Vincent frowns, trying to recall it. “No clue what song it is. We’ll check YouTube later.”
I nod, looking out at Sunset District as the bus rolls through. I love this city—the sun, the sea, my walks at Fisherman’s Wharf with Grandma. Next summer Vincent and I will go to Ocean Beach. We’re going to learn to surf, collect shells, see crabs. We’ll make up for the time we lost last year.
“Last night...” Vincent hesitates, then smiles. “Daniel found a box of old CDs in the attic and gave all of them to me. There were Avril Lavigne, Sex Pistols, Beatles, Nirvana, Green Day, Blink-182, Britney Spears, Simple Plan... even Christina Aguilera.”
I gasp. “You’re kidding!”
He laughs. “Cross my heart. You can keep hers.”
I squeal, hugging him. “I’m going to marry you someday, Vincent Cooper!”
“Yeah, sure,” he chuckles. “What about June twenty-first, 2028? At Ocean Beach, maybe. At sunset, it would be more romantic.”
I’m not joking. “Is that a bet?”
The bus screeches to a halt in front of the school but we keep staring at each other. I love his hazel eyes.
“Ten dollars?” he grins.
“Ten dollarsanda donut,” I counter.
“Chocolate.”
“With sprinkles.”
“Deal.”
I spit into my hand and hold it out. Some kids grimace, but Vincent laughs as he spits into his palm too, and shakes mine. Hand in hand, we dash off the bus and toward the school and everyone stares at us, like always.
“Come on, Cooper! We have to be the ones to feed Remy this time. If Carter beats us again, I swear I’ll camp in the classroom overnight!”
Vincent groans, trying to keep up with me while juggling both our backpacks. “Okay, Marshall! Okay! I got it!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nova Marshall
PAST (2012)
"A good player can make any guitar sound good."
Michael Bloomfield
At lunch time, Vincent’s waiting for me in front of the cafeteria entrance with his backpack slung over one shoulder and his usual headphones around his neck. His expression is different than usual. He looks worried.
When I reach him, I take his hand and intertwine our fingers as I open the cafeteria door and walk toward the line of students waiting to buy lunch. We both grab a tray and stand in line.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
He shrugs, avoiding my gaze as he inspects the cartons of chocolate milk on the counter. I sigh and take one for each of us. “What’s going on? If it’s about Remy, you know it doesn’t matter. I’ll feed him next ti—”
Vincent interrupts me. “I’m thinking of changing the last course of the day,” he says, his eyes still doesn’t meet mine as he chooses his lunch.
“What?” I murmur, confused.
After grabbing a hamburger, he lets out a sigh and finally looks at me. “Before French, I went to the bathroom, remember?” he mutters, placing a slice of pizza and a plate of fries on my tray.
“Yes?” I rest a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Whatever he wants to say, it’ll be all right. He’s safe with me. Vincent fixes his hazel eyes on mine, as if trying to tell me everything with just his gaze.
