Hazel tilts her head like a lap dog. “Well why would you do that to her then?”
“I’m not.” I bang my fist on my desk. A few chairs scrape against the floor or groan with the shifting of weight. Our teacher clears her throat, peering over the frames of her glasses. I wait for her to continue reading, then pin Hazel with a glare, saying, “Enough. Stop trying to make something out of nothin’.”
“Maybe I’ll just have to talk to Roy again, see what he has to say ’bout all of this.”
“Again?”
“Why yes, Bonnelyn. Roy and I are going to the soda shop together after school.”
She smiles. I jump to my feet, my own chair making an ugly scraping noise. Once I’m standing, I’ve no clue what to do next. Throttle her neck? Slap her? Demand she stay away from Roy? My options bounce through my head while twenty pairs of eyes stare at me, while our teacher insists that I sit down.
“Bonnelyn”—Hazel sucks air through her teeth—“you’re making a scene.”
My brain kicks into gear. I flee.
The final bell chimes at the same time I yank open the classroom door.
I have one blissful second of aloneness in the hall before my classmates swarm, pouring out of doorways.
People must think I’m crazed, the way I storm toward the exit, sobbing, zigzagging, plowing into shoulders.
The cooler air is a godsend. I step out onto our school’s empty promenade and take a deep, calming breath before I continue my escape, walking at a near-jog toward Blanche’s car on the street.
I yank Big Bertha’s door, but it’s locked.
I kick the tire and curse, pleading that Blanche won’t be long.
“Bonnelyn?” I hear behind me.
No. Please no. Not now.
“Bonn?”
My bottom lip quivers and I hold back more tears.
“Hi, Roy,” I say softly, and face him.
He takes a step closer, running a hand through his hair. So many boys today grease their hair, but not Roy. Roy doesn’t get caught up in that stuff. Never has.
“What’s going on?” he says gently. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
“What are you doing with Hazel Griffin?”
Immediately, I’m annoyed with myself. There’s so much I could say, and I say that.
Roy’s brows scrunch. “Hazel?”
“Yes, Hazel. Apparently you two are going out after school?”
“Sure, but with Ruth and Shirley, too.”
“You are going out with three girls?” I ask, even more annoyed with how my voice sounds shrill.
Roy laughs, actually laughs. “We’re all on the paper together. Hazel is fanatical ’bout our first edition and wants to brainstorm.”
I bite my lip. “Right.”
Roy shoves his hands in his pockets, rolls back on his heels. As he rolls forward, he says, “Now that that’s cleared up, want to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”
I open my mouth, close it, afraid of the lies that’ll come pouring out. I desperately want to tell him ’bout my ma. I want his arms ’round me. But I don’t feel like I deserve his comfort.
“This Bonn,” Roy continues, “and the Bonn that snuck in my bedroom window are two very different girls.”
I look away, embarrassed, not by how I acted then or now but by the Bonn in between.
He nudges my chin, focusing my attention on him again. “Do you regret it? Us, together that way?”
“No,” I say, and mean it. I touch his arm, needing to feel that contact, even if I’m undeserving. What I regret is Henry. Every single moment I’ve ever spent with Henry.
“Good.” Roy takes my hand. “I was kind of hoping that’d happen again.”
I laugh, needing to laugh. But behind Roy’s lighthearted comment is a tense jaw. My laugh trails off and we’re left with an awkward silence.
“Roy,” I say quietly, noting the other students ’round us. “I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumors—”
“I have.”
“Oh.” I moisten my lips. “What Hazel’s sayin’ ’bout me ain’t true.”
“So you weren’t with someone else?”
My cheeks flush. Henry’s silhouette from the darkened closet and the sound of breaking glass crashes into my mind.
“Bonn?” Roy presses.
“I was with someone, but I was with Buck.”
He repeats the name, as if it’s a dirty four-letter word, and I quickly clarify. “Blanche’s boyfriend.”
He sighs. “Now that’s the first thing that’s sounding like a lie.”
“I swear it. Blanche really does have a boyfriend.” I put so much conviction into that statement ’cause it’s the truth. And lately, for me, the truth has been hard to come by.
“’Tis true,” Blanche says, all but skipping toward us. “I’m spoken for.”
Roy’s hand tightens on mine, and it’s obvious he ain’t happy to see her.
“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” he says to her.
“That ain’t my problem. Look, Roy, I get you’re annoyed Bonnelyn has been spending so much time with me, but I’ve needed her. In fact, I’m going to need her all night. You can have her back tomorrow.”
Judging by the slow rise of Roy’s chest, he ain’t a fan of Blanche telling him what to do.
I give his hand a squeeze. “You really should go, Roy,” I say.
His forehead creases, probably not a fan I told him to leave, either. But it’s for the best. I’ve got work. I’ve got Blanche. And I don’t want her opening her mouth again and making Roy’s jaw any tighter.
I watch him go. Blanche is already climbing in and out of Big Bertha to get her started, yapping ’bout something. I’m too distracted to listen. Hazel has tramped down the school’s stairs and is now throwing her arms ’round my boyfriend. Roy does nothin’ to stop her, like how I’d done nothin’ to stop Henry, and Hazel grins all vamp-like in my direction.
“Bonn!” Blanche calls. “Get in.”
I slam the door behind me, harder than necessary.
“You mad? I know I shouldn’t get him riled up. But, like I told you before, he makes it so easy. Once I get going—”
“It’s fine.” I keep my eyes trained ahead, refusing to look in Hazel’s direction again and add to her self-satisfaction.
Blanche is quiet a few beats, then says, “Okay, good. ’Cause we’ve got bigger problems.”
“What?”
“Those rumors ’bout you and Buck.”
I sigh. “Roy doesn’t believe ’em. Everything is jake.”
Blanche purses her lips, puts Big Bertha into gear. “Whatever you say.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Roy’s hot and cold.”
“He’s only cold with you, Blanche.”
She snorts. “Maybe. But you know Hazel is hoping he gets hot with her. She’s been pining for him for years.”
“She’s with Jimmy.”
“Uh-huh…”
I shake my head. “You ain’t helping me have a good Bonn Day one bit.”
“You’re right. I’m done. But I reckon Roy’s not done thinkin’ it all over.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have interrupted us, then.” I cross my arms. Dallas passes outside my window. “Why’s it even matter to you, Blanche?”
“What? You and Roy? Besides the fact you’re my best friend?” She smiles sweetly at me.
I give her a Be serious look. We both know that Blanche’s main concern is Blanche.
“Fine. I’m ’bout to admit something to you, Bonn, but you can’t do that thing where you purse your lips. Deal?”