“What are you—“
I clap my hand over his mouth, which is both a mistake (because now I’m touching his lips) and absolutely necessary (because his voice carries like a foghorn in these mountain acoustics).
“Queen Bee scouts at two o’clock,” I say, crouching so low my knees touch my chest. “Just stay down until they pass.”
Peering through the truck’s dirty windows, I watch as Meg and Zoey saunter by, diet Cokes in hand, completely oblivious to our hiding spot.
Phew!Crisis averted.
“Just so we’re clear,” Theo’s voice reaches me from behind, “I don’t care what Paige, or anyone else thinks.”
Without looking back, I say, “But I do. Just in case you haven’t noticed, she can make my life pretty miserable.”
Theo appears at my side again. “Don’t let her get to you. No one has power over you unless you allow them.”
If only it were that simple. Sometimes it’s not up to me, and he doesn’t know what it’s like to be someone’s punching bag. He’s not the one who ends up with signs taped to his back.
“Don’t follow me,” I snap, and then take off toward school at a sprint.
I glance over my shoulder. Theo’s actually keeping his distance—about twenty feet behind me. For once, he listened.
With the mountainous scenery behind him, he looks like some ridiculously handsome hiking advertisement as he strolls with his hands tucked in his pockets, the wind blowing his wavy hair across his face.
His eyes catch mine, and I whip my head forward. The maple leaves above us rustle in the morning breeze. Any other day, I might appreciate the beauty. Today, I’m just grateful no one from school has spotted us yet.
“So is this going to be our daily routine?” Theo calls from behind. “You running away from me like I might infect you with popularity?”
I pick up my pace, pretending not to hear him. The school building is visible now. Why is he still talking to me?
“You know,” he raises his voice, “you’re giving people like Paige way too much power over you!”
A couple walking their dog turns to look. Great. Now we have an audience.
“Seriously, who cares what they think?” he shouts, even louder.
I spin around and walk backward. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of not caring. Us unpopular folk have to fend for ourselves, and that means flying under the radar.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but I’ve already turned around. My boots stomp the ground as I pick up pace . . . and halt ten seconds later, leaning forward with palms planted on my knees and panting while Theo casually catches up to me.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he says, extending a bottle of water.
Easy for him to say. His social status comes with an invisible force field that deflects humiliation like it’s nothing.
I snatch the water bottle from his hand and tip it back, gulping down half of it in one go. The cool water soothes my parched throat as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Thirsty much?” Theo chuckles, watching me with that infuriating half-smile.
I catch my breath. Dancing builds stamina for performances, not for running away from Theo with the equivalent of a small library on my back.
We’re getting dangerously close to school now. The brick building looms ahead, and students mill about the front steps like ants around spilled soda. Anxiety stirs within me. If anyonespots us walking together, the rumors would no doubt spread in a matter of minutes.
“Seriously, we need to split up.” I thrust the half-empty water bottle to his chest.
Theo sighs. “Fine. I’ll hang back.”
“And take a different route.” I glance around frantically. “Go around to the side entrance by the gym.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes. “See you later, roomie.”
