Surprised, I glance up to catch sincerity in her dark eyes. “That’s it?”
“Everyone thinks Scott swooped in and saved you. Daddy and the other guys that responded that night let that rumor stand. ” Her forehead crinkles. “It’s what happened, right? You’ve been living with Scott?”
I scratch my cheek, trying to hide whatever reaction she might see. I could lie and tell her yes, but that would be like I’m embarrassed about Mom. And I’m not embarrassed. I love her. I owe her. Yet there are times…
“I cried for three months when you left,”
Lacy continues. “You were my best friend. ”
I cried too. A lot. Thanks to me and my stupid decisions, I cost my mom everything and I lost my best friend. Typical me—a hurricane that leaves nothing but destruction.
“Go sit with your friends, Lacy. I’m bad news. ”
“In this classroom, those two guys sitting over there are the only real friends I have. ”
Lacy drums her fingers once more. “And you. ”
I raise an eyebrow. “Your life must suck then. ”
She laughs. “Not really. It’s a good life. ”
The teacher calls the class to order and I inch my seat away from Lacy’s. An unseen, uncomfortable vise tightens my chest.
Normal people don’t like me. They don’t want to be my friend, and here is someone offering friendship willingly.
As the teacher calls attendance, Ryan’s name is read and he answers with a deep, soothing,
“Here. ”
Taking a chance, I peek in his direction and find him staring at me again. No smile. No anger. No cockiness. Just a thoughtful expression mixed with confusion. He scratches the back of his head and I’m drawn to his biceps. My traitorous stomach flutters. God, the boy may be an ass, but he sure is built.
And guys like him don’t go for girls like me.
They only use me.
I force my eyes to the front of class, pull my knees to my chest, and wrap my arms around them. Lacy invades my space and whispers to me, “I’m glad you’re back, Beth. ”
A sliver of hope sneaks past my walls and I slam every opening shut. Emotion is evil.
People who make me feel are worse. I take comfort in the stone inside of me. If I don’t feel, I don’t hurt.
Ryan
WAITING ON SUNDAY DINNER, I can observe a lot from my seat on the couch in the living room of the mayor’s house. For instance, the serious set of Dad’s mouth and the angle of his body toward Mr. Crane suggests that Dad’s talking business. Serious business. Mom, on the other hand, is laughter and giggles as she stands next to the mayor’s wife and the
pastor’s wife, but the way she fingers her pearls tells me she’s anxious. That means someone asked a question about Mark.
Mom misses him. So do I.
The power of observation. It’s a skill I need to play ball. Is the runner on base going to chance a steal? Is the batter going to hit the ball out of the park or is he going to hit a sacrifice fly in order to score the runner on third? Is Skater Girl the hard-nosed chick I believe her to be?
For the last two weeks, I’ve watched Beth roam the school. She’s interesting. Nothing like the girls I know. She sits by herself at lunch and eats a full meal. Not salad. Not an apple. A full meal. Like an entrée, two sides, and a dessert. Even Lacy doesn’t do that.
Beth sits in the back of every class, except for Health/Gym, where Lacy patiently makes small talk even though Beth stays quiet.
Sometimes Lacy can get Beth to crack a smile, but it’s rare. I like it when she smiles.
Not that I care if she’s happy or anything.