“No.” I cringe that he could think that. My hat overheats my head. “I wouldn’t do that.”
The angry scent of burning tires soaks the air around us. “You know the crap she’s been through this year?” His muscles tense, and he scoots onto his knees, like he’s about to leave.
“I have a guess, and I am sorry. I have no excuse, except that I was . . .”
“You were what?” He wraps his hands around his head as ifpreparing for a crash, then lets go, and his hands ball into fists.
I swallow hard. “I wasn’t paying attention.” A trickle of sweat inches down my neck. “I’ll fix this. At least, I’ll do everything I can to fix it.”
He scowls. “How are you going to do that?”
I take a deep breath then explain about the PUF and why I need to go to Meyer. A large cloud of apple scab—one of the thirteen notes of horror—rushes at me, but I press on. “I just need you to keep her from coming to school, long enough for me to make the PUF. Maybe you could pick out her library books for her, or—”
“I don’t believe this.” His expression is too carefully neutral. “I mean, I thought it was cool you liked to garden, but this is seriously screwed up.” He gets to his feet and hikes up his backpack.
He can’t leave, and especially not smelling of rage. I jump to my feet. “I know, it’s screwed up. But please don’t go yet.” Please see reason. “I’m only asking for a few days. Does she like movies? Maybe you can take her to a movie?” I sound desperate. He glances at my hands, stretched in the space between us, and I quickly clasp them together.
A gust of frustration blows from his lips. “What gives you the right to play with people’s lives?”
“We don’t play with their lives, we try to make them . . . happy.” I wilt under his gaze, feeling the loose threads of our friendship untie. I had no right to expect his help anyway. “I’m sorry.”
ELEVEN
“LOVE IS REVEALED THROUGH SACRIFICE.”
—Shayla, Aromateur, 1633
AT LEAST Ilearned one thing today in school. It’s not possible to die of mortification. After the final bell rings, I numbly haul books out of my locker even though I won’t have time to study.
“Hey, Nose!” Kali floats like a neon-hoodied lifesaver toward me. The sight of my best friend’s smiling face, like aloe vera, instantly takes some of the burn out of my misery. Sometimes one friend is just enough.
“You’re not going to believe what happened,” I tell her.
“I believed it when you said you’d never eaten a Dorito.”
As we tread toward the library, I fill her in.
A string of painted metal benches run along one side of the courtyard. Vicky and her posse perch atop one with their feet on the seat. They’re engulfed in a cloud of perfumed beauty products.
The girls go quiet, and as we approach, Vicky smirks. Kalislows and the sour sap scent of fear mingles with the burnt tires of her anger. I grab the crook of her arm and hurry her along.
“She’s been giving me those snooty looks all day,” Kali mutters.
“I can fix that.”
Kali’s eyes snap to mine. “You’re not still thinking about fixing her with Drew?”
“Leave the guilt to me.”
“Seems like you have more than you can handle right now.” When I don’t answer, she pokes me with her elbow. “I’m serious. Don’t do it. Just worry about Alice. Want me to ask Mukmuk if he’ll drive you to that garden?”
“Will he tell your parents?”
“Maybe. He’s such a choir boy.”
Even though Kali’s brother is usually reliable, the Apulus are friendly with Mother. I can’t risk a leak. “Thanks, but that’s okay. I’ll take the train.” Assuming I’m not in Oman.
“You need me to come?”
