Mrs. Hellstrom gives me a reassuring smile. “Nothing we write is ever perfect.”
“See?” Cruz nudges me and turns back to our teacher. “That’s exactly what I told her, but she won’t listen. It’s probably a writer thing. You must know what it’s like, Mrs. Hellstrom. I mean, you’re a writer. Does this ever happen to you?”
Mrs. Hellstrom sits straighter. “Of course. It happens to all writers.”
“Maybe Frankie could have a little more time?” Cruz asks.
“I’m not here to judge, Frankie. That’s not the purpose of the assignment, but I do need to know you’re working.”
“Oh, she’s definitely working.” Cruz opens my backpack and grabs my notebook. I lunge for it, but she pivots away from me. She tucks it under her chin and flips through the pages with her good hand. “Look at all this.”
Mrs. Hellstrom is too far away to read the words, but I snatch the notebook from Cruz anyway and clutch it against my chest.
“How much time do you think you need, Frankie?” Mrs. Hellstrom asks.
“I’m not sure. I’m still trying to figure out where it’s going.”
She nods and straightens a stack of papers on her desk. “Why don’t you check in with me on Friday?”
Not the response I was expecting. “That would be great.”
Cruz grabs my sleeve and drags me out. “Gotta go or we’ll be late for Shop.”
“Did that really just happen?” I ask Cruz as soon as we’re in the hallway and out of earshot.
She glances at my sneakers. “You can bet your sad-looking Adidas it did.”
“Seriously, Cruz, I owe you.”
“Technically, you owe my grandmother. She says people can learn everything they need to know about life from a good telenovela. And you can’t owe me, since I already owe you.”
Today when we walk down the hall, I only attract a few stares.
“Thanks.” I need to hold on to the journal, and not just to keep my English teacher from reading my private thoughts. Ever since I started writing in it, I’ve remembered more and more about the night Noah died.
It might be a coincidence. But what if it isn’t?
Cruz throws me a sideways look. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re friends. That’s the kind of stuff BFFs do for each other, right?”
“Yeah.” Lex would do anything for me—not that I deserve it after the way I’ve treated her. “But Lex has never pulled off a performance like that to save my ass with a teacher. That’s probably normal best friend stuff at Monroe.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Cruz stares straight ahead, owning the hallway as usual. “I’ve never had a best friend before.”
CHAPTER 20
TITANIUM
When Lex drops me off at the rec center, I bypass the front steps—and the raunchy basketball rejects who never seem to play any basketball—and walk behind the building. I slip a furry mouse-shaped toy out of my pocket and look around for Cyclops. I bought it last night at the grocery store when Cruz decided we had to celebrate my triumph over the ramp with powdered donuts.
There’s no sign of Cyclops, but he’ll end up back here sooner or later if Marco keeps bringing him milk from the vending machine. I leave the fur mouse next to the rotted playground structure where I saw Marco feed him.
As I circle back around to the front, I catch a glimpse of a Dodge Charger parked near the Section 8 apartments across the street—Dad’s undercover car. The matte-black paint job and cage of metal bars protecting the bumper and front end make his car unmistakable. Dad’s partner, Tyson, lights a cigarette and slouches against his vintage Crown Vic. Dad hassles him about driving the car model favored by police departments all over the country, but Tyson says that’s why he chose it. A car thief who drives a Crown Vic isn’t afraid of anyone.
I don’t see Dad, but he must be nearby.
Tyson watches the apartment building next to him, his ebony skin and pretty-boy bone structure partially hidden by the folds of his navy hoodie.
What are they doing here?
Dad said they never work in this part of the Downs. It feels strange, as if the two different worlds I live in suddenly intersected without my permission, and I make a quick dash for the glass doors.
Inside, the kids in my group are listening to music, dancing, and playing games on their cell phones instead of studying. The moment I walk through the door, Daniel calls out, “Hey, Frankie. We thought you ditched us.”
I drop my backpack next to my usual seat. “You’re not that lucky. Why isn’t anyone working?”
“We had an assembly today,” Daniel explains.
Sofia smiles. “Which means no homework.”
Carlos turns up the music playing on his phone. “That’s right.”
“Don’t you have any long-term projects?” I ask. Like a private journal your English teacher expects you to turn in?
Kumiko and her friends dance in a circle. “It’s only the first month of school.”
I flip open my chemistry book and take out a piece of paper. “Just don’t get me in trouble with Miss Lorraine.”