“High,” Gris repeats with a laugh. Nobody joins him. We’re all too tired.
Mr. Jimenez shakes his head in disappointment. “Okay. Let’s get out our math workbooks and turn to page ninety-seven. I’ll save the lecture.”
Poor guy. I almost want to learn something just to give him a reason to live. Brooks Academy is like teacher purgatory—a world between college and a real gig. That is why most of the staff is made up of twenty-somethings with a save-the-world complex. But they all burn out eventually and it seems Mr. Jimenez is well on his way.
The class door opens, and Cameron walks in. I smile before I realize what I’m doing, and I stop before anyone can notice. Cameron has his blond hair pulled back tight and a crisp white T-shirt straining around his biceps. He watches the floor as he makes his way to his desk.
“Now we’re really shooting for the stars,” Mr. Jimenez says. “Even Cameron came to class today.”
Cameron sits in the desk next to me, not acknowledging our teacher, and takes out a notebook. I watch him, but then I notice Lucinda leaning out of her seat to stare at him. I narrow my eyes at her until she turns around.
“Page ninety-seven?” Mr. Jimenez repeats for all of us.
Oh, right. Math.
I take out my workbook and flip through the completed pages until I notice Cameron staring down at his desk.
“Hey,” I whisper. He looks sideways at me. “Math workbook.”
Cameron slowly lifts his gaze, and when his eyes meet mine, it’s like an electric shock to my system. My heart begins to race at the intimacy of it. He’s looking at me, but more than that, I feel like heseesme.
“Thanks,” Cameron says, and glances away quickly. I’m left a little breathless as he grabs his book out of his pack.
I hear a giggle from across the room, and turn to find Retha making an obscene gesture with her hand, maybe something to do with a Blow Pop.
“Retha?” Mr. Jimenez calls. “Not really appropriate.”
She apologizes, and I cover my mouth as I laugh. Busted. I glance back at Travis, but he’s passed out. Damn. No one to enjoy the moment with me.
I take out my pencil and begin scanning the math page. The questions are easy. Brooks Academy isn’t college prep; it’s barely remedial.
“How was the rest of your night, Sutton?”
I turn to Cameron. He’s filling in math problems, talking toward his book.
“Good. Yours?”
“Good.”
I blink, waiting to see if he’ll go on, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t look at me again either. Suddenly lonely, I exhale, trying to pull my shit together and settle back against my chair to finish my classwork.
***
Evan’s bus is late. I wait on the porch, looking up and down the street. Dread begins to fill my chest. This isn’t good. It is never good when his bus is late.
I see the bus turn onto my street, and I jump up, relieved. But when it pulls to a stop in front of me, I know something is wrong.
The driver opens the door, and she hurries down the stairs to meet me outside. “I’m sorry, Savannah,” she says quickly. “I couldn’t get him to calm down.”
My face grows hot, and I move past her to climb the steps. I go to where he was sitting the day before but find his seat empty. I can hear him. I hear his harsh breaths and whimpers as I move down the aisle. I find him curled up on the filthy floor under a seat.
The bus driver is next to me. “We were just down the street, and I’m supposed to call the school, but . . . I knew he just wanted you. I thought—”
“Thank you,” I say, squatting down to reach out and brush Evan’s hair.
I hear the boots of the bus driver as she walks away. I’m sure she’s probably worried about getting fired—there are protocols she has to follow. But I’m glad she didn’t follow them. Evan needs me. I need to be here for him.
“Hey, buddy,” I whisper. He’s shaking, and I have to swallow down my fear. “What happened?”
