“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.”
“What?” I stepped out of Gyver’s hug. His intimidating stare was back, aimed at Hillary.
But Hil wasn’t intimidated. She was furious. Probably, she’d expected me to track her down and grovel by now, but I hadn’t. I wouldn’t. There was no point.
She pointed a dark-purple nail at us, waving it between Gyver and me in a sideways tsk-tsk. “I always thought you guys were hooking up, but I didn’t expect you to look so cozy right outside the gym where Ryan’s practicing.”
She wasn’t alone—I hadn’t noticed at first, but Lauren, Emily, Monica, and most of the squad were behind her.
“I wasn’t … We weren’t … We’re just friends,” I stammered.
“You don’t need to justify yourself,” Gyver said. “Especially not to the queen bitch.”
“Of course not,” Hil simpered. “Because we all know what we saw. Soon Ryan’ll know too. But that’s okay, right?”
The two people who used to be my best friends—attacking each other, attacking me. I was used to playing mediator between them, but I couldn’t handle that today, and what was the point anymore? The panic from my conversation with Gyver spilled over. “We’re friends. Neighbors. Gyver doesn’t think of me that way … He couldn’t.”
“Mi—” Gyver warned.
“Couldn’t? Why couldn’t he? Ohhh. Wow. I get it now.” Hil’s face lit up like she’d just solved a complex choreography dilemma. It made me nervous. “God, it finally makes sense why you two never got together.” She laughed and adopted a faux whisper. “Gyver likes guys.”
“What?” I squeaked. I hadn’t stopped shaking; Gyver’s “I won’t let you” rolled through my mind like a threat.
“Not that I’m judging,” she continued. “I think that’s great, Gyver. I should’ve known. All Mia’s unrequited, angsty pining. And her insistence that you were ‘just friends.’ But you’re gay! That is what you were saying, right, Mia?”
“I …” The cheerleaders were watching expectantly; Hillary standing in the front with hands propped on her hips. Escape! Every part of my mind demanded it. Instead I stared her down. “First, you’re wrong. Second, stalker much? You’ve made it clear we’re not friends anymore, so why do you even care?”
She blinked, and for a moment her glare slipped to a wince.
I slid my gaze from her to Gyver, offering my next words to both of them. “My life is none of your business. Leave me alone.”
And then I walked away.