She leans on the brakes so suddenly that it’s a wonder we both don’t end up with whiplash. A truck swerves from behind us, honking, and the car rocks from its speed. “Cass!”
She stares at me, ignoring the truck. There’s hurt in her eyes. How did the conversation escalate so quickly? Why can’t I just let her laugh about Mr. Riley and leave it be? “You’re a tiny girl out of your comfort zone, Savs. Is it wrong that I’m looking out for you?”
“What do you think is going to happen?” Back off, leave her be, she’s too fragile for this. No, I need to know. “Marcos told me that you walked out of Nelson’s party during the fight.”
“Hell, yeah, I did,” she says without hesitation. “This Galway Beach–Ponquogue turf skirmish, it’s nothing like what I saw on the news at the hospital.” She pauses, gathering her words. “A migrant worker from El Salvador was waiting at the Montauk train station, and a bunch of teenagers stabbed him to death. Guys our age. That guy who sits outside of 7-Eleven every day–he was our age once. This is how it starts.”
It’s true. Someone in our school wrote on the lockers. Being an anonymous racist idiot is one thing, though, and crossing the line to physically hurting someone–that’s another.
“Well, it’s not going to stop me from hanging out with Marcos.”
I don’t have to look at her to know she’s just rolled her eyes at me.
“What, do you think I need someone to hold my hand?” I say.
“Look, Savs, I support whatever you want to do. You and Marcos? Totally cool. Gymnastics? Go ahead. Hell, maybe you should take your road test again.”
“Okay, Dad.”
She smiles. “Never thought you looked to me as a father figure, but okay. I just want you to go into this with your eyes open. That’s all.”
Was that how she’d walked under the bridge, eyes open and fully aware?
I push away the thought.
OUR ENTRANCE INTO school elicits more whispers than the red carpet. Fingers freeze mid-text and conversations halt.
Cassie pauses, looking a little seasick. All of the bravado she had in the car while doling out life advice is gone. “They’re judging me. They think I’m crazy.”
I grab her arm, the way she always does to me. It does the trick; she looks at me with nervous eyes. “You’re not crazy. You’re going through a tough time, and you’re getting help.”
I can tell she’s itching to crack her knuckles, except I’m holding her one hand away from the other. “I’m here for you, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes survey the lay of the land. The new photographs pinned up in the glass display case; the thicket of sophomores who look at her nervously; Jacki, who peeks her head around the bank of lockers and squeals, “Oh, my God, Cassie! It’s so great to see you! So, so great!”
“Okay,” she says, barely loud enough for me to hear her.
I give what I hope is a reassuring squeeze before releasing her hand. “You got this.”
We didn’t see eye to eye in the car. Right now, though, in front of everyone, we do what we do best: we stick by each other’s sides.
The first person to greet us isn’t Juliana or Marcos. There’s a quick twitch of limbs, a hop from the left foot to the right, and then Andreas Alvarez plants himself in front of us.
“I’m offended,” he says immediately. “I heard there was a shindig at your house last week and what, no invite? C’mon, Cass, show this guy a little love.”
Cass offers him a small smile.
“All right, all right, I’ll take it!” He turns to me. “I hear you’re tutoring Marcos, eh? Wanna hook a brother up?” He pokes me with an elbow.
“With Marcos? I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Burnt by the Gregory!” He draws back as if he’s in pain, still laughing. “Unbelievable, man. Absolutely unfreaking-believable. You’re gonna eat those words.”
“I’m terrified.”
Cassie’s smile has extended to something more real.
A wave of girls moves by, and Andreas points both index fingers, backpack bouncing against him. “Hey, Melanie, Janine, Alondra.” He nods to each girl, smile widening at the prettier ones. “Steph, how you doing today? How’s the basketball team shaping up?”
Despite the fact that he’s clearly a man on a mission, he keeps pace with us on our way to Cassie’s locker.
“Tough playoffs, huh?” I say, since apparently we’re friends now.
Andreas nods, and his whole body moves with him, a rapid twitch. “Those punks up island.” He rolls his eyes up to the holy heavens. “Coach made the fatal error of putting Tommy Brown back in the lineup.”
I glance around. “You know he can hear you, right?”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Andreas says cheerfully. “You can bet your ass that I let him know it.”
Cassie and I exchange a look. Somehow, I’m not surprised.
He loops his arms around both of us. “So Savannah, it’s my duty to find out what your intentions are with my main man.”
Cass actually laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, and somehow that makes Andreas’s grin even wider. How does the kid have so much energy?
“I’m helping him get a scholarship to Suffolk,” I say. “How’s that?”
He shrugs. The motion moves through his entire body. “I gotta tell you, Ms. Gregory, I’m pretty impressed. The kid takes freakin’ years to let anyone in. Then when he finally does, he jumps all over anyone who crosses you. Even when it’s got nothing to do with him.” For a moment he stands still, as though weighing whether or not he should continue. “You want to know something funny? Marcos went for a run yesterday. All because someone challenged him to do track.”
I look away quickly, except there’s no masking the flush on my cheeks or the way that both Andreas and Cassie are laughing. “Kid was panting like a dog. You know, he’s a kick-ass soccer player, but we could never get him to join the team.”
“Why not?”
“Like, he works a lot and shit. We get that. I think it’s something more. He’s scared to belong to something.”