Benny peered up at me, his brows furrowed. “Why you getting so after-school-special on me?”
“It’s important.”
He thought about this, then shrugged. “Cool.”
We ate our cake as the sun broke through the gray and glinted against the rusted pickup. Benny started humming “Feeling Good.”
“Since when do you know Nina Simone?” I asked.
He blinked. “Who?”
“The song just now.”
“I don’t know any Nina. I got that from the Jay-Z video.”
“That works, I guess.”
“Tonight’s your last show?” he asked.
“Last Oedipus, yeah.”
“You sad about that?”
“Not really,” I said.
For whatever reason, the memory of Willow Holloway came back to me, when she was standing outside the theater with a program in her hand.
I glanced over at Benny with frosting smeared over one cheek and smiled a little. “It was a good birthday.”
Willow
Monday morning in English class, I sat in the only available seat—in the back row next to Isaac Pearce. He was already in the one I’d taken last week—slouched back, arms crossed, legs sprawled. He looked straight ahead as I came down the aisle and I tried to keep my own gaze restricted to a quick snapshot. Leather jacket, jeans, boots. The hard, angular features of his face no longer godly under stage lights, but no less devastatingly handsome.
I tucked myself into the desk beside him and stashed my backpack under my feet. Isaac’s otherworldly performance had stayed with me all weekend. Taking a seat next to him in something as ordinary as English class felt odd, though I began to see why Isaac saved his words for the stage—he sat in his chair like it could hardly contain him.
He’s too big for this town.
I stole a glance at him and caught him stealing one of me. My heart jumped in my chest. We both looked away and I sat perfectly still until the electric tingle subsided.
Holy shit.
“Hey,” a voice hissed to my left.
I looked around to see Angie hanging over the back of her seat staring at me, amusement in her brown eyes. Her sweatshirt had a graphic of a rhinoceros and said, Chubby unicorns need love too.
“Have we met?” she asked. “You look familiar? Did we hang out last Friday or did I imagine it?”
“Oh, hey,” I said, finding a smile for her. “What’s up?”
She glanced at Mr. Paulson, who was still shuffling through a mountain of paper on his desk, then motioned me closer. We huddled together, whispering, just like I used to do with Michaela and the girls back in New York. Before X crossed them out of my life.
Angie tilted her chin at Isaac behind me. “It’s like sitting next to Kit Harrington, right? Or Brad Pitt circa Legends of the Fall.”
I bit a smile between my teeth and shrugged. “I think I can handle it.”
“You sure about that? You didn’t even remember I existed until a second ago, which normally would have broken my heart.” Her eyes widened and she hunched closer to me, her whisper turning to a hiss. “Are you into him? I keep telling you it’s a lost cause, but maybe not. Maybe he’s into you. You should tell him you saw his show. Tell him you cried.”
“Shh.” I whacked her hand, a jolt of heated embarrassment surging through me. “I didn’t cry.”