Nobody answered immediately, and Bex felt a niggle of fear at the back of her neck. Someone jostled between her and Trevor, and he broke hands with her while a line of students trudged through. She whirled when someone called her name, but Trevor still wasn’t there.
“Trevor?” Her voice was swallowed in the din of students talking and the far-off wail of the fire alarms. “Trev?”
She began to walk, then blinked when two teachers rushed by her. She didn’t recognize them. She didn’t recognize the boy who bumped into her or the two girls behind her. Bex turned, anxiety starting to swell.
“Bex?”
She turned, trying to find the person who said her name. It wasn’t Trevor. It wasn’t Mr. Ponterra. The voice was rich and deep, but it was familiar.
“Bex!”
Had he said Bex or Beth?
A man was coming toward her, fast, but he turned before she got a good look at him. But the profile, his hair, his broad shoulders…
Dad?
Another alarm blared. Someone stood up with a bullhorn. Someone was cheering—or was it screaming?
She stumbled over her feet, thought she heard someone mumble, “sorry” or “’scuse me.”
Bex pressed her palm over her chest, felt her heart slamming against her ribs. She was breathing hard, her cheeks and eyes burning. She started to walk blindly toward the school, weaving through the crowd that seemed to swell and push against her.
“Hey, hey, you can’t go in yet. That way.” Someone grabbed her by the shoulder and steered her toward the left. Someone turned, elbowing her in the chin. She stumbled backward and tripped. Bex hit the ground, her tailbone smacking against the packed dirt. She saw a snatch of bright-blue sky before the crowd closed in around her, legs and backpacks and arms closing in on her. She was crying, trying to push herself up, but each time she did someone pushed past her and she felt back down again.
“Trevor!” She stared to sob. “Stop, please, I’m down here! Don’t!”
“Bex?”
Trevor pushed between the crowd, his face appearing at her eye level. He reached out and slid his arms around Bex’s waist. “Move, assholes! Someone is down here!”
A few kids stepped away, looking stunned. Most looked annoyed but still moved.
“Are you okay?”
Bex looked around, blinking in the too-bright sunlight. “I-I fell.” She tried to shake Trevor off, feeling instantly embarrassed. “I just tripped and fell, that’s all.”
Trevor kept a tight hold on her, leveling her chin with a finger. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not big on crowds either.”
Someone came on the bullhorn again, and this time, Bex could hear the order. The fire alarm had been cleared; students were told to return to the building and go to their next class. It was now her lunch period. She raked a hand through her short hair.
“God, you must think I’m the biggest idiot.”
Trevor brushed a clump of grass from the knee of Bex’s jeans. “Not the biggest idiot,” he said with a soft smile. “Actually, I kind of think you’re one of the coolest girls I know.”
She felt herself blushing. “Thanks. I guess I don’t really feel all that cool. You know…ever.”
“You’re pretty hard on yourself.”
Bex cocked her head. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Trevor.”
He shrugged. “Like your locker number or ATM code? I figure that’s more of a second semester of dating thing.”
“I’m serious.”
The smile dropped from Trevor’s lips. “You are? Are you an ex-con? An undercover cop? Really a man? Because all those things are okay with me. Well, most of them are. If you’re a dude, I probably won’t take you to prom, but we can still hang out and catch a few games together.”
Bex shoved her hands in her back pockets and smiled. “Is there anything you’re not cool about?”
“Narwhals,” he deadpanned. “They don’t get the respect they deserve.”
Bex rolled her eyes as she and Trevor strolled away from the school and toward the football field, where they slid onto the lowest bench on the bleachers. Trevor took both of her hands in his, his eyes soft.
“Seriously, you can tell me whatever you want, Bex. Or you don’t have to tell me anything. I mean, I want to know everything about you. But only if you’re cool with that. There’s nothing you can say that’s going to make me think less of you.”
“Unless it’s something derogatory about narwhals.”