“Knights on three,” I say. “One, two…”
“Knights!”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Lacey
You can do this. It’s no big deal. You’re just being polite. It would be weirder if you didn’t go over there and talk to him.
These are the things I tell myself as I stare at Vaughn and his locker and try to make my feet walk over to him. Someone bumps into me from behind, and the momentum gets me going at last. My heart races, and my head screams to go back.
“Hey,” I say, stopping next to his locker.
I heard through the grapevine he’s leaving today after school for some showcase in Detroit.
On top of my books, I have a protein bar with a bow on top, but I’m not sure if I’m going to give it to him, so I clutch my books to my chest where he can’t see the gift. It’s still weird being around him, but I don’t want it to be. And I can’t decide if giving him a present makes it more or less awkward. “Good luck this weekend.”
“Thanks.” He shuts his locker, removing the small barrier between us and angles his body toward me. “Last game of the season tomorrow night?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You’re going to miss all the homecomingfestivities.”
The football game is Friday night, and the dance is Saturday. Not that I expect he would have gone to either anyway. And if he had, he probably would have given it his typical half-hearted,don’t really want to be hereattitude.
Vaughn smiles, one of the rare kinds that meets his eyes. I fidget in front of him. I nearly reach for the protein bar but talk myself out of it.
“Anyway, I just wanted to say good luck,” I say instead. “I know you’ll crush it.”
His smile falters slightly before he nods. “Thanks, Lacey.”
I back away from him slowly, then swivel around and head off to class.
For the next few hours I replay the interaction, wishing I had said or done something else. I hate this. Playing cool and acting like I don’t care is just not me. I should have given him the gift. Who cares if he knows I still like him? I think that’s pretty obvious by the way I’m mostly avoiding him.
After lunch, I grab Rowan.
“Do you know Vaughn’s locker combination?” I ask.
His brows lift and he lets out a small laugh. “No. Why would I know that?”
Ignoring his question, I ask another, “Can you still pick a lock?”
He doesn’t laugh again, but he regards me with a healthy dose of amused skepticism. “What are you up to, Lacey-babe?”
“Can you or not?” I whisper as people pass us by. In eighth grade Rowan picked the lock of our Physical Education teacher’s office so we could fill it with balloonsas a fun prank. Luckily, no one ever asked for details on how we pulled it off.
“I don’t know. It isn’t a skill I’ve practiced very often since middle school.”
I must look as impatient as I feel, because he scans the hallway in each direction and then moves over to Vaughn’s locker. He grabs the lock and leans down to put his ear close to the dial.
“Yeah, I think I probably can,” he says.
“I’ll be lookout.” Vaughn has Lit this period in the east building, so we should be safe.
The hallways clear quickly. I don’t know how much time passes by before I glance back at Rowan. “How much longer?”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” he says in a distracted, offhand way that has me sweating. What if Vaughn decides to stop back by his locker today? What if he forgot something? What if someone else notices Rowan breaking into his locker?
My body pulses with nervous energy. “Oh my god. Hurry.”
