Nev looks up, snot and tears marbling her skin.
“Do we have a deal?” I ask.
She nods just as tires squeal outside our door.
Mom stands up. “That must be your dad.”
Nev shrinks into the armchair as Mom goes to open the door.
“When you sent in my application,” I ask, “did you attach a personal note? Something with your name on it?”
“No!” She shakes her head wildly. “I just uploaded a screenshot of the signed form and the copy of the recording you sent me.”
“So Mona has no idea who I am?”
She shakes her head again.
My mom and her dad are still outside. Mom is probably trying to calm Jeff.
“I have an extra demand.” I tap my index finger against Nev’s knee. “I have to sing my song in front of cameras and Mona on Saturday, and I want you to come with me.”
Nev blinks and blinks, and then she nods and nods.
And even though she’s about to get into a heap of trouble, happiness streaks her face.
Her expression confirms my suspicion that she used me to reach her mother. She couldn’t have known I would win, but hope convinces people the most insane outcome can come true.
At least now Nev will get some answers, and answers are better than questions, even if those answers might dash all of her hopes.
56
Inflatable Hearts
When I enter the cafeteria at lunch the following day, my peers stand and clap so energetically the palm trees sway. I’m desperate for everyone to stop congratulating me, because each show of support nips away at my stoicism.
Ten didn’t come to school today, and I’m glad, because witnessing everyone’s enthusiasm would just hurt him, but I’m also worried. Worried he believes I made Nev take the blame.
At the end of the school day, I feel as though I’ve been teleported to Jupiter, where everything weighs two and a half times more. The last bell can’t come soon enough. I can’t focus on anything our geography teacher is saying. I just sit there, slumped in my chair, chewing on the end of my pen.
The PA system crackles. “Angela Conrad, please come to the principal’s office.”
Normally, I would blush at my name being called out, but I don’t care anymore. I drag myself out of my chair and plod through the aisle of desks toward the door. I bet Principal Larue wants to discuss my slipping grade point average.
As I step out of the classroom, my heel hits something slippery that makes me skid. Instinctively, I reach out and steady myself against the wall, then look down, and my forehead furrows when I notice what mademe slip—rose petals. And they aren’t just in front of the classroom door. There’s a trail of them that leads up the staircase of our basement classroom. Is this Mrs. Larue’s doing? If it is, it’s a little weird… even for her.
I follow the petals up the stairs and then through the door and into the main hallway. More rose petals are strewn over the linoleum, but they don’t lead anywhere near our principal’s office.
What if the petals aren’t for me?
I freeze and am about to double back when I catch where the trail leads: my locker. Legs feeling like damp cotton, I walk up to it and open the metal door with a clank. Petals rain down over my boots, along with a folded note.
MEET ME WHERE YOU ASKED ME TO HOMECOMING.
I read and reread the note. I never asked—
Fighting off a smile, I shake my head, and then I run out the door and round the walls of red bricks toward the bleachers. I slow down when I spot the lone figure standing there.
For a moment, I watch Ten and he watches me.
