I raised my hand gently.
She nodded and pointed toward the door.
“Right. Hurry out so we don't have further interruptions.”
I shoved my books into my backpack, zipped it up, and made my way to the door. A few of the students whistled low under their breath as I passed. Rumors about Chase and me had been circulating since the stone ages, but since I’d moved back, they’d started up again with a vengeance. I purposely looked past Chase as I walked out of the door, and it wasn't until we were out in the hallway that I stopped and eyed him with a skeptical smile.
“Show me what's on that piece of paper,” I said, holding out my hand.
He'd written a hall pass in chicken-scratch that wouldn't have passed the inspection of a ten-year-old.
“Lilah Calloway to see Mrs. Hill for a 4:00 PM appointment,” I read aloud.
I glanced back up to Chase. His hazel eyes watched me with curiosity and I was torn between wanting to thank him and wanting to run far, far away.
“You know if she’d actually looked at this piece of paper, she’d have realized that this wasn’t on school stationery. Also, that’s not the counselor’s name.”
“What?” he laughed and swiped the note back to reread it. “I thought her name was Mrs. Hill.”
“It's Mrs. Heaney.”
His brows shot up. “Huh. I've talked to her like five times and I never knew.”
I laughed. “Why'd you actually pull me out of detention?”
“I have a taste for adventure,” he said, waggling his eyebrows seductively. My stomach dipped in anticipation. “Let's go before someone sees us out here.”
I had no clue where he was leading me, but I followed him blindly. Chase had found a loophole to my evasiveness: trust him, or go back to detention.
“If someone stops us, tell them you're going to see your dad because you don't feel well,” he explained.
No one was going to stop us. The final bell had only rung fifteen minutes earlier and students were still lingering in the hallways. Chase held the back door open for me and I slipped on my sunglasses. The sun was bright for late February and I knew my flowerbeds back home were appreciating the warmth.
I followed him around the school, straight past the parking lot. I knew if I looked, I’d find people watching us, so I kept my head forward and trudged on. His beat up truck was parked outside of the perimeter fence. He rounded the front and opened my door for me, ushering me inside with a wave of his arm.
“Check the seat before you sit,” he warned.
I glanced down to find a small worn camera case sitting on the passenger side of the bench seat. I reached for it, feeling the soft brown leather beneath my fingertips.
“Is this yours?”
“It was, but now it belongs to you.”
I narrowed my eyes, twisting the case around my hands. “What do you mean?”
“What good is a sleuth without a camera?”
I unclipped the flap of the case and pulled out the vintage camera, holding it in my hand like a baby bird.
“It’s a vintage 1952 Leica M3,” he declared.
I glanced back to see him eyeing the camera in my hands with a proud smile stretched across his lips. “Does it work?”
He laughed. “No, Lilah. I gave you a broken camera.”
I rolled my eyes. “It just looks so old.”
“I promise it’s good as new, and it even has a serial number that’s over 1,000,000. Collectors love those because it means it was built near the end of this model’s production, so the factory workers were at the top of their game,” he explained. “Now hop in and I’ll teach you how to use it.”
I gripped the camera and stepped toward the truck before the weight of reality slammed down around me.
I can’t leave with Chase.
It was so easy to pretend things were normal, that we were normal, but in reality, we were a thousand miles from it. I eased away from the truck, clutched the camera in my hand, and shook my head. Chase frowned as I thanked him for getting me out of detention and he stood there dumbfounded as I turned and walked away.
Every step I took away from him made it easier to clear my head.
It was easy to gravitate toward Chase. He had the charm and the smile and the heart. He promised happiness and I’d almost let myself believe him, but I knew better.
My mother had ruined Hannah; I refused to ruin Chase.
…
Chase
To me, Lilah meant late nights sneakin’ out, moonlit hair, and sparklers in July. She’d been the brightest part of my childhood and now she was evading me at all costs. She thought she was doing me a favor by giving me space, she thought my hatred for her mom extended to her as well. I was sure she’d worked out some convoluted explanation in her mind, but the truth was I loved Lilah even as she walked away from me that day.
I would always love Lilah.
Chapter Forty
Chase