“Where is she?” Ten’s voice is low and raspy.
“I—I don’t know.”
“You have your phone?” he asks.
I nod, rushing back over to the bench where I left my tote. I dig my phone out and, fingers shaking from the confrontation, dial Nev’s number. Ten stalks over to me. Like magnets, people’s eyes stick to the knight in moisture-wicking armor.
“She’s not answering.” The apple juice pooled on the tabletop seems to quiver, like my harried pulse.
I’m hoping she had to meet with a teacher before classes resume, but I’m pretty certain she left because I embarrassed her. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek as I text her:Where are you?
Ten looks behind me at Mark the Muncher. “Sam, right?”
“It’s Mark.”
“Mark, where did my sister go?”
“No clue.”
I sling my tote over my shoulder. “What’s her next class?” I ask, not expecting Mark to be familiar with her schedule, but it can’t hurt to ask.
“We have history together.”
“Which classroom?”
“E7. By the gy—”
I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence. I remember where E7 is. I bolt down the hallway, then down a flight of stairs. My chest hurts, my lungs are on fire, and my muscles burn. Unlike Ten, who’s already caught up to me, I wasn’t born to runorto confront people.
We bypass the entrance to the gym, then burst into E7.
33
Ten Facets of Ten
Even though the lights are off in the classroom, the pink puffiness of Nev’s lids and nose are unmistakable. I dig my heels into the floor, afraid to come any closer, afraid my presence will just make her cry more.
She sniffles and looks up.
“I’m sorry,” I say, at the same time as she squeaks, “Ten?”
Ten looks at me. “Why would you be sorry?”
“Did you tell him to come?” Nev scrubs her shiny cheeks.
I shake my head.
Ten waits another second for an answer from me. When none comes, he strides to the back of the room and drops into the chair closest to Nev’s. “Nev, why didn’t you tell me people were being mean to you?”
“Because—” She lets out a sigh that’s as weak as the air wafting through the vent over my head.
I shiver when the air hits my skin.
“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters.
“The fuck it doesn’t!” Ten snaps.
I finally unglue the soles of my boots from the floor and inch toward them. “Please don’t be mad at me, Nev.”
