Part of me felt like it wasn’t anyone’s business, but then again, she was curious, and I probably would be, too, if I were in her shoes. Talking to her made me nervous, but I pushed past it. “We...we knew each other when we were younger.”
“Really? That’s cool.” Keira leaned against the locker next to me as she pulled out her phone, glancing at the screen. “I figured you two had to know each other. He was really...uh, hands-on with you, which is strange.”
Shoving my history text inside, I grabbed my English book since I had homework. I looked at her as I closed the door. “Why is that strange?”
“We’ve been in the same school since we were freshmen, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hold another chick’s hand, including Paige’s,” she said, grinning. “And they’re together.”
And why did that make me all kinds of warm and happy inside?
“Or something like that,” she added.
What did that mean? And come to think of it, why hadn’t I asked him about Paige during lunch? That would’ve been a normal question. But he had kept me busy answering all of his questions.
She laughed, because what I was thinking must’ve been plastered across my face. “I mean, I don’t get the impression that whatever he and Paige have is really serious.”
The warm and happy started to grow, and I stomped it down. It had no place here in this conversation.
“Anyway, he was in one of my classes last year, and you know, he kind of showed up whenever he wanted to. Me and Maggie—you don’t know her—but anyway, we used to say he was gracing us with his hotness. He wouldn’t take notes or really participate in class. Sometimes I swear he actually slept,” she continued. “But anytime he was called on, he knew the answer. No one could figure it out, especially the teacher. Used to drive her crazy and it entertained the rest of us. One of my other friends, Benny, was in his class last year when we were taking the MSA exams, and he overheard the teacher saying that Rider totally blew the rest of the class away in terms of scores. One of the highest in the entire junior class supposedly.”
That sounded like Rider.
“It’s strange, considering he’s a foster kid and—”
“I’m a foster kid.” Those words burst right out of me.
Her eyes widened as she held up a hand. “Whoa. I didn’t mean anything bad about that. I’m the last person to be judgey. Duh. It’s just that...” She looked around before she continued. “He’s hung out with some shady people and I know shady people. My brother, Trevor? He’s in jail right now, because of the shady people in this broke-ass city. My cousin? Dead because he hung out with people like that.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “Well, my cousin was also shady, so...”
I thought about that car in the parking lot, and I wondered if Hector and Jayden were included in that shady people definition.
“Anyway, I’ve got to go to practice.” She paused, looking hopeful. “I couldn’t convince you to swing by and see what you think?”
Shaking my head, I bit back a grin at Keira’s dramatic sigh. She wiggled her fingers and started to turn as I forced my tongue and lips to work. “See you...at lunch tomorrow?”
Okay. That was stupid, because I’d see her in English before lunch, but she nodded. “Yep. Bring Rider with you if you want. We could always use some hotness at the table.”
Hopefully, Rider would be in class tomorrow during lunch, but after what Keira said, that sounded doubtful. Part of me wasn’t surprised by the fact that he did what he wanted whenever he wanted. That was so him, but just like when we were younger, that willful side of him always got him in a load of trouble.
*
After I got off the computer with Ainsley, dinner was just hitting the table. Four years ago? I hadn’t eaten at a dinner table. Not even once. This table, with its polished wood surface, was the first I ever ate at outside school.
I sat down, smoothing my hands over the surface. When I first came home with the Rivases, I had felt like...like an animal. Wild. Uncomfortable. Caged. Unsure. They had expectations and schedules. They complimented and praised—both me and each other. There hadn’t been a specified dinnertime at Mr. Henry’s house nor had there been a plate of food waiting for Rider and me. We ate whatever was leftover. That was if anything was leftover. More often than not, there hadn’t been.
Sitting down at a table in the evening and listening to Carl and Rosa actually speak to each other instead of yell and curse had been a new experience for me. The kitchen table in my last home had been covered with cigarette burn marks and unread newspapers. Mr. Henry brought one with him every evening after completing his shift at a local packaging and receiving warehouse, but I’d never seen him read one.