“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I stood up abruptly. “You know, Logan, I’m just asking for a little help,” I said. “But if you can’t do that, forget I ever said anything.”
? ? ?
I was still simmering when Jennica met me at my locker after school. “We still on for studying today?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
She cleared her throat. “I don’t know. I heard about Kelsi. I thought maybe you had to go talk to her or something. Is that why Mr. Miller called you in this morning?”
I averted my eyes.
“How come you couldn’t tell me that when I asked you?” she said. There was accusation in her voice.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I didn’t feel like it was my business to talk about it.”
“But I’m your best friend.” She paused. “Is it because you think I wouldn’t understand?”
“No,” I said too quickly. “Of course not.”
“You know, Lacey, having someone die isn’t the only way to lose a parent.”
I just looked at her. Not again, said the voice in my head.
“It was hard for me when my parents got divorced,” she went on. “But you act like it’s no big deal, just because my dad is still alive.”
I bit my tongue. Hard. I didn’t want to get into this with her. I knew it bothered Jennica that I didn’t ask her about her parents’ divorce very often. And it wasn’t that I didn’t care. It was just that I couldn’t compare a divorce to a death. She could tell her dad she loved him any time she decided to. My chances, on the other hand, were all gone. Forever.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally.
Jennica sighed. “I know.”
I was just about to say something else when I saw Sam approaching. I began shoving books from my locker into my bag. Jennica furrowed her brow. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I said, just as Sam walked up. Jennica looked at him, then at me, and stepped back.
“Hey,” he said. He smiled at me. “So, are you two still studying this afternoon?”
I shrugged.
“Can I still study with you?” Sam tried again.
I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to care. But I did. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t even know what I said to make you upset,” Sam said. He was standing so close that I could feel his breath on my hair. It gave me goose bumps. “Look, can I talk to you for a minute? There’s something I really need to tell you.”
I looked away. “Maybe later,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Jennica and I are in a rush now. We’ve got to catch a ride with my brother and his girlfriend before they leave without us.”
I slammed my locker door shut, grabbed Jennica’s arm, and walked away before Sam could say anything else.
? ? ?
Jennica waited to bring Sam up until we were sitting at my kitchen table forty-five minutes later with two Diet Cokes, a bag of microwave popcorn, some Twizzlers Jennica had brought, and our trig books open in front of us.
“So, are you going to explain what that was all about?” she asked.
I fiddled with the edge of the popcorn bag and then popped a few pieces in my mouth. “It’s nothing.”
Jennica chomped on a piece of licorice. “Try again.”
I sighed. “Fine. He drove me home yesterday, and I actually thought for, like, a minute that maybe he liked me. Then he said he’d heard about my dad and that he knew how I felt.” I made a face.
“Okay,” Jennica said, waiting for me to go on. “And?”
I shrugged. “That’s it.”
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “The hot new guy, who every girl at school—including Summer Andrews—is into, offers you a ride, has clearly been asking around about you, and says something thoughtful. And this is a problem why?”
“Jennica, there’s a difference between liking someone and feeling sorry for them,” I said. “Don’t you understand that? The last thing I need is some guy’s pity.”
“Okay,” Jennica said slowly. “Only, what if he doesn’t pity you? What if he’s just trying to be nice? Because he likes you?”
“Well, I don’t need someone telling me he knows how I feel,” I grumbled. “You know how much I hate that.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you don’t give people a chance,” Jennica said.
I resisted the urge to snap at her that the only person she gave a chance to anymore was her boyfriend. I didn’t want to sound jealous. “Jennica,” I began. I paused, unsure of what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her that I missed her, that I missed this, that I missed us. I wanted to tell her that there was a huge gulf between us, and I didn’t know how to cross it anymore. But before I had a chance to say anything, the doorbell rang.