I sighed. “No, not like that,” I said. “But I’m still sorry.” I hadn’t heard from Bee yet, and I wasn’t sure what it would be like when I saw her. Maybe she would try to apologize, try to be my friend again. But no matter what she said, I knew I couldn’t let her back into my life. What she did hurt me even more than Parker, even more than the assault in the mall bathroom, because I had trusted her. I knew now I would have to be careful with who I let myself get close to. But maybe that was a lesson everybody had to learn.
“Don’t apologize,” Chloe said. She plucked two long pieces of grass and held them between her index and middle fingers. “Really, don’t. It was just that you were new, and pretty, and you just came in and got everything you wanted, and then it felt like you took her too. And it was like everything was so hard for me, while it seemed so easy for you. But I know now that it ain’t that simple.”
I gave her a wry smile. “No. ‘Simple’ is not a word that has ever described my life.”
We sat for a few minutes in pleasant silence before I asked, “So I haven’t heard anything since homecoming … how’s your family been about the news?”
“My folks’re a work in progress,” Chloe said with a shrug. “My brothers sort of always knew, and they’re more or less okay. They say Bee’s lucky she’s a girl or they’d’ve run her over in our pickup for what she did at homecoming.”
“Misogyny saves the day?” I said.
“It’s all bluster,” Chloe said, letting the blades of grass get blown away by the wind.
“Chloe?” I said, looking around to make sure nobody was looking. “I’m going to do something now, as a friend, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, knitting her brows. I pulled her into a bone-crushing hug and kissed her on the cheek. “You are a fucking amazing girl and whatever town you end up in, whatever girl you end up with, they’re all lucky to have you.”
“Thank you,” Chloe said, her cheeks bright red. She brushed off her jeans as we both stood up. “And you—whatever guy you end up with’ll be lucky too.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder. “Think it’ll be Grant? Is there any way?”
I checked the clock on my phone, stood, and shrugged as I picked up my own bag. “I have no idea,” I said. “But I guess I’ll find out today.”
*
As I made my way to homeroom, I kept my eyes locked on the glossy floor tiles, afraid to look up and make eye contact with my classmates. The bell hadn’t rung yet and the hallways reverberated with the sounds of sneakers on floor tile and slamming locker doors.
“Welcome back,” I heard a voice say, and looked up to see a mousy girl with cat-eye glasses gripping the straps of her backpack and smiling at me. She looked vaguely familiar, but I didn’t think we’d ever spoken before. I realized that even though I didn’t know her, she knew me, and the thought that she noticed I was gone—and that I’d come back—made me smile.
I continued down the hall with my head held high. A few classmates looked away when I passed, but the rest nodded in my direction or waved. As I rounded the corner toward homeroom, I stopped short. A dozen students were milling outside the locked classroom door, waiting for the teacher to arrive, and my eyes were immediately drawn to Grant’s broad back. My mouth tugged in a smile at the sight of him, but then he turned around, and my brain caught up.
The crowd parted for him easily, all eyes on us. He looked around and registered how many people were staring. “Can we go somewhere else?”
I nodded and together we walked down the hall and into the empty cafeteria.
When the doors closed behind us he looked up. His eyes were shining, his gaze unreadable.
“Hey,” he said again.
“Hey.” I looked down. “How are you?”
“I got news,” he said, squinting and rubbing the back of his neck, looking away again. “I won the Hope Scholarship to go down to Chatt State.”
“Congratulations!” I said, meaning it. “I’m really happy for you.” Our eyes met again for a moment and words passed silently between us. I love you and I need you. I’m sorry and forgive me.
“Sorry about my dad,” I said finally.
“Ah,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose where the blow had hit. “He’s got a mean right hook for an old guy.”
I looked away, but couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll tell him you said so.”
“I understand though,” Grant said. I returned my eyes to him. He was leaning against the wall, looking up at the lights, picking nervously at his thumbnail. “What Parker did … your dad thought it was me.” I nodded. “It’s not exactly the same, but if anybody hurt Avery or Harper…” He clenched his fists. His eyes were wide when they met mine again, and there was too much behind them to decipher. “I’d probably do more than punch ’em.”
“I’m glad you understand,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm but stopping myself. He noticed the movement and sighed.
The bell rang, but neither of us moved.
“You didn’t call,” I said, trying to keep the hurt from my voice.