He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her suddenly down on his lap. “Let’s not talk about Claire right now, okay?”
Then they were kissing again. And Mac did as she was told: Her mind went blank. For once, she wasn’t worrying about how she looked or sounded—or about what she was doing to Claire. She wasn’t thinking about anything but Blake’s lips, Blake’s hands, and Blake’s body. In that moment, nothing and no one existed except her and the boy she’d loved for so many years from afar.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ON WEDNESDAY, AVA SHOWED UP to film studies class early, hoping to talk to Mr. Granger, but he didn’t come into the classroom until the final bell rang.
“Okay, everyone,” he said, and turned to write on the chalkboard. “Today we’re going to start a new film. This one is called The Bad Seed. Anyone heard of it?”
A lot of eager hands shot up, Ava’s included. He turned around and his eyes landed on her. “It’s the one about the little girl who commits murder,” she said, encouraged.
Granger nodded. “A perfect-seeming child. Daughter of a perfect family. How on earth could she be capable of something so awful?”
Ava’s stomach clenched. It was a strange choice of film after one of his students was murdered. She glanced at the others. Mac shifted. Julie tapped her toe incessantly.
Granger walked over to the television and turned it on. “Those of you who have seen it, what would you say are some of the main themes?”
Ava’s hand shot up again. She was determined to redeem herself after that big red C. “Nature versus nurture,” she volunteered. “A perfect family should, in theory, raise a perfect girl. What went wrong?”
“Indeed.” Granger’s smiled gleamed. “So what could go wrong, Ava? Any thoughts?”
“Well.” Ava could feel everyone looking at her. “Maybe some people are just born evil. They can’t help it.”
Granger snapped his fingers. “That’s one of the central arguments in this film: Are people born evil, or good? Very smart, Ava.”
She sat back and grinned. Alex caught her eye and raised his brow. Show-off, he mouthed teasingly.
“We can even think of examples in our own life,” Granger went on. “There might be people we know about whom we ask that very question.”
Granger dimmed the lights, and everyone quieted down as the film came on the screen. It was just as scary as Ava had remembered, and the little girl in the movie reminded her a lot of Nolan. When the final bell rang, she started to pack up her books, pulling nervously at the hem of the gray Theory dress she’d worn because she knew it made her look serious.
“Hey,” Alex said, turning around with a grin. “Want to go off campus for lunch today?”
She smiled at him. “Thanks. But I need to talk to Mr. Granger.”
“Oh, right. Good luck.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Ava waited until everyone else had left the classroom before she stood up and slowly walked to the front of the room. Mr. Granger was erasing the chalkboard, his back to her. Outside the classroom she heard the hallway filling with the chaos of freed students, lockers slamming and kids shouting. When Mr. Granger finally turned, he looked surprised to see her there.
“Ava. What can I do for you?”
The essay trembled in her hands, the big red C at the top catching her eye. She bit her lip and tried to sound as confident as possible. “I wanted to talk to you about this grade, Mr. Granger.”
He sat down on the edge of his desk. “I see. Do my comments make sense to you?”
She shrugged, still staring down at the paper. “I guess so. You thought it was stupid.”
“Not stupid.” He stood up off the desk quickly, and all at once they were standing so close together she had to look up to meet his gaze. A warm, citrusy smell came off him, like tangerines sitting in sunlight. She swallowed.
“The essay was very well written, Ava. Your prose is among the most sophisticated in the class. But the arguments were unfocused, nothing like your previous papers.”
Ava nodded. “Yeah. I was kind of distracted when I wrote it.”
“It was a tough topic, and this was a tough week,” Granger said, his green eyes steady on her. “It’s hard to lose a classmate—or, in my case, a student.”
Ava bit her lip, casting her eyes down.
Granger leaned back against the desk. “Perhaps you were at a disadvantage because of your group.”
“Um . . . right.” Ava tried to gauge his expression. What did he mean by that?
He looked at her expectantly, and she tried not to sound shaky as she forged ahead. “What I came to ask is, I’d like to rewrite the essay for a new grade.”
Mr. Granger paused for a second, then nodded. “That sounds fair,” he said. “Why don’t we meet and talk about it. What’s your schedule like this week?”
“I’m free whenever works for you,” Ava said agreeably.