Broken Compass

By then West has taken a seat and pulled out his books, arranging his pens beside them in a neat row. He’s thinking. I can see it in the tense line of his mouth. The neatness of his desk is just normal West.

I take my seat beside him and dump my book and notebook on my desk, then fish around inside my bag for a pen.

Eventually I snag one from West’s desk just as the teacher walks in. “Did you read the chapter we were supposed to read?”

I’m not particularly good at literature. And I was too preoccupied with Nate’s visitor to focus on studying this morning.

“Nate told me his dad has been looking for a roommate,” he says instead.

A stare at him. “You’re kidding me.” But West still looks thoughtful. “You’re serious. Where are they going to put him?”

“They have an extra room. And they need the money.”

“I see.” I try to ignore the hurt deep inside at the knowledge that Nate told West all this and mentioned none of it to me. Then again, they’ve known each other longer. “Maybe I should get a roommate, too.”

He shoots me a narrow look. “Money problems?”

“No, I just thought…” I shake my head. “Ah, never mind. Stupid idea.”

“What did you think? Tell me.”

I’m so tempted to do just that. But of course I can’t. “Nothing. Mom wouldn’t like the idea of a roommate anyway.”

I think.

What I really thought, though, was that if I had a roommate, then maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely.

“Catching the bus, Smalls?” Nate asks from behind me.

“Whoa.” Hand pressed dramatically to my chest, I spin around to face him. “Almost gave me a heart attack.”

He grins, honey-colored eyes crinkling at the corners, a dimple flashing in his cheek. His hair flops over his forehead, and he reaches up to push it back, mouthwatering biceps flexing. “So?”

“So what?” I mutter, then realize I’m still staring at his biceps and look hastily away. “Oh, um, right. I think I’ll walk.”

“Then I’ll walk with you.”

I shrug, pretending not to care, though I’m so very grateful for his presence. See, there’s a group of boys who like picking on me, cornering me—Theo and his gang—and they haven’t bothered me ever since Nate and West took me under their wing.

Truth is, I don’t know why they did—take me under their wing, that is. I steal glances at Nate as we walk out of the school gate and turn right down the road, in the general direction of our neighborhood.

He’s as tall as West, but he easily matches my pace, shuffling his long legs to slow his strides.

As we cross the street, he grabs my backpack and slings it over his shoulder. “Too heavy for you,” he says simply, and I nod, without speaking, not trusting my voice, my eyes suddenly hot.

Where West is intense and often lost in thought, Nate pays attention, checks to make sure we’re on the same page with every step we take. He’s so nice to me, and it’s dangerous because I crave that. The thought that someone cares about me.

No idea what I’d have done if not for the both of them. They don’t know it, probably wouldn’t care if they did, but they saved me. In so many ways.

But they don’t owe me, I need to remember that. I’m the one who owes them.

It should bother me. It does bother me.

Pressing my mouth into a tight line, I regret letting him help me with my backpack, owing him yet another debt, and I hate that he reminded me of it.

Not that I could hate Nate. God, no way. If anything, I…

Know what? No. Not going there. I look down as I put one foot in front of the other, staring at my dusty converse and trying to keep my thoughts on st