“I did text you.” I struggle to keep my tone even. I want to take her arm and lead her away from the growing crowd, but it’ll only make things worse if she refuses to budge. Jackson still has my backpack slung over his shoulder. I cross to him and tug at it, but he doesn’t let go. With a sigh, I give up that fight, fish out my phone, and turn it to show Carly the text. As I do, I realize I never hit Send. “Oh no. I never sent it!” I show her the message, still there on the phone. “Carly, it was an accident. I meant to send it. I got distracted. You’re right to be angry. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t need you to tell me I have a right to be angry. And I know all about your distraction,” she says, completely ignoring my apology. If anything, she seems even more pissed than she was a minute ago. “I can’t believe you! You’re dropping all your friends for a guy?”
Could she have shouted that any louder? My cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger. “I’m not dropping anyone.” I clench my fists at my sides, frustrated beyond belief.
“Hey, Carly,” Jackson says, stepping in front of me. Carly and I were nose to nose, so him putting himself between us means we both have to take a step back. I want to hit him for pushing himself where he has no business being. I want to hug him for stepping in before I say something I will surely regret.
I can’t see Jackson’s face because he has his back to me and his front to Carly, but when he says her name again, I can hear that he’s smiling. And she smiles back, just a little, like she doesn’t want to but can’t help herself. I know the feeling. Jackson’s smile isn’t something that can be easily ignored.
“Listen,” he says, angling his body so that his back is to the watching crowd. He drops his voice and continues, “We have an assembly this afternoon, right?”
Carly nods. “Yeah . . .”
“I didn’t get much lunch,” Jackson says, and I have to restrain the urge to punch him in the shoulder. He had more than I did, of my lunch. “And Luka and I”—I can see his head turn a little to the left, looking toward Luka for confirmation—“we were thinking of ditching the assembly and heading out for pizza. Come along.” An invitation that sounds more like an order. Typical Jackson.
Something twinges inside me at his words. Jealousy? I tamp it down. I’m not sure what Jackson’s game is, but I know he’s playing one. My guess is that he wants to avoid having either of us embroiled in a public meltdown. Fine with me. I’m not exactly into having an audience.
It’s just like him to take over and run the show, and it’s actually darkly amusing when I think of how he’s the one telling me I can’t always control everything.
Looks like Jackson’s plan is a success, because from the corner of my eye, I see the track guys wander off. No fight means there’s nothing here to see.
I step back and catch a glimpse of Carly’s face. She’s trying to act cool about this invitation, one eyebrow raised as she looks back and forth between Jackson and Luka.
“Ditch the assembly? What if we get caught?” She doesn’t actually sound too worried about that, and I know she isn’t. Getting caught ditching assembly isn’t anywhere near as bad as getting caught drunk on school property and puking practically in the principal’s lap.
Hating the idea of being a public spectacle, and glad that Carly’s no longer bent on having a knock-down-drag-out right here in front of everyone, I edge to the side, my eye on my backpack that’s still slung over Jackson’s shoulder. Grab my bag. Make my escape. Call Carly later and work things out with a little privacy. Sounds like a plan to me. From this angle, I watch as Jackson turns the full wattage of his smile on Carly. Her eyes widen.
“We better leave before the bell goes,” Luka says, and steps forward to throw a casual arm across Carly’s shoulders. She tips her head and looks up at him. Their eyes meet and hold and for a second I see a flash of . . . something . . . Interest? In Luka, not Jackson? In both of them? Yet more proof of how painfully far apart Carly and I have drifted. I don’t even know which guy she wants.
As I watch the two of them, something tugs at my thoughts, a memory of Carly in my kitchen the day she brought coffees, the day after I first got pulled. We were talking about Luka and she had this expression that was sort of sad. Then she told me to go for it.
When we were little, long before my mom died, Carly gave me her dolls, her cookies, her favorite shirt. It’s just her way. And I’ve done the same for her. Looking at her now, I wonder if she’s putting what she thinks I want ahead of what she wants. That would be just like Carly, to hand the boy she likes to me on a platter just because she thinks it’ll fix what’s broken inside me. But a boy is different from a doll. For one thing, there’s his opinion on the matter to take into consideration.
If Carly likes Luka but she’s willing to walk away from him for me, it makes me feel even worse about how much we’ve been fighting lately.