“Explain to me why this was worth a tardy.”
So he knows, then. It sounds stupid when I try to articulate it; my reasons come out in a whispered jumble, about making somebody’s day better when things are total crap. I talk about silver linings and being the queen of bright and shiny things. He’s listening, but I sound crazy. I know I do. It’s pointless, possibly even pretentious, to think I could make a difference. I end my rambling recitation by saying as much.
To my surprise, he shakes his head. “No way. I’m sure there are people who are glad that you pay attention to them, who need to know someone gives a shit.”
“But not you?” I ask softly.
“This is a cakewalk compared to what I’m used to dealing with on a daily basis.” The moment the words are out, he looks like he wishes he hadn’t spoken them, but it’s too late.
I’m left wondering what’s so bad at home that being beaten up is a welcome change. His tropical eyes dare me to ask, dare me to pry into his business, but I’m not brave enough. If he wanted me to know more, he’d tell me, right? Otherwise it’s just me being nosy.
“My aunt Gabby is pretty great,” I say. “But … it was bad before.”
Shane makes a scoffing noise. “What do you know about ‘bad’?”
He sees the image I’ve cultivated for the last three years. I went to therapy; I learned how to be good, how not to be angry. But every day, there’s an underground river inside me, and I’m trying not to drown in it, every second of the day. This smile hides so much. It hides everything.
Part of me wants to tell him the truth. But I don’t. Instead I duck my head, dodging his slow realization that my life hasn’t been sunshine and rainbows. I rarely let anyone see Shadow Sage; I’ve done my best to bury her. Now she’s just a thin hand reaching up from a fresh grave.
“Hey.” He touches my forearm briefly, and in those scant seconds, I register the heat of his fingertips, the calluses on his skin. “I didn’t mean to be a dick. I don’t hold the trademark on crappy deals.”
He’s looking at me that way again, and the pretext of dispassion falls away. We’re twin counterweights on a scale, hanging in a moment of perfect balance. I hardly dare to breathe for fear the air will shift, and the hunger I’m seeing in him will disappear. Though he’s pretending otherwise, he wants somebody to notice him. I recognize it so fast because I’ve been there. Hey, world, please acknowledge my existence. Please care. On my end, nobody has ever seen me before. Not like this.
Until this moment, I didn’t realize I was walking around all this time with a Shane-shaped hole inside of me.
CHAPTER FOUR
I love weekends.
Most teenagers probably feel the same way, but I adore them. Friday night belongs to Ryan. Since there’s so little to do in this town, he comes over with a DVD and I make popcorn on the stove. Aunt Gabby doesn’t own a microwave oven; she says they’re dangerous and can give you cancer. I don’t agree with all of her opinions, but I’m so grateful to be here that I don’t argue with her. This is heaven, compared to where I’ve been, and I’ll do anything to stay, anything to keep her happy.
She’s four years younger than my dad would be, if he were alive, which makes her thirty-seven. Gabby was married once, but it didn’t stick, and she’s been single for five years. So that means she’s bustling around the bungalow, trying on various accessories. I can’t remember when her last date was, so she’s probably nervous.
“How does this look?” she asks from her bedroom doorway.
Outfit number four is a simple black dress with wedge heels and silver accents. “Good.”
She makes a face. “You said that about everything I’ve had on.”