I ignored him.
“We can continue to walk in silence, Mara, or you can ask me a bit about myself until we reach the classroom.”
He was infuriating. “What makes you think I’m at all curious about you?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he replied. “In fact, I’m quite sure you’re not at all curious. It’s intriguing.”
“Why’s that?” My classroom was at the end of the hall. Not much longer, now.
“Because most girls I meet here ask me where I’m from when they hear my accent. And they’re usually thrilled to have the pleasure of my conversation.”
Oh, the arrogance.
“It’s English, by the way.”
“Yeah, I caught that.” Only ten feet left.
“I was born in London.”
Seven feet left. Not going to respond.
“My parents moved here from England two years ago.”
Four feet.
“I don’t have a favorite color, though I strongly dislike yellow. Horrid color.”
Two feet.
“I play the guitar, love dogs, and hate Florida.”
Noah Shaw played dirty. I smiled despite myself. And then we reached the classroom.
I darted to the back of the room and planted myself at a desk in the corner.
Noah followed me in. He wasn’t even in this class.
Noah took the seat next to me, and I pointedly ignored the fit of his clothes on his narrow frame as he slid by. Jamie walked in and sat on my other side, giving me a long look before shaking his head. I took out my graph paper and prepared to calculate. Which meant that I doodled until Mr. Walsh came around to collect last night’s homework. He stopped at the desk Noah was now occupying.
“Can I help you, Mr. Shaw?”
“I’m auditing your class today, Mr. Walsh. I’m in desperate need of an Algebraic brush-up.”
“Uh-huh,” Mr. Walsh said dryly. “Do you have a note?”
Noah stood and left the room. He returned as Mr. Walsh reviewed last night’s homework, and, sure enough, handed the teacher a piece of paper. The teacher said nothing, and Noah sat back down next to me. What kind of school was this?
When Mr. Walsh began to speak again, I doodled furiously in my notebook again and ignored Mr. Walsh. The dog. Noah had distracted me, and I needed to figure out how to save her.
Thoughts of the dog consumed my morning. I didn’t think about Noah, even though he stared at me in Algebra with the single-minded focus of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn. I didn’t look at him once as I took notes, and didn’t notice his permanently amused expression while I fidgeted in my seat.
Or the way he ran his long fingers through his hair every five seconds.
Or how he rubbed his eyebrow whenever Mr. Walsh asked me a question.
Or the way he leaned his coarse cheek into his hand and just …
Stared at me.
When class finally ended, Anna looked primed for murder, Jamie booked it before I could say a word, and Noah waited as I gathered my things. He had no things. No notebooks. No books. No bag. It was bizarre. My confusion must have shown on my face because that delinquent grin was back.
I resolved to wear something yellow the next time I saw him. Yellow from head to toe, if I could manage it.
We walked in silence until a swinging door ahead caught my eye.
The bathroom. An ingenious idea.
When we reached it, I turned to Noah.
“I’m going to be in here for a while. You probably don’t want to wait.”
I only briefly caught the horrified expression on his face before I pushed open the door with overwhelming force. Win.
There were a few girls in the bathroom of indeterminate age, but they paid no attention to me as they left. I was glad to get away from Noah, so I stifled the part of me that wanted to know his favorite song to play on guitar. Jamie had warned me about this nonsense; Noah was toying with me, and I’d be foolish to forget it.
And none of this was important. The dog was important. During Algebra, while ignoring Noah, I’d decided to call Animal Control and file a complaint against Abuser Douche. I took out my cell phone. Surely someone would be sent to follow up on my complaint, and see that the dog was on the brink of death. Then they’d get her out of there.
I dialed information, asking for the number of the city’s Animal Control office and scribbled it down on my hand. The phone rang three times before a female voice answered.
“This is Animal Control Officer Diaz, can I help you?”
“Yes, I am calling to complain about a neglected dog.”