My legs don’t feel quite up to the task of carrying my weight as I walk through the halls toward the caf. My neck is pinched with tension, and I’m plagued by the unmistakable feeling of being watched. But every time I spin around, no one is looking at me.
Ethan’s at our usual table with Jackie and Mike and a couple of guys from swim. I didn’t fully realize how much I’ve missed him until I see him telling a story in that animated way he does, all big eyes and flailing hands. He doesn’t talk to me like that anymore.
Just go over there, Callahan, I tell myself. Tell him about the car. “You’ll never believe what happened this morning—our car exploded!” After we’re past the initial awkward hump, it’ll be like it was before. He’ll know what to do about all this, and even if he doesn’t, it will feel good just to know he’s there.
I blow out a breath and start to cross to the table when I hear my name called. Tucker waves me over from his table by the back window. I hesitate, glancing at Ethan. He’s looking at me now. The laughter is gone from his face, replaced by narrowed eyes and a hard jaw. He’s angry. Angry enough to blow up a car?
Stop it.
It’s a stupid thought, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not going to sit with someone who can’t treat me with respect.
A low murmur spreads through the caf as I cross toward Tucker. I try to catch Farrah’s eye as I near, but she makes a concerted effort not to look at me.
When I reach the table, Tucker scooches over and pats the seat next to him. “Come sit with us.”
Sadie says, “What?” and someone else snorts.
“Ignore my idiot friends,” Tucker says. “They have no lives.”
I should say no—this has disaster written all over it—but Ethan’s gaze bores a hole into my back, and there’s no way I’m going to give him the satisfaction of schlepping back to him with my tail between my legs, like he was right.
I circle the table and drop my bag onto the floor as I wedge into the spot next to Tucker. Amber Reyes is on my other side. She gives me a friendly smile, carefully placing an orange slice into her mouth so as not to ruin her lipstick. Sadie may be the most popular girl in school, but Amber is the one pretty much every guy—and girl—at St. Beatrice drools over. And I don’t blame them. With her wild, sexy curls, honey-colored skin, and perfect curves, she could probably walk into the Sports Illustrated offices and land the cover of the swimsuit issue on the spot.
This is so weird.
It feels like hundreds of eyes are watching, and when I risk a glance out at the caf, I realize it’s because they are. Practically everyone is twisted around to watch the pale, skinny sick kid sit at the popular kids’ table. My stomach coils into a knot. I don’t know how I’m going to eat. Much less eat my strange diet of high-calorie meal-replacement bars and extra-salty crackers.
“So, Hope,” Sadie says.
Oh no. Here it goes.
I meet her eyes, trying to look confident even as a slow thud of a heartbeat starts in my chest.
“Was that your mommy with you the other day?”
“Sadie,” Tucker warns.
Everyone at the table turns to me, waiting for my answer. I don’t know whether she knows the truth and wants me to humiliate myself by making me say it out loud or she just wants to humiliate me in general. Probably both.
“It was,” I say.
Sadie makes a face like she just sucked on a package of Sour Patch Kids. Down the table someone makes a lame attempt to stifle a giggle.
“But, like, why?” she asks.
“Why do you box-dye your hair?” Farrah cuts in, sharp and smooth.
“Oh, snap!” Amber says as laughter ripples down the table. Two red spots bloom on Sadie’s cheeks.
I glance at Farrah. She meets my eyes momentarily before she flicks her braid behind her shoulder and stabs a fork into her salad.
“I do not,” Sadie mutters, splitting her glare between Farrah and me.
Sadie Fortier definitely has the kind of malice it would take to make four girls swim with the gators and to blow up a car all in the same night. And finding dirt on Farrah would be easier if you were in the same social circle. She has just as much access to money as Tucker does. She could easily be part of the Society.
“So are you guys coming to the Children’s thing?” Amber’s twisted around to look at me, and she’s either a very good actress or she’s legitimately interested in the answer.
I look at Tucker. I don’t know how to answer the question. We’ve barely talked since that day in his room, and in my mind he’s still 50 percent suspect, but to everyone else we’ve become something. Tucker’s throat bobs as he swallows his bite of sandwich. “We hadn’t talked about it. I don’t know if boring benefits are up Hope’s alley.”
“Talk about an understatement,” Sadie mutters.
A blush rises to my cheeks.
“It’s not nearly as boring as it sounds,” Amber says.
“What is it exactly?” I ask.
“A fund-raiser for the Children’s Hospital. Our parents are on the board, so we’re forced to go,” Tucker says.