At her whisper, I look up to find her twisted in her seat to face me.
“I just wanted to—”
“MissEverest.”
She cringes, then slowly turns toward the teacher.
“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume this is the last time you will be disrupting the class today.”
With a grumble, I don’t bother to pay attention to her response. Mr. Lancer picks up the lesson where he left off, and I take notes, trying to ignore the girl when she shifts in her seat. But then she shifts again. And again. By the fourth time, a growl catches in my throat. My pen freezes, and I pin my glare on her back.
She’s folded one leg under her, and she’s leaning back. She lazily braids and unbraids her hair, over and over, as she gazes out the window. Like she’s at some spa waiting on her masseuse instead of in a classroom with a little thing likelearningto focus on. The clock ticks, and she traces invisible pictures on the floor with her pointed bare foot. A muscle in my jaw twitches as I watch the circular patterns, taking in the pink, blue, green, and whatever-the-hell-else she put on her toenails.
Blue and yellow woven pieces of thread dangle from around her ankle. I suppress another grumble. Who wears jewelry on their ankles?
When I first spotted her through the window yesterday, I figured she was another one of Kimmie’s friends. That was reason enough for her blatant staring to get on my nerves. But now, seeing her up close, watching her—there’s no way they’re in the same crowd.
Shaking my head as if I can shake her out of it, I concentrate on Mr. Lancer’s lesson and scribble down whatever I can. I’ve worked so damn hard to get where I am now. Just a few more months till I graduate ... Releasing a breath, I write. And I write. And I write.
Just a few more months.
I keep my eyes on my schoolwork for the rest of class, then grab my stuff, exit the classroom, and stop at my locker.
“Hey! Hunt.”
I look over my shoulder. Mr. Everest’s daughter, Kimmie, is hurrying toward me just as I push my locker shut.
“Hey,” I mumble, pulling my backpack over one shoulder and heading to chem. I’m tempted to ignore her like I do everyone else. It’s way easier. But sometimes I feel like I owe it to Mr. Everest to not be an ass to his only daughter. I might not have had a roof over my head this past year if it wasn’t for him.
Kimmie skips to keep up with my strides. “Do you need another ride today? I mean, Cory wants to hang out, but I told him I’ll be giving you a lift firs—”
I shake my head right as we reach my class. “Nah, thanks. Fixed the truck last night, so I’m good.”
I’m reaching for the knob when she mutters, “Oh. Um, okay.” Disappointment drips off every syllable.
In another life, at my old school, I would’ve taken advantage of her interest without a second thought. But I’m not the same person I was then.
Pulling the door open, I’m ready to leave her in the hall. Until her dad’s face flashes in my mind, andshit. There’s the guilt. I stop. Close my eyes. Then turn and face her. Kimmie’s entire face lights up, just like that.
So ... maybe I’m good to go?
But then her face falls when I say nothing, and I let out a sigh. “Look, Kimmie ...”
She grins before running her tongue across her lower lip. “Yeah?”
Right when I open my mouth again, I spot Mac over Kimmie’s shoulder, lingering in the stairwell with a hoodie over his head. My fist clenches at my side as he and I make eye contact.
“Hunt?” Kimmie’s fingers brush the bottom of my shirt, but I hardly hear her.
“Uh, yeah,” I mumble, still watching Mac. I pat her arm twice. “Have fun with Cory.” I’m walking toward Mac before the words are out of my mouth.
He backs away when I reach him, holding his hands up when I don’t stop advancing. “Hey, hey,” he says. “Calm down, man.”
The bell rings, and I inwardly curse. Late for two classes in one day. Not exactly how today was supposed to go. I scan the hall behind me. It’s clear.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I growl.
Mac’s eighteen like me, but unlike me, he wasn’t held back a year. He dropped out before they offered him the chance. If Principal Lori saw me chatting with him, she’d string me up by the hair on the back of my neck instead of giving me the scholarship I’m working my ass off for.
