to find his awkwardness adorable. Cassie probably did, too. I wish I didn’t feel bitter, but last year, I had such a crush on him, after his dorkiness crossed some kind of line until he was cool. The hours I spent wondering why he didn’t see me that way … I shake my head and sigh.

“Shut up,” I mumble.

“Are you blushing? Oh my God, you’re totally blushing.”

“Pick up some trash already.” I curse my fair complexion.

In the sun, I don’t tan. Ever. With enough exposure to daylight, I will freckle over every inch of my body. Since I worked inside most of the summer, I’ve got them down to a sprinkling on my cheeks and shoulders. It’s bright today, though, so I can expect a fresh crop just in time for fall. And nothing says hot like an uneven distribution of melanin.

Gwen thought to bring her iPod along with a dock that has a couple of small speakers. She blasts Black Veil Brides, which is supposed to make us rock out and work faster. It actually is pretty fun. Lila and I race to see who can get the most plastic bottles. This lot is absolutely disgusting. Even if I can’t get permission to plant a garden here in the spring, just getting the trash hauled away will make a huge difference.

It takes three hours, but eventually we have eight full bags, plus some random junk. I’m amazed when a truck pulls up. Gwen grins at me. “I bothered my dad to make some calls for us. And voilà! Phil is taking everything to the junkyard today.”

“Thanks. This is really impressive,” I say.

Gwen doesn’t answer; she’s counting piles before Phil can take them. Looks like Tara and Conrad gathered the most. He punches the air when he gets his five bucks, which is basically a latte or a frap. Still, it’s better than nothing. She’s more restrained, but she beams at Kenny, who cheers up a bit beneath his drooping Mario hat.

“That’s it,” Gwen announces, then she beckons to her dad’s friend.

Ten minutes later, when the truck pulls away, the lot looks fantastic. I can imagine how the garden will look. It would be awesome if we could do three different types: herbs, vegetables, and flowers nearest the sidewalk, adding both beauty and purpose to the wasted space. There are shops to either side of the lot. I think Aunt Gabby told me there was an inn here, a long time ago, but it burned down, and nobody cared to rebuild as this isn’t a tourist destination. There’s a motel out near the freeway, but this isn’t the kind of town that gets the bed-and-breakfast crowd.

“Good start,” Conrad says in his slow, dreamy way. “But we probably need to keep an eye on the place, make sure it doesn’t get junky again before spring.”

“Seconded,” Ryan murmurs.

That’s the first thing he’s said in my hearing this afternoon. I wonder what he and Shane talked about, if anything. Lila and I kept too busy for me to stare at them, but I was tempted. Gwen makes plans for a weekly watch program, and while I register my day to walk by, I’m only half paying attention. The meeting is breaking up by the time I tune back in again.

“Some of us are heading over to the Coffee Shop to wait for our rides,” Theo says.

I take that as an invitation, but I’m not interested. “I need to get started on my homework, but thanks. Next time?”

“Totally,” Kimmy says.

“That wasn’t horrible,” Mel is saying as the four of them stroll off.

“Next meeting’s at the library, usual time,” Gwen shouts and gets random finger gestures from people who are so done for now.

“So what’s next, Princess? Can we save a kitten from a tree?” Lila opens her eyes obnoxiously wide, so she looks like an anime character.

“Not tonight. I have to get home. And please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry.” She actually sounds it. “Old habits.”

I surprise myself by asking, “You want to come?”

She pauses, cocking her head in apparent contemplation. We’ve never done that, but she said she wanted us to be better friends. That means hanging out, right? Since I’m new at this, I’m winging it.

Finally she says, “Why not? Let me call my mom.” The conversation that follows is reassuringly normal. I hear Lila’s side, answering typical parental questions, then she hands me the phone with a sigh. “She requires corroboration that I’m running with a new crowd.”

“Hi, this is Sage.”

“Nice to meet you. Well, sort of.” Lila’s mom sounds friendly, curious, and desperately hopeful. “Did Lila really participate in some kind of project?”

“Yes, ma’am. We cleaned up the vacant lot between the dry cleaner’s and the hardware store. You can drive by and check it out if you like. I think it looks great. I’ve invited her to dinner at my house. If you want, I can have my aunt call you when we get there.”

She’s a little choked up. “No. No, that’s all right. I’m so happy she’s making some new friends.”

“Bye, Mrs. Tremaine.” I hand the phone back to Lila, who leans her head back in the classic Why-God-why pose.

“Well, that ranks among the more humiliating moments in my life. She doesn’t trust me at all anymore.”

“How come?” I ask.

“I got busted with some weed a while back. The stupid thing is, it wasn’t even mine. And I know everybody says that, but it really wasn’t. It was just stupid. Everything I’ve done in the last two years is stupid, starting with Dylan.”

“Dating him or dumping him?”

She cuts me a look. “What do you think?”

“The first thing.”

“Brilliant.”

When I turn, I nearly run into Shane, who’s come up behind me. His cheeks are flushed from wind and sun, his hair tumbling into his eyes. My fingers itch to brush it away, like he did for me once, but I’m not brave enough, especially with Ryan and Lila looking on. I tell myself that his smile warms just for me as he gazes down, that his so-blue eyes gain sparkle, but that might be wishful thinking. I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t know anything about guys. If I did, surely I’d have figured out Ryan’s not-so-cunning scheme long before he told me.

“I’m heading home,” Shane says, like he needs to tell me.

“See you tomorrow.” It’s a nothing of an exchange, but I’m smiling when I include Ryan in that statement, offering a parting nod.

“You want me to walk you home?” Ryan asks as Shane moves off down the sidewalk.

Lila takes half a step forward. “We’re fine.”

I know Shane has a five-mile walk ahead of him, and there might not be anything to eat. Dammit, I know too much about him now, and it bothers me. He doesn’t want me to feel sorry for him; and I don’t. I just desperately want to take care of him because, from what he’s said, it’s been a long time since anybody did. Since his mom was sick, she couldn’t, and his dad bailed. Plus, it will be dark soon—before I can think better of it, I run after him, leaving Lila and Ryan staring.

“Wait!” I’m digging into my backpack as I run. “You need some tape.”

“I do?” He’s adorable in his bemusement.

“Yes, it’ll keep you from getting hit at night.

“You realize there will be four cars on the road, maybe, the whole way home?”

“I don’t care. Please wear it?” If he makes me admit I’m worried about him, I will melt into a puddle of embarrassment. But I seem to have internalized my aunt’s fears.

“Okay, damn.” But there’s a fond note in his exasperation. I hope. Muttering, he takes the reflector tape and sticks it on his army jacket. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“G’night, Princess.” Somehow, when he says it, I don’t even mind … because he doesn’t mean it as a jab. Shane touches my nose lightly, then goes, glimmering, down the darkening street.

“That was kind of adorable,” Lila observes when I retrace my steps.

Ryan doesn’t seem to think so. In fact, he looks like I punched him in the stomach. He makes a good recovery, though, pasting on a smile. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d think he was fine. This is how his face looks just before killing a bug. Ryan loathes insects.

“So, taco night.”

I hope he’s not expecting an invite. My aunt’s chipotle seitan tacos are delicious; and he won’t be having any for a while. “Yep. Have a good night.”

Lila takes my arm in case I’m tempted to linger, but I’m not. I push my bike for a block before saying, “It’s over two miles. I’ll pedal. You can ride.”

“Seriously?” She shakes her head, but climbs on it.

This is less fun when I’m doing the work, but it’s good for me. It’s half past seven by the time we get to my house. The lights are on inside, which means Aunt Gabby is home and cooking. I push through the front door, calling out a greeting, and wipe my feet. She comes to the kitchen doorway, wearing her cute sunflower apron.

“Oh, you didn’t tell me we were having a guest.” But she’s glad.

Though she never says anything, she worries about my socialization. She thinks I try too hard to be positive and she’s afraid I don’t put enough effort into making friends. But she doesn’t realize how tough it is not to backslide after a bad day. I keep my temper under lock and key and, mostly, I’m okay. I treat rage like an alien that hides in a corner of my brain. My aunt is devoted to ensuring my life is as normal as possible—and I’m happy I’m done with therapy, finally. If I lose it, even once, I’ll have to go back, which is why I take such care never to lose my temper.

“This is Lila.”

Who says, “I’d shake, but we’ve been garbage picking. Is there somewhere I can wash up?”

“This way.” I show her to the bathroom, decorated in Aztec style, with orange and yellow accents. In the middle of winter, it’s a burst of much-needed warmth.

“Cute house.”

I beam because my aunt and I spent hours picking out things together; she said it would make me feel more at home—and she was right. I love this house. It’s pretty much the only real home I’ve had since I was seven years old.

“Dinner’s done!” Aunt Gabby calls.

At first, Lila is skeptical of seitan tacos, but once we load them up with peppers, onions, cheese, pico de gallo, and sour cream, her eyes say, “yum.”

“I’d probably eat a shoe, prepared like this.”

My aunt grins. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

“You should try her lasagna,” I say, three tacos later. “She makes it every other Sunday because the cheese poundage she uses is a sin somewhere.”

Lila laughs. “I could be down with copious amounts of cheese. Huh. Why does that sound so wrong?”

I make the I-can’t-even face at her while snarfing the last of my black beans and corn.

Smiling, Aunt Gabby starts to clear the table, but I jump to my feet. “No way, it’s my turn.”

Though I don’t say so, it’s always my turn. I have to earn my keep. Lila raises a brow at me; I guess she’s never seen anyone so eager to clean up. I have my reasons.

My aunt relaxes back into her chair with a tired, appreciative smile. “Thanks.”

It’s nice listening to them talk while I work. My aunt seems to like Lila, who’s on her best behavior, though she’s still a little sharp on some notes. She wouldn’t be herself without a little sarcasm. Their laughter is warm, contented, and I enjoy the feeling. It occurs to me that this is the perfect time to talk to my aunt, while there’s a witness.

“Uhm. I have good news and bad news,” I say at the next pause.

Aunt Gabby comes over to the sink, propping a hip beside me. “Bad first.”

This is SOP for us. “I got two Fs, both in geometry. One was a test, the other a quiz.”

Through clenched teeth, she asks, “What’s the good news?”

“I found a tutor, and I think I did a lot better on the quiz I took today. He said he can help me bring my grade up to a B by the end of the term.”

“That is good news. Okay.” Aunt Gabby exhales, pushing the stress out of her body. “I’ll spot you a couple of bad grades, but you better not bring me a D or an F on your report card.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I’ll have to get medieval.” She tries to maintain a stern look but she just can’t do it, and we both burst out laughing. “So, a he-tutor? A not-Ryan he?”

Oh, crap.

“Yeah.” Hopefully I’m not the color of a Christmas ornament right now.

“Hot?” she asks Lila.

Who tilts her head and asks, “Shane?”

I nod.

“Then yeah,” she tells my aunt. “A little grunge, a little emo, but a hundred percent cute.”

“He is not emo.”

“Sorry. Dreamo.” She’s not sorry at all; she’s loving this, and so is my aunt.

Who asks, “Is that a thing?”

“No,” I say at the time Lila answers, “Totally.”

“Dreamo is not a thing.”

Lila has an argument ready. “Sure it is. Dreamy plus emo equals dreamo. Shane.”

Aunt Gabby laughs. The worst part is, if she means it, like, he daydreams a lot and doesn’t talk much, then yeah. Well, whatever. I’m not bickering with them. Muttering, I finish up the dishes, and by this time, it’s almost nine.

“Where do you live, Lila?” my aunt asks. “I can run you home.”

“It’s not that far. I could walk—”

“Forget it,” I say. “Unless you plan on letting her cover you in reflective tape.” The irony of me coming across protective with Shane doesn’t escape me.

“Never. Not in a thousand years.” Lila shakes her head repeatedly.

“Then get in the car.”

While my aunt gets her keys, Lila hugs me unexpectedly. “Thanks. Your aunt is great. I mean, seriously great. You’re so lucky.”

“I know.”

“The way you two are together, it’s seems so easy. You can actually talk to her without worrying she’ll rip your head off or give you an hour lecture.”

“Yeah. I’m lucky all right.”

But I wonder if Lila would still think that if she really knew me. I wonder if she’d still want to be my friend.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When my aunt gets back from dropping Lila off, I remember to ask, “Do you know of any place that’s hiring?”

She cocks her head. “Aren’t you happy at the Curly Q?”

“Not for me. For my friend. Shane.”

“The dreamo guy who’s tutoring you in geometry?” She knows perfectly well who he is.

But I nod anyway. “Yeah, he could use a part-time job after school.”

“I saw a sign that they were looking for somebody over at the P&K.”

“Better than DQ. I’ll let him know. Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” She sinks down onto the couch with a weary sigh.

I head to the kitchen to make tea; it’s our nightly ritual, one we started early on, so we’d always have a few minutes a day to catch up. Prowling through the cupboards, I look at all the interesting and exotic choices. Tonight seems like it calls for some green matcha, so I boil the water and prepare the cups. There’s something calming about the process, and by the time I bring the cups back to the living room, she’s already curled into the pillows.

See how helpful I am? There’s no reason to send me back to state care. I’m an asset. I don’t cause trouble. I make your life easier. I hope she thinks that when I do nice things. I hope she keeps me.

She takes the mug and warms her fingers around it before taking a sip. “So tell me.”

“How do you know there’s anything up?”

“You just confirmed it.”

I have to smile. It would be impossible for me to put anything over on my aunt. She’s ridiculously smart. So I dump the whole mess with Ryan in her lap, hoping it will distract her from Shane. I am not ready to talk about him. Maybe there’s nothing to say, anyway.

“So,” I finish, “do you think I’m overreacting?”

She looks positively astonished. “Ryan? We’re really talking about Ryan.”

“Yep. Apparently he’s got game.”

“I suppose this explains a few things,” she says thoughtfully.

I summon a smile. “I kinda wish he was gay.”

Aunt Gabby ticks the points off her fingers as she considers. “Let see if I have this straight. You’re hurt because he went after some older girl when you kind of liked him. You’re upset that he used and lied to you … because that’s not the way you treat a friend.”

“That’s the gist.”

“Do you still like him?”

“Not as a boyfriend. But … I’ll probably forgive him. Eventually.”

“Then you need to ask yourself why you’re punishing him. Is it ego or are you trying to teach him a lesson?”

“I’m not—” I start, but I totally am.

I’m changing my life, hoping he’ll see how awesome I am and be sorry he went after this Cassie person instead. Which is so immature since I don’t even want to be with him. Sometimes I hate how perceptive my aunt is. She’s also incapable of being mean to anyone, even the hyper-querulous Mr. Addams, who gets in line with four things at the P&K and then argues for half an hour about the price of three of them. Gabby says he’s just lonely.

“You think I should forgive him, don’t you?”

“Is it worth damaging your friendship permanently?” she asks. “Everybody makes mistakes, sweetheart. But if you can live with the possibility that this silence between you might last forever, if that’s what you want, then go ahead.”

“No,” I say softly. “But I also don’t want the whole school thinking we’re back together.”

“Make it clear you’re not.”

“How?” I demand.

“Post it on Facebook.”

Sometimes she just doesn’t get it. “It’s not like the whole school sees my wall. And it would be so lame to write, ‘Dear World, I have forgiven Ryan McKenna, but we are not dating.’”

“I see your point. Then let him squirm a little longer and see what you come up with.”

“Thanks.” I finish up my tea and lean down to hug her.

When I pick up my backpack, I can feel that it’s vibrating. I don’t let on as I carry the bag down the hall. Once I’m in my bedroom, I pull out my cell and check. Four texts from Ryan. Before I read them, sadness suffuses me. Even after I forgive him, things will never be the same between us.

Text one: its been a rly long time since i felt this bad

Text two: i miss u, i hate this

Text three: so do u like him?

Text four: just tell me what to do

That’s the problem; I have no idea. But my aunt’s words echo in my head, and I work my thumbs over the tiny keypad on the phone. Once I type the reply, I hesitate before hitting send.

i dont know

His answer comes so fast that he must’ve been watching for a possible reply. at least ur talking to me again, thats a start

I leave it there because I don’t know what else to say. After plugging in my phone, I head to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Peering closer, I see that my cheeks are positively aflame with new freckles from the lot cleanup. Awesome. I spit and rinse, exhausted by this point.

Unlike some nights, I have no trouble whatsoever sleeping, which means I wake up late. I get ready in a hurry, then gulp a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruit. Aunt Gabby is running around with one shoe, but I don’t have time to help her look for it. I aim a kiss at her, but she darts off, so I only hit the back of her head. Close enough.

“I’m gone,” I call, grabbing my phone and my backpack.

My bike is in the shed around back, so I run for it. At this point I’m not even sure if I match, but hopefully, the outfit’s not horrible. I grabbed the first three things I found in my clean laundry basket, so this could be interesting. I pedal like crazy for the first mile, and then—because I’m tired—I slow down. If luck’s with me, I made up enough time so I won’t catch a tardy.

When I coast into the parking lot, a few people are still milling around, but not many. So the warning bell’s already rung, leaving me about a minute to get to class. No time to stop at my locker, but I have everything I need in my backpack. I go through the hall at a dead run, ignoring the teacher who yells at me. I manage to dive into my chair as the second bell rings.

With a start like this, I figure the day’s going to suck.

Only it doesn’t work out that way. Classes are fine; or at least, I don’t get in any major trouble. I sit quietly, turn in homework when requested, and once, I even make eye contact with Ryan and give him a half nod. He still looks exhausted and sad, and I don’t notice anybody who looks worse, which makes me feel good. So I leave him a Post-it on his locker; I can’t tell him he’s everything, but …

You tell the best stories.

He’s already reading it as I pass by. I don’t know what he expected to see, but he seems happy I reached out. Maybe forgiveness won’t take as long as I thought. I’m smiling when I get to Mackiewicz’s class, where I get my quiz back … and it’s a C+. I can’t wait to show Shane. He’s already looking at me expectantly, so I flash my paper, and a huge grin spreads across his face. The bruises are fading, finally, so he’s even better looking in that quiet way.

Once we’re in the hall, he says, “I knew you could do it.”

“It never would’ve happened without you.” Before I can think better of it, I spring onto my toes to kiss his cheek.

Shane stills. I don’t know what he would’ve said because Dylan Smith shoulders him as he swaggers out of the classroom, just in time to catch the kiss. “You dated Dorkenna for two years, and this is what you dump him for? Even you can do better, Princess.”

“What’s it to you?” I ask. “Unless you want to date me. If that’s the issue, it’s not happening. So move on already.”

He laughs. “In your dreams, fat ass.”

That’s such a lame insult that it doesn’t even bother me. I gesture in response, and Dylan doesn’t know his history well enough to understand what I just invited him to do. But when I turn to Shane, his expression says he’s about to go nuclear. Quickly, I take his hand and pull him away, before he can use that balled-up fist. A quiet thrill ripples through me; he can put up with any abuse these guys offer, but the minute they start on me? He can’t deal.

“No trouble,” I remind him.

“He shouldn’t get away with treating people like that.” Usually, he’s so low-key, all about blending into the background, but right now, Shane is vibrating with outrage.

For me?

“I don’t care what he thinks. He’s an asshole.”

As he cools down, we walk to our lockers together, no need to talk about it; in just a few days, this has become the new normal. When he lets go of me to stow his stuff, I realize we held hands all the way here. I have no memory of our fingers lacing together after I grabbed him to keep him from starting a fight with Dylan, one Shane would be blamed for, but it happened. I process that while we continue to my locker, where I dump my backpack and grab lunch. Today I’ve brought enough leftover tacos to feed the whole table. Including Shane. I suspect he’ll guess what I’m up to, but if everyone else is eating them, he can’t complain. I hope. For once, we’re the first ones to arrive, and I start setting the food out. As the others come in, I wave them over before they get in the cafeteria line.

“Lunch is on me today,” I say.

“Oh my God,” Kimmy squeals. “I love tacos.”

After everyone’s eaten several, Shane murmurs, “Tell your aunt she’s a fantastic cook.”

“You should come over sometime.”

The whole table looks interested, and I think I might’ve just invited everybody for Sunday lunch. “Do you guys have plans?”

“Nope,” Theo says without hesitation.

“I have to ask my mom,” Mel tells me, “but it’s probably cool. And I’ll bring lunch tomorrow, if you guys want. This was fun. I’ll make sure to bring some veggie stuff, Sage.”

“Wow. Thanks.” Lila looks about as surprised as I feel.

These four sophomores are really nice. I mean, I never would’ve gone out of my way to meet them because they’re … average. Normal. And I always feel self-conscious with people who don’t have any baggage … because I’m deceiving them, and they deserve better. But maybe I need to make friends like this to stop feeling that way.

Kimmy and Shanna say they’ll let me know tomorrow. I wonder how Aunt Gabby will feel about our Sunday afternoon being invaded by a bunch of teenagers, then I decide she’ll be happy; she’ll think my wanting to have people over is a milestone. I hope she doesn’t make a huge deal of it … but apart from Ryan—and now Lila—nobody has ever been to our place.

After lunch, on our way back to class, Shane asks, “You want to hang out Friday night?”

“Sure.” I’m not ready to bring him home for a night like I used to spend with Ryan. “We could catch a movie at the Capitol.”

There’s no multiplex here. Instead, we have an old-fashioned theater built in the 1890s. It’s a little run-down and the roof leaks during a hard rain, but the current owners are working on restoration. The only problem is that they can’t afford to shut down, so there’s always random construction going on, something roped off or covered in plastic. But I like the charm of the ornate moldings and the worn but fabulous carpet. The concession stand is covered in gilt, and there’s a heavy crystal chandelier on the domed ceiling. Upstairs, the Capitol even has a balcony, which is usually closed; that doesn’t stop couples from sneaking up there to make out. Since the place is understaffed, they usually get away with it.

“That sounds good,” he says.

I expected he might make an excuse due to money and suggest hanging out on the square instead. That’s the low-rent option for weekend fun in this town. Those who don’t have cars or can’t afford DQ, Coffee Shop, or a show will buy a drink at the convenience store near the courthouse, and then just wander around the square until the cops run them off. Sometimes they bring music and dance on the front steps, but that’s mostly drama dorks trying to start a flash mob of four. People don’t pick on them, though, because all the beautiful people are out at the Barn getting shit-faced.

“There’s only one show on Fridays,” I tell him. “At eight.”

“Then I’ll be at your house at seven thirty.”

“Do you need the address?”

“That’d be good.” I scrawl it on a piece of paper, which he sticks in the zip pocket on his backpack. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Oh,” I add, remembering. “You might want to swing by the P&K after school. My aunt said they’re looking for help.”

Shane’s relief is a tangible force, warming the air between us. “I definitely will.”

When he slides a hand beneath my hair—unstraightened and I didn’t even have time for a ponytail—I think he’s going for a kiss, right in the hallway. But he just cups his palm around my nape, fingers strumming slowly like I’m a tune he’s trying to learn. Chills start on my neck, roll down my shoulders to my arms, until I have goose bumps. I’m wearing a shrug or he’d see them. Reflexively, I tug at the sleeves, making sure they’re all the way down.

“Class,” I mumble, unable to string two words together.

Shane lets go, and I manage to get to chem without stumbling over my own feet. Today, I actually beat Ryan, so I get our supplies from the back table. The beakers and things are already at our lab station, so I start setting up as best I can. The teacher watches me take the initiative, then scribbles a note in the grade book. Ryan barely reaches his stool before the final bell, looking more rumpled than usual. Since his head is one enormous cowlick, that’s saying something.

I listen while we get the instructions for our experiment, then I turn to Ryan. “You ready?”

“I got your note. About my stories.”

“Yeah.” It’s true; he can make a trip to the QwikMart sound like an epic adventure.

“I guess … you have plans tomorrow night?” He says it with such awful resignation, like he can’t imagine a worse fate than not hanging with me.

“I do. But…” The invite slips out in response to his puppy eyes. “You can come to lunch on Sunday if you want.”

“I’m there.”

“I invited a bunch of people, apparently. We’re girl heavy, so—”

“Tell me you didn’t just invite me for my Y chromosome.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry. Ryan doesn’t have a temper; at least, not that I’ve ever seen. Until now. His brown eyes practically throw sparks behind the black frames of his glasses.