My foot bounced up and down under my desk as I sat in trig class before the bell, trying to cram in some last-?minute information. I shot a pathetic smile at Constance as she dropped into the seat next to mine.
“Ready for the quiz?” I asked.
'Yeah. So I have a question.“ Her voice was unnaturally high- pitched. She laced her fingers together on her desk as she turned to me. ”Why is Walt Whittaker giving you gifts?"
My stomach turned. This was not what I needed right now.
'You saw that?" I asked, rubbing at a sudden headache that had just sprung up between my eyes.
“No. Missy and Lorna did,” she replied. “I don't believe this. Yesterday I'm pouring my heart out to you about my feelings for him,” she said under her breath. “And the whole time you two have a thing going on. I'm such an idiot.”
“No, Constance. It is so not like that,” I said. “We do not have a thing going on. There is no thing.”
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“Yeah, right,” she said. “Wonder what Thomas would say if he knew about this.”
I swallowed against a dry throat. People around here really did know how to hit a girl where it hurt.
“Nothing. He would say nothing because it's nothing.” I took a deep breath as Constance stared resolutely at the blackboard. Around us our classmates steadily filled in the empty seats. “Look, Whit may have a tiny crush on me, but that's it. And he's gonna get over it really fast because I swear I have no feelings for him.”
How could I when this thing with Thomas was still so unresolved? I thought of Josh's accusation in the cafeteria and my insides squirmed.
But then I realized how all this looked. They had no idea that all I wanted was to see Thomas again so that I could make sure he was all right, so that I could get a little closure. How could I blame them for thinking the worst of me?
Constance sighed and glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. 'You swear?"
“I swear,” I said.
The ramrod-?straight posture she'd been working since beginning her tirade relaxed slightly and she leaned back in her seat. Outside the door I saw our trig professor, Mr. Crandle, chatting with another teacher.
“Listen, if you like him so much, you should talk to him,” I whispered. “Maybe you guys can get together.”
Constance's cheeks turned pink and she looked down at her
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polished nails. Under her desk, she crossed her legs demurely at the ankles.
“He doesn't even know I exist,” she said.
“I doubt that's true. Whit doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd forget an old family friend,” I said.
“Maybe,” Constance said, biting her lip. “I don't know. But what if he doesn't remember me? I'd feel like such a moron.” Suddenly her entire face lit up and she lifted her head. “Wait! Maybe you could talk to him for me. Mention me and see what he says?”
She was too cute. Really. So cute it almost made me want to wrap her up in a pink bow and stick her in a cat carrier.
“Sure,” I told her. “I can do that.”
“Really?” she squealed, reaching over to grab my hand. “That would be so amazing.”
Not really. Because if I talked up Constance to Whittaker and he ended up going for her then it would exponentially benefit me. The Billings Girls might be disappointed that I didn't land the guy who could “give me things,” but they couldn't fault me if he fell for someone else. Plus Whit would be happy, and then I wouldn't have to hang out with him so much and constantly be reminded of those disgusting pictures. I would be able to concentrate on what really mattered--namely, figuring out what to do about Natasha, keeping my ass in school, and finding out how to get to this Legacy thing so I could see Thomas. It was win, win, win, really. For me, Whittaker, and Constance.
“It's not a problem,” I told her, adopting a benevolent smile.
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“Thank you so much.”