I have no idea what he gets. No time to think about it. I’m already late so I grab a protein bar to eat in my first class and throw together some kind of a lunch. I don’t bring enough for everyone or even Shane. The way I feel today, I may go sit behind the school with the burners and inhale enough secondhand smoke to get a buzz on. My ride to school seems longer than usual, and it’s a cold, gray day. Most of the crimson and gold leaves seem to have fallen, leaving skeletal limbs on the dark boughs of the trees. I have no idea how all the color could’ve drained away overnight, but I suspect the answer has to do with Shane. Deep down, I realize I’m being dramatic; there are still trees dressed in gorgeous autumnal hues. I’m just choosing to focus on the bleak, barren ones instead.

It’s that kind of day.

Hurriedly I chain my bike up outside and run to my locker, where I should run into Shane. Only he’s not there. I guess he came and went early to avoid the awkward moment. I should be grateful but my backpack still feels like it weighs forty extra pounds. Lila nudges me as I go by.

“What’s the matter? You look like shit.” Today, she’s wearing a short black skirt, white-and-black-striped tights, black combat boots, and a corset sweater thing in scarlet. She’s way too stylish and dramatic for this school. I wonder how long her hair will be red.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

Her expression softens. “See you at lunch.”

“Yep.”

Somehow Shane manages to dodge me the rest of the day. I never see him at our locker, though his stuff comes and goes, which makes me feel marginally better. Each time I open it, I expect to find all of his things gone, which is so stupid. What does it matter if he takes his junk for good? It’s a locker, not our family home. I sleepwalk through my classes.

Now he’s sitting one row over in math, but he hasn’t looked at me. I might as well not be in the room. Shane’s back to silent, invisible mode, not even making eye contact. But I do get a happy surprise when I take a surprise math quiz and I know a good portion of the answers.

Today I avoid the cafeteria. I pick a random locker and leave a generic message on it. This is the first time I’ve phoned it in like this. After grabbing my lunch bag, I head out back. The halls are grungier back toward the shop departments, and the alarm doesn’t sound when I slip outside. A few guys eye me but nobody says anything. This isn’t a group known for talking. Instead they silently pass around a hand-rolled MJ while a kid in a beanie lazily stands watch. I guess somebody would eat the thing if teachers ever came back here.

I park it nearby and pretend to eat my lunch. It’s cold as hell and I’m not hungry. I’m counting heartbeats like I did in therapy, as it’s supposed to help me stay calm. Right now I want nothing more than to cry or scream, but that would alarm my new not-friends. I’m silent, like they are. Now and then, one of them tells an unfunny joke, and the rest laugh. I wait out the break while my hands and feet go numb. This day is endless.

Ryan looks better in chemistry, however, like he got a good night’s sleep and perversely, this upsets me. Since he claims to be in love with me, our situation should bother him for more than a week. Asshole, I think. But he doesn’t notice. He smiles at me.

“Hey,” he says, like nothing’s changed.

Everything has.

But I get to work. There are chemicals to mix in careful ratio, and Mr. Oscar seems delighted when I get the liquid to smoke and change colors, as intended. I’m supposed to learn something about bases and alkalis, I think, but it’s beyond me. I can’t believe I have to work today.

“Do you want to—” Ryan starts, but I’m already gone.

Shane’s nowhere to be found, and that hurts because I’ve gotten used to him showing up at most of my classes. I started counting on him … and I feel stupid because I should know better. I can’t even be mad at him because this is my fault. He told me before how much he hated it when I fix things for him, like he can’t do it himself, but I went ahead and did it again, so I can only blame myself that he’s bailed. Miserable, I put my assignments in my backpack and then head for the bike rack. I have a four-hour shift waiting for me, then homework.

Shane’s working at the P&K today, so I could swing by there if I wanted to stalk him, but I’ve already been there, done that. Instead I head to the Curly Q way early and start sweeping up the hair.

Mildred glares at me. “You know I’m not paying you extra.”

“It’s fine. “

She seems to sense it’s been a terrible day because she mutters, “Well, maybe this once. Clock in for three p.m. I can afford an hour since you’re here anyway.”

Eight dollars may not seem like a big deal, but my boss is pretty cheap. I must look worse than I imagined. Grace has a customer so she can’t do more than wave for the first hour; in the meantime, I tidy up the salon and examine the appointment book to get an idea of what the night will be like. Slow, it seems. There are two cuts on the schedule, one highlight, and that’s all. If there are no walk-ins, I’ll end up playing practice doll before the shift’s over.

The evening goes according to my predictions. Mildred leaves around six … and by seven, Grace has me in the chair. This is why I have twenty tiny braids in my hair, the other half loose, when the bell jingles. I glance up because it’s my job to greet customers … only this time, I freeze. Because it’s Shane.

I have a thousand questions. Isn’t he supposed to be at work now?

“I’m on my lunch break.” He’s a mind reader or something.

“Do you want a haircut?” That should go on record as the stupidest thing anyone’s ever said.

Of course he doesn’t. At least, I hope not. I love his shaggy curls. My fingers itch to touch them, but I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed when a couple is fighting. Are we fighting? Are we a couple? Nobody ever told me the rules; it’s still kind of undefined. I’ve seen happy pairs holding hands in the halls at school, sneaking long, greedy kisses when they think the teachers aren’t watching, and they make it look so easy.

He shakes his head. “But I know I can’t be here if I’m not paying.”

“Mildred would be pissed,” Grace agrees.

I stare up at the security camera blinking red above the front door. The old lady had it installed after other businesses in the area got burglarized, and now she uses it to spy on her employees. Which means she’ll definitely say something if I stand here talking to Shane, and he purchases no products or services.

“So I was hoping for a shampoo.”

“Seriously?” That’s the only service I’m allowed by law to provide, apart from fetching water and magazines.

Grace is wearing the biggest, dumbest grin ever. “Don’t mind me. I’m gonna put in my earbuds.”

“How much do I charge?” There’s no fee schedule for just a shampoo. Usually it comes with a trim or a blow out.

“Use the coupon for first-time clients. They’re in the top right drawer.”

This flyer is expired, plus it’s good for shampoo with haircut, but I don’t protest. I have no idea how to act right now.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Come on back,” I manage to say.

Grace and I know this is mostly to get out of sight of the cameras, so Mildred can’t bitch about me talking to my boyfriend while I’m on the clock. Apparently Shane doesn’t. To my surprise, he sits in the faux-leather reclining chair, like he really expects me to wash his hair. Does it make me weird that I want to?

Covering my nerves, I start the water, testing it on myself before I pull out the sprayer. “Let me know if it’s too hot.”

“It’s fine.”

His blue, blue eyes are closed, lashes smudgy fans against the pallor of his skin. He hasn’t shaved, so I can see the dark bristles on his jaw, and the delicate skin beneath his eyes seems bruised, as if he didn’t sleep last night, either. Suddenly my chest hurts … in a good way.