“Go on, I’m intrigued.” He waves a hand adorned with chipped black nail polish and a chunky silver ring, as if to say “Continue.”
“Who are you?” I ask, my tone considerably kinder than before. “I mean, what’s your name?” I give him a wide smile, but from the look in his eyes, it’s more alarming than alluring, so I pull it back a few notches. What the hell—I scrunch up my hair at the roots, throw in a tip of my head so my hair tumbles in front of my eyes, bite my lip. This has got to work—guys are so simple.
“You’re kidding me, right?” he says.
“What?” I ask innocently, but I can feel myself blushing.
“I’ll tell you my name, but not because of your little bimbo act. Maybe Quarterback Jack would fall for that sort of stuff, but not me.”
My mouth drops open.
“Oh, don’t be too offended. You’re cute and whatever. I just like a girl with a bit more going on up here.” He taps his temple.
“I’m plenty smart, jerkwad. I’ve got the third-highest GPA at my high school. And FYI, I would never be interested in a guy like—”
“Third-highest, huh? And I bet Blanca is first, right?”
“It’s Bianca. And— Ugh! Why am I arguing with you? I don’t even know you!”
He smiles, placing a hand on his chest. “It’s Bishop. Nice to meet you.”
“Bishop,” I repeat.
“That’s what I said.” He leans back against the side of the car.
“Okay.” I cross my arms over my chest. “So what’s your last name?”
“Haven’t got a last name,” he says.
“Who are you, Pink? Everyone has one.”
“Not me.”
I shield my face with my hand so he doesn’t see the tears of frustration welling in my eyes.
“Come on, Ind.” Paige tugs on my arm. “This is stupid. He’s not going to tell us anything.”
I give him my back, because great, I’m crying.
“Oh, come on, don’t do that,” he says.
“Do what?” Super. My stupid voice just cracked.
He sighs. “All right, then. I’ll tell you everything.”
I glance over to see the smirk on his face that’ll confirm he’s lying, but for once he’s stone-faced.
Maybe he isn’t such a jerk after all.
“Just don’t do that anymore,” he says, gesturing to my tear-tracked face. “It’s terribly unattractive, and I do hate to be seen with unattractive girls. Bad for the reputation, you know?”
My anger surges back full force. “Just tell me what you know, already.”
“Seriously, can you clean that up?” He circles a finger at my face.
“God, you’re a—”
“Jerk? I know. So listen, you have to take me somewhere private if I’m going to tell you anything.”
“Absolutely not.” Sorry, buddy, but I’ve seen that episode of Oprah. “Never let them take you to a second location” is, like, Rule #1 of foiling predators.
“Why not?” he says. “Too busy driving around looking for me?”
I huff. “Actually, we were just about to go to a party, thank you very much.”
“Awesome, except a party isn’t exactly private. Unless it’s a party for two.” He winks at me.
Ew.
I cross my arms. “As much as I love that mental image, can you please quit playing games and tell me what you know already?”
“Sure,” he says. “As soon as we go someplace private.”
“You’ve got to know that I'm smarter than that.”
He starts to walk away, and I panic. If he leaves now, I may never see him again. And then all hope of finding the Bible will be lost. It’d ruin Mom. Completely destroy her.
“Wait!” I call out.
He spins.
I heave a sigh. Sweet Jesus, I can’t believe I'm doing this. “Fine. I’ll go with you. But we have to stop somewhere first.”
For a few seconds, both Paige and Bishop stare at me like I’ve just sprouted a second head. But before I have time to think about the dangerous situation I’ve just gotten myself into, Bishop yells, “Shotgun!” and skids across the hood of the car to land in front of the passenger-side door.
Sorry, Oprah.
10
Bishop is already adjusting the passenger seat to accommodate his long legs before I can even get into the car.
“No way.” I settle into the driver’s seat. “Paige rides up front.”
“She doesn’t care. Look, she’s already in the back.” He swivels in the seat to face Paige. “You don’t care, right?”
Paige snaps the buckle of her seat belt. “It’s fine.”
I purse my lips. But actually, it’s probably better not to have my back turned to him. And I have to say, he looks much less intimidating with his legs all smushed up like he’s riding in a clown car.
“So where’s this party at?” He rubs his hands together.
I start the car. “You’ll see when we get there.”
“Oh, like a surprise. How fun.”