Trips to Iggy’s made my before list too, and the next day when Mr. Bonura questioned me about making up a calc test, I told him I needed to go to the nurse. Instead, I got Ryan out of his class and we went for midmorning, midweek pie. He didn’t hesitate or deny me anything now, but asked often, “Are you happy, baby? Are you feeling okay?” I remembered Chris’s comments about Ryan never smiling, how he’d never seen him like this, and I was scared to turn these questions around and ask them back. Ryan wasn’t happy; he wasn’t okay.
I was doing the best I could to change this, doing the best I could to prove that I cared for and appreciated him more than I could express. And needed him. There was a constant tugging in the back of my mind, saying that if I just tried harder, I could fall in love with him. I could just never quite reach it—and the night of our beach trip I spent half the hours until morning trying to convince myself I could. The other half I spent trying to sleep and trying to ignore the Gyver-shaped hole in my life.
I suggested we didn’t need to go to homeroom the next morning—it was Thursday, exactly one week since the tarot cards spelled out my future in five grim letters. Instead we went for coffee at Bean Haven, a chic bakery in Cross Pointe I’d always wanted to try. I ordered the largest size and drained the pink cardboard cup and—despite Mom’s warnings of its chemical poisons—it didn’t make me keel over. It did give me enough energy to make it to all of my afternoon classes and paste a placid smile on my face while I doodled in my notebook and ignored my classmates and whatever the teachers wrote on the board.
Chapter 41
“Mi, wait up.”
I ignored Gyver and kept walking. I didn’t want to be in the building. I didn’t want to think about school. I didn’t want to discuss what he’d walked in on Monday night either.
He caught up with me outside the school’s double doors, wrapping his fingers gently around my arm and pulling me to a stop. “Mi, I was calling you all down the hall. Didn’t you hear me?”
I shook my head.
“Don’t you need a ride home? I thought The Jock—sorry, Ryan—drove you, and it doesn’t look like you want to wait around for soccer practice to end.”
“Thanks.” I headed down the stairs to his Jeep.
“Wait a minute. You okay? I heard you had a big academic meeting.”
“Not so big.” I tapped my foot, anxious to keep walking. Standing still took effort.
“Mr. Bonura asked if I’d tutor you. Why didn’t you tell me you needed help?”
“I don’t. It’s not a big deal.” I was in danger of failing history and calculus. My English and science grades weren’t much better. “Can we go?”
The progress report from Principal Baker was wrinkling in the bottom of my bag. I’d already forged Mom’s name and would turn it in on Monday.
Gyver froze, oblivious to the roadblock he created at the stop of the stairs.
“Home? Us? Now?” I prompted.
He followed me down the steps, then tugged me over to the wall. “What do you mean it’s not a big deal? Last year you obsessed over hundredths of GPA points. Don’t tell me you’re giving up and handing me the valedictorianship. Did something happen?”
I shrugged. “It’s just not a big deal. Not so important anymore.”
“Why not?” His eyes narrowed. My fingers were drumming restlessly against my thighs until he trapped them in his cool hands. “What happened? Tell me.”
It seemed pointless to resist; he wasn’t going to give up. “I went to see a psychic.”
“You what?” His voice was loud and angry; people turned, then turned away when there wasn’t anything to see. He lowered it to a growl. “Let me guess, she gave you a dire prediction and now you think you’re not going to get better.”
I pulled my hands free and met his eyes. “At least now I know.”
“You believed her? So what? You’re giving up and waiting to die?” He stepped closer, shaking his head in anger and disbelief.
“I’m going to enjoy however long I have. Do what I want to do, make sure I don’t miss out on anything. What choice do I have?” My voice quivered; the rest of me shook. I’d fought so hard to make peace with this idea, leaving all second-guessing in the parking lot at the lake.
“You fight! You stay healthy … you try! Are you seriously giving this crazy person more credit than your doctors?” He put his hands on my shoulders and shook me lightly.
“There’s no point.” He wouldn’t understand.
“Mi—how many times do I have to tell you, you create your own luck. Look at me. You’re not going to self-destruct. I’m not going to let you. You’re not going to die.”
I ducked my head and he pulled me toward him, capturing me in an iron hug. “I won’t let you,” he repeated.
“Maybe I deserve this.” I hadn’t meant to say it; the words escaped through the crack he’d chiseled in my composure.
“No! Don’t ever say that. Ever.” Gyver rocked me in his embrace.
I was still shaking, only now it was with fear, not frenzied energy. It’d been easier to just know, even if it was bad news; at least I wasn’t wondering. I needed to escape from him and the conclusions he wanted me to question.
“Leave me alone, Gyver. Just let me—”
“Isn’t this adorable. And in-ter-est-ting!” The voice was loud, high, and syrupy-sweet. “Mia, are you double-dipping? I thought Ryan’d be enough.”