“Nope. Don’t tell me you bought into the rumor mill.” I cock a brow at them.

“I knew it was crap,” Tara says.

“So … we were wondering,” Kenny adds.

“Yes?” Lila looks tremendously amused.

“Can we sit with you, every other lunch period?” Tara asks in a rush.

“Not every day?” I wonder aloud.

Kenny grins. “Nah. Even if he’s been a grumpy ass lately, we’re not ditching Ryan. We thought you guys could share custody.”

“This is so adorable, I could barf.” Lila is choking on her fries.

“It’s cool with me if Mel, Kimmy, Theo, and Shanna don’t mind.” I cast an inquiring look at the sophomores who have first claim on the table.

“Not a problem,” Mel decides.

Lila sighs. “This is starting to feel like a babysitting job.”

“You can walk away anytime. My broken heart will mend.” I grin at her, seeing the ridiculous in our situation.

She laughs.

“It’s not that I mind people thinking we’re together,” I say later, walking with Lila back to our lockers. “On principle. But you might like someone, and if they think you’re taken…”

That’s exactly what Ryan did to me.

“They won’t ask me out,” she finishes. “There is someone, but he’s emotionally unavailable at the moment. So, not a big deal.”

“This crap is so complicated,” I mumble.

She grins. “Should I put my arm around you to fuel the rumors?”

“Only if you want them never to die.”

In a school this size, she and I will be lesbians forever to some people, even now, just from a mean joke Dylan Smith made to some football buddies. Man, what is wrong with people? If Lila and I were really struggling, the looks, snickers, and whispered jokes would be unbearable. High school really is hell. I think of Jon Summers and I want to get back at the ones who drove him to it. I know how. It’s hard not to imagine all the ways I could make them sorry.

But I’m not like that anymore. I don’t do bad things.

They can hurt me only if I let them, right? And I’m used to people laughing at me. If I didn’t have a certain level of fortitude, I’d have given up on the Post-its long ago.

I head to chem, leaving an encouraging note on a locker along the way. Ryan’s already there with the day’s project ready to go. He looks tired, eyes red behind his glasses, like he’s not sleeping well. Because I’m mad at him, I don’t want to feel a pang of remorse. If I forgive him now, I can stop flailing around looking for a new life. But looking at him hurts. I’m not ready to spend Friday nights watching movies, pretending nothing’s changed. When everything has.

“You look beautiful,” he says, as I sit down.

I push out a pained breath. “Thanks. Can we focus on the work, please?”

“I miss you.” He ignores my request, like I don’t know what I need. It’s only been since Friday, one weekend, two school days. Only in his mind is this a long time.

“Ryan, don’t make me ask for a new partner.” I totally will; it’s not a bluff.

“Right. Sorry.” His face shuts down, and this time, I participate fully in the experiment.

I can’t sit and watch because that’s not okay anymore; since I’m not giving him the support I used to, I can’t coast on his work. Probably, I shouldn’t have done that before. I’ve let Ryan handle too many things for me in the past few years. I told myself it was fine because we were like two sides of a coin or something, but it was really just me letting go of the reins.

After school, I hit Shane’s two last classes, and then I have a full list of his assignments, plus his address. Are you really gonna just show up at his house? It’s so unlike me. I don’t know what I’ll say, how I’ll explain it so I don’t come off like a total headcase, but I don’t even care. Hopefully he’ll be glad to see me, or happy not to fall behind on his homework. He said he couldn’t afford more trouble and bad grades qualify for most people, though it’s not the kind that gets you sent to juvie.

Lila’s not at her locker when I get to mine after making my rounds. She probably got a ride home in the gray van today. Just as well. I’d hate to explain why I look like I’m about to vomit all over my shoes. Shouldering my backpack, I head out to the bike rack, where mine is the last one still chained up. Feeling like a spy, I ride over to the library to check the directions. I have his address, and I know it’s out in the country, but I’m not sure how far.

Five minutes later, Google gives me an answer.

Holy crap. Five miles. Do I want to see him that bad?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Yeah, I totally do. I’m worried he’s sick. I’m concerned he’ll fall behind in his classes and his grades will suffer. I’m … I’m … insane. Maybe I’ve caught some bizarre virus that causes unpredictable and uncharacteristic behavior. I don’t print out the map because clearly that’s too far when everything else I’ve done today is totally normal.

I just make a mental note of the route and jog to my bike. Before getting on, I text a message to Aunt Gabby, telling her I’m studying at a friend’s this afternoon. She’ll assume I mean Ryan, and I squelch a frisson of guilt over that. I’ll explain things to her soon. I will. Just as soon as I figure out how much to tell her. And how.

I swing by the Coffee Shop for snacks and drinks, then stow them in my backpack. Since I don’t want to arrive dripping sweat, I ride at a leisurely pace, so it takes me thirty-seven minutes to get to his place. And at first, I think the school must’ve gotten it wrong, but I recognized Shane’s handwriting on the form. So no. This is it. Nerves assail me as I walk my bike down the rutted drive, overgrown with curly dock, chickweed, and quack grass. I can’t even see a house from here, but I’m committed. At the end of the lane, there’s a decrepit trailer; the thing looks so run-down that I imagine it’s cold in winter, leaks during a hard rain, and must be an oven during the summer. It was once cream with brown trim, but that’s hanging off in rusty strips and the weather has discolored the lighter metal. The underpinning is loose, flapping in the breeze, and I’m nervous as I start forward.

Cinder blocks have been stacked up in lieu of steps long since rotted away. I lean my bike against a pile of tires out front, climb up, and knock. My heart thunders in my ears. I must be crazy for showing up uninvited. Now that I’ve seen where Shane lives, though, I’m more worried, not less. I’m scared he might be mad at me for barging in like this, but I have to make sure he’s okay, echo of a time when I desperately wished somebody would’ve checked up on me.

Mustering all my courage, I tap lightly on the door. Immediately, I hear movement inside and I brace for one of his parents to yell at me. Instead, Shane cracks the door, then freezes, staring at me in utter astonishment. The first thing I notice is that he has a second bruise, a newer one, to match the black eye Dylan gave him a few days back. And he didn’t get it at school.

“What’re you doing here?” he demands.

Yeah, he’s not happy. I decide only absolute honesty will serve. “I was worried about you. And I brought your homework.”

“Thanks.” His anger blurs into confusion. Shane looks like he can’t decide what he wants to ask next, a series of questions flickering on his face, but eventually he steps back. “You may as well come in, now that you’re here.”

Inside, it’s cleaner than I expected. The kitchen has old linoleum and there’s scratched paneling all over the place. Everything is worn, old-fashioned, and threadbare, but somebody looks after this place. I’d bet money that person is Shane. A small living room adjoins the kitchen. I imagine there’s a bath down the hall, which ends in two small bedrooms.

“Your parents won’t mind?” I ask, stepping in.

“My mom’s gone. And my dad isn’t here.”