WEDNESDAY, 3:15 P.M.
I walked into Chemistry tense, my whole body coiled tight like it was ready to spring at something—at someone—all nails and spit and screeching.
But nothing happened. I caught one eyebrow-raise from Jemma Aitkinson as I shuffled past her to my seat, but Jemma had always sucked. I wasn’t going into freak-out mode over Jemma.
No one talked to me in class. No one even looked at me. By the time the bell rang, I was starting to hope Mr. Jenkins had actually known what he was talking about.
He hadn’t.
It probably only took fifteen seconds to brush all the fries piled on the hood of my car to the ground. There were hundreds—krinkly ones from the cafeteria, skinny ones like at the McDonald’s near the hockey arena, even some waffle-cuts I didn’t recognize. They left different-shaped grease streaks across the hood, little ghosts of themselves that I’d have to find a car wash to get rid of if I didn’t want Mom to ask questions.
But with Jessie Florenzano’s braying laugh drawing a crowd that stayed just far enough away to not look like they’d done it, it felt like hours.
chapter twelve
KYLE
WEDNESDAY, 3:25 P.M.
“Kyle, wait up.” I was halfway across the parking lot when I heard Emma’s voice behind me.
I’d made up some confusion about the subjunctive tense so I could talk to Se?ora long enough for the halls to clear out. Apparently I hadn’t waited long enough.
I still felt . . . not bad, or angry, more like tense about the run-in with Lamont. Uncomfortable, like it was something stuck between my teeth.
I stopped to let Emma catch up, trying not to focus on the tension knots forming in my shoulders. After last night’s blow-up, I couldn’t help dreading what she had to say. We hadn’t seen each other since second-hour Econ, and she hadn’t looked at me that entire class. Message received. She jogged the last few steps, shiny brown curls bouncing against her pale cheeks.
“Hey, Emma,” I said cautiously.
But she didn’t look pissed now. She looked . . . like Emma. Eyes sparkling with some secret joke, the girl you’d see across a room and want to meet. I tried to ignore the part of me that just wanted to grab her and throw her on the hood of my car. Dude, focus. You and Emma: not even together anymore.
“I was hoping I’d catch you. I wasn’t sure if you were staying after, or if you’d left early for work . . .” Emma smiled slightly, almost like she was shy of me.
Jeez, did she know how hot that was? I couldn’t figure Emma out on good days. Emma today: might as well have been in Japanese. Was she trying to get something out of me too? Or did she just feel as awkward as I did, like we’d never met, never dated, never . . . dude, focus.
“Yeah, no,” I choked out, barely keeping my voice from breaking like some pimply thirteen-year-old. My cheeks went hot. Like Emma could see what I’d been thinking about? Get it together, Bonham. “I’m not scheduled for the rest of the week.” Actually, Jim’s text had implied I might not be scheduled for the rest of ever if this didn’t blow over.
“That’s cool.” Emma looked at the ground. She was pushing her feet up and down in some kind of ballet move. “I’m glad I didn’t miss you.”
“Why?”
Emma smirked.
“I wanted to talk to you, obviously. About last night.”
“Oh. About that . . .” I searched for the right words. How could I explain how surreal things had felt in that moment, like the volume had been turned up too loud and my whole body was made of nerves? Would that sound like I was making excuses, or—
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“What? Why?”
Emma rolled her eyes and bent a little farther over her feet.
“I wasn’t really mad at you, and I wasn’t very understanding, I guess. Of how weird this must be, I mean.”
“No, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, why are you sorry? I was the one acting like a jerk.”
Emma looked up at me, eyes grateful.
“We can both be sorry, then. Or we can both be jerks.”
“Okay.” I wondered what had changed her mind since lunch. I almost asked, but it felt too lucky that this was even happening; I didn’t want to mess it up.
“Anyway, if you’re not doing anything tonight, it’s just me and Nathan holding down the fort. Surprise, surprise.” Emma rolled her eyes.
“I would, but I think my mom wants me home. She called during Creati— um, during fifth hour.” References to Rachel: possibly still land-mined. Besides, I didn’t want to tell Emma about our encounter after class. It felt unfinished. “She was kinda freaking out. Which makes sense. I’m still kinda freaking out.”
Emma laughed.
“That’s cool. Maybe call me later, then.”
“Yeah, for sure.”