“We’re just dropping you off, Savvy,” Retha says from the front seat. “We’re taking a ride out to Cleveland today.”
“For what?” I ask. Even if I did want to skip with them, I wouldn’t go on a day like this. On a day when they hate each other.
Retha glances at Travis and then turns to me. “His dad’s up for parole,” Retha says quietly. “Travis has to appear at the hearing.”
“Oh.” My heart sinks. Travis’s dad is the worst of the worst. No wonder Travis is so messed up right now. Retha’s going with him to make sure he doesn’t get high while he’s there. It wouldn’t be the first time.
The reality of the moment is harsh, and I stare into my lap until we get to school.
When I walk into the classroom, I see Mr. Jimenez standing at the front with his glasses on the podium and rubbing his eyes. Yeah, I don’t blame him. Eight a.m. is definitely too early to socialize.
The bruises on my knuckles have faded to a less dramatic blue, but the scratches on my arms have turned to thin scabs. I’m not feeling my best. And the fact that Travis and Retha aren’t here makes me feel all the more vulnerable.
Cameron is texting at his desk. His hair hangs loose and when he brushes it behind his ear, I roll my eyes at how effortlessly good-looking he is. I almost say hello, but I chicken out and sit down to wait for the bell.
“Morning,” Cameron says as his thumbs slide over the keys. He doesn’t look over, but I know he’s talking to me.
“Hey,” I respond, completely self-conscious. I let down my guard on Friday; I even kissed his cheek. I’m not sure if I want him to acknowledge that or not. I mean, I guess not. That would be awkward. But then again, if he’s already forgotten me or if it wasn’t a big deal . . . I stop myself. I’m seriously overthinking this.
Cameron’s phone buzzes in his hand, and he laughs as he reads the text. He types out another message. I wonder if he’s talking to a girl, and there’s a small stab of jealousy in my chest. Weekends can be long if you’re having fun. He might have met someone. Or, hell. He might have already had someone.
I take out my notebook and set it on my desk, staring at the front of the class and wishing Mr. Jimenez would start teaching. I hate the silence right now. It makes me think too much. I tap my pencil on the cover of my notebook.
“You nervous about something?” Cameron asks.
“No.”
“Why are you tapping, then?”
I stop and fold my hands on my desk.
“Your friends not coming to class today?” Cameron asks. He’s still on his phone. God—why won’t he look at me? He must think I’m pathetic—getting in fights and asking for rides home.
“No,” I tell him. “They’re not.”
“Too bad.”
“Whatever,” I mumble. I’m surprised by how much his texting irritates me.
“Whatever?” he repeats and turns to me. He sounds amused.
I don’t answer. Mr. Jimenez exhales loudly from the front, and I pretend to be interested in what he has to say instead.
“All right,” Mr. Jimenez says. “I know I promised to lecture today, but we’re going to do some writing and cut our day short at twelve. Anyone have a problem with that?”
“Got a hot date, man?” Gris calls, chuckling at his own joke.
“No, Aaron,” Mr. Jimenez responds. “I have jury duty and there are no subs available.”
“Jury duty?” Gris asks. “Anyone we know?”
And I have to laugh at that one. Because it’s quite possible that one of us would know them. It’s not that big of a town.
“Not sure. But I’ll keep you updated,” Mr. Jimenez says sarcastically. “Now, anyone else have an objection?”
The class is silent because who in their right mind would refuse a shortened day of school? Although for me, leaving early isn’t necessarily a great thing. Not only do I not have a ride home; I’ll have more time to spend there. Evan’s bus won’t arrive until three and Retha and Travis won’t be back until tomorrow.
“Hey, Sutton?”
