“Speaking of background stories,” Will Marshall says, with a glint in his eyes, “what’s this I hear about you going with Evie to her formal, Kennedy?”
The air is sucked out of the classroom. Everyone falls silent, and she looks at me, startled.
“Alicia Brown is telling everyone,” Will continues. “She said you told her at the party.”
That’s not what I said.
My stomach churns as I look apologetically at Evie, who seems hit by a jolt of electricity as Oliver stretches his arm along the back of her chair.
“Alicia thinks you made it up,” Will says. Everyone laughs, but the only one I care about is Evie, who is staring at me, trying to work out what’s happening.
“I thought you only socialized with your mum!” Lachie Bowen jokes, and this one statement pushes every last button. Nobody knows about Mum’s illness here except the teachers. The unexpected mention of her strikes me hard in the chest and the composure I’ve held so tightly cracks. I reach for the lens cap and my camera, but my hand is shaking and I can’t quite get the two to align.
Eyes bore into me. Including Evie’s.Do not fall apart in front of her!
There’s a disconcerting moment where we lock gazes—worlds, really—and I feel completely, horrendously exposed. It’s freefall. Something shifts between us as if she’s caught a private glimpse into the life I’ve kept so meticulously hidden from everyone else’s view.
“Alicia is wrong,” she explains calmly, without breaking eye contact.
I should never have let Alicia get that idea. Where else did I think this would end up but here?
“He didn’t make it up,” she adds, while I look at her, confused. “Drew and Iaregoing to the formal together.”
Thismakes no sense. The girl couldn’t be more obsessed with Oliver, whose mouth opens and shuts, before he looks back at me too, eyes narrowing.
Magically, all the sniggering stops. The pounding in my head eases. The noise and panic and some of the pain just evaporates. Even Oliver and his testosterone-fueled territory marking fades from view.
I don’t know how this happened, or why, and if it will work out. All I know, right this minute, is that I’m aware of no one else in the room but me and my rescuer.
17
Evie
All friends have an origin story. I suspect for Drew Kennedy and me, it will be rescuing him from the formal date fiasco.
I don’t even really know what compelled me to do it. Every conscious thought was sayingOliver, and then I saw a flicker of dejection in Drew’s eyes and instinct took over. He looked haunted. I had an overwhelming sense, right that second, that this couldn’t go wrong for him. That it would be too many wrongs for him.
We’re practicing manual focus and I’m working with the late-afternoon sunlight as it streams through an archway when Drew catches up to me. I might not know much about photography, but I do seem to have a natural eye for light. The softness here contrasts with the sharp lines and angles of the red-brick architecture.
“Let me explain.” He still looks tormented, which adds to the whole Heathcliff vibe. Not the villainous, vengeful, revenge-fueled stuff—just the untamed moodiness and unpredictability.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. I’m not sure that itisactually fine, but I’m committed now.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says. “It was a conversationwith Alicia that got out of control. I never actuallysaidI was going with you. I just … looked in your direction.”
He’s so sincere. Giving me an out, despite the embarrassment it would cause him. Behind the weariness in his eyes, there’s something intriguingly dark.
“We’ll go as friends,” I tell him, to make it clear. “Think of it as a thank-you for making the exhibition happen.”
He shrugs, like that’s nothing, but I suspect life was complex enough before my bright idea added to his load. “They need shaking up,” he says, with a nod toward the bulk of the group, messing around across the quad.
I focus my camera on a nearby magnolia and launch into my disastrous formal backstory. “I went to the Year Ten formal with my friend’s brother, who I’d never met, and it was so awkward we barely spoke all night. To be fair, this guy’s mother forced him to go with me because he spent too much time playingCall of Duty. She was worried he’d become completely nocturnal and celibate—while living at home until he was forty.”
When I look from my viewfinder back at Drew, he seems slightly stunned.
Too much information?I always talk a lot when I’m nervous. I don’t know why I’m nervous with Drew when it’s Oliver who actually freaks me out. I’m keenly aware of where he is, in the group across the quad.
“I missed our Year Ten formal altogether,” Drew says, saving me from myself. I’m about to ask why, but he follows my line of sight and says, “You sure you wouldn’t rather go with someone else?”
