“Trying to show him what he’s missing? Good plan.” She cuts her eyes toward Ryan, who is standing with one hand on his locker. He can’t seem to look away.
This time last year, I would’ve given a kidney to see him look at me like that, but he was oblivious. And no wonder, I think with a touch of bitterness. He was sleeping with somebody else. At this point, however, that’s not why I changed things up. My reason isn’t here yet.
“I’ve got to admit,” Lila says, still studying Ry. “I’m surprised. I would’ve thought he was fundamentally decent. He seems like a good guy.”
Crap, I don’t want her to think he’s a cheater. Technically we weren’t together, so the mess with Cassie isn’t that. “He is. He just … made a mistake. Lied to me. And I can’t handle it.”
“Oh. So we don’t hate him?”
I shake my head. “Mostly, I’m sad. I wish he hadn’t done it, but some lies change everything.”
“Absolutely, they do.” From the ferocity of her tone, I’m guessing Lila has some personal experience with this, but I don’t pry.
Privately I wonder if Dylan lied, and that’s why they broke up. Once we get to know each other better, maybe she’ll tell me. It’s pretty cool to have somebody who wants to hang out with me, not because of Ryan or because we’re in the same club. Just … because. Since moving here, I’ve avoided that kind of closeness, mostly because the more friends you have, the harder it is to keep secrets. More people mean more questions. And I wasn’t ready. My first year here, I was barely functional, so it’s no surprise I imprinted on Ryan and let him drive my social life.
“I have to get to class,” I say then.
“Sucks we don’t have any together. See you at lunch, though?” It’s a question, not an assumption.
“I brought mine, so I’ll get a table.”
Lila acknowledges the plan with a jerk of her chin, then she dives into the stream of students, letting them carry her toward her class on the opposite side of school. I haven’t seen Shane this morning, but maybe he’s running late. I wander through my morning classes hoping for a glimpse of him, but still, nothing. Geometry confirms it; he’s not in today. The desk diagonal, one up from mine, seems more than usually empty; I’m so disappointed, and I hate that I am. To put the cherry on the crap cake, I get my quiz back. As expected, it’s another circled red F. That clinches it—I have to tell Aunt Gabby. It’s not that she’ll be mad at me; I can’t stand her disappointed look. Maybe the news that I have a tutor lined up will help. Kind of, I see there’s a problem and I’m working to solve it.
“Miss Czinski, I need to see you after class.” Mackiewicz levels a serious business stare on me while the rest of the class goes “ooooooooooooh” in that super-annoying way.
“Yes, sir.”
As anticipated, he lectures me on how poorly I’m doing and tells me how he expects better from someone of my academic stature. Seriously, that’s verbatim. I listen meekly until he’s finished, and then offer, “I’m definitely struggling, but I’m taking steps and getting help. My performance will improve.”
Mackiewicz seems mollified. “Good. I know you can do better.”
Glad somebody’s sure of that.
On impulse, as soon as I escape from his class, I head to admin. Ms. Smith is the only one around at this time. She looks young, to the point that I suspect she was my age when she had Dylan. I imagine her wanting to be a dancer or something; I doubt her dreams included working in the school office.
“I was wondering if you could get me a copy of Shane Cavendish’s schedule. He’s out sick today, and I’m taking his homework to him.” My voice doesn’t reveal that I happen to know a juicy secret about her.
“Not a problem. That’s sweet of you.”