“No.” I shook my head. “I totally understand that people do bad things. But that doesn’t make them bad. I think that most people want to be good, it’s just hard sometimes in this world. In the end, everyone just wants to be accepted and happy and known.”
I could see from the look in his eye that he wasn’t quite buying it, but I’d been completely honest in my answer. He just needed an example to get my meaning.
“Here, let me show you.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of the gymnasium. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull away, didn’t put up a fight. He allowed me to lead him to the open gym door and stood by my side as we peered in on a freshman class doing stretching exercises.
“See that kid?” I pointed to a guy sitting on the bleachers. He had red hair, black wire rim glasses, and a smattering of freckles across his face. “That’s Alex. Last semester he was failing Algebra 2. Couldn’t stay awake in class. Everyone probably would’ve just called him lazy, but I know for a fact that he works a shift every day after school at the grocery store. His dad left last year and he’s got two younger siblings. He likes to help out with the bills.”
“Let me guess, you tutored him during your massive amounts of free time?” Mason turned toward me with a raised eyebrow. There was a challenge in his eyes, mixed with a bit of a smirk.
“Yep.” I shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. “And see that kid touching his toes near half court?” I pointed to a freshman wearing a black Marvel t-shirt and baggy shorts. “He knows every Tolkien book by heart and has three dogs he’s rescued from a kill shelter. He also happens to be the kid you saved in a fight on Monday.”
Mason eyed me, surprise lighting up his face. “You saw that?”
“Yeah, I might have.” I leaned against the frame of the door, shooting him a smile. “It was pretty impressive.”
“I don’t think that qualified as impressive. Climbing Mount Everest is impressive. Stopping a high school fight is just boring vanilla.”
“Maybe, but I’m sticking to my guns. You, Mason Finnick, have potential.”
He harrumphed and leaned against the opposite door frame, but his gaze never left my face. He was studying me, thoughts stirring in his dark blue eyes. The bold attention made my stomach dip and my face heat. Yet again, Mason left me feeling like I’d done something extremely embarrassing. Like I’d bared my soul in front of him, although I was just trying to connect. Suddenly, I was very antsy to get back to class and return to my abandoned laptop.
“Maybe we should get back to the library,” I began, taking a hesitant step.
“Wait, now that I get where all of this is coming from, I’ve got one last question for you, Mother Trina,” he said, his lips pursing. He was still looking at me, as if I were a science experiment beneath a microscope. “If your junk pile is so important to you, why don’t you just go back to your art class?”
I sighed. He didn’t know how much I wished I could. “Because, believe it or not, this Research Methods class is super important to my parents. And my parents just want what’s best for me. If that’s what it takes to make them happy, then I’ll do it.”
He squinted at the floor and sucked in his cheeks, emotion swirling in his eyes. “Actually, I get that. I really do.”
“Yeah?” It was the first time he’d ever offered up anything about himself. Part of me was scared to pursue it. He might bolt like a frightened rabbit. “Does your mom act like that, too?”
“All the time.” He rubbed a hand across his chest and chuckled dryly. “I think she thinks I’m going to break. That she’s going to lose me. But I can’t be mad about it. We’ve had a rough few years and I’m all that she has in the world.”
I nodded and silence fell between us. For the first time all day, I didn’t feel the need to fill it. Instead, as we returned to the library and walked in on a sleeping Mr. Anthony, I stole a few glances at Mason’s stoic expression.
It might have been my imagination, but for a moment there I thought I could hear the cracking of glass or the chipping away of a wall. Mason Finnick was letting me in, I could feel it.
I just had to find out what his happy was — the thing that made him feel seen.
That was the key to getting through to him.
Chapter
Six
“Let me get this straight: we’re here to see a boy?”
Audrey’s eyebrows nearly jumped into her hairline as I dragged her and Mandy into the school gym. It was the first home basketball game since winter break and the bleachers were packed. At the front of the student section, a row of senior boys had painted GO RVH on their bare chests in gold and green paint and were shouting insults at the refs. I went around them and led us up to some open seats a few rows back.
“Yes, Mason is technically a boy,” I said softly, the crowd around us cheering as someone on the Rock Valley High team made two points. “He’s in my Research Methods class. I just want to be here to support him, that’s all.”
Technically a boy.
Yeah, right.
Mason didn’t look like the other boys in high school. He had rippling muscles and a strong jawline that gave him the appearance of a college athlete. I was pretty sure half the girls in the stands around us were only here to ogle him as he ran down the court. And sure enough, when I spotted him rebounding a ball, all I could do was drool a little as his muscular legs moved him swiftly toward our basket to sink a two-pointer.
“Wait — that’s him?” Mandy stared at the court, her eyes bugging. “He’s in your class? How do you sit across from that and get anything done?”