Her classmates twisted in their seats. The newcomer clearly wanted no part of the attention, because he hunched over his notebook, his pencil poised above a fresh page, as if begging Mrs. Hayes to move on.
Aubrey drummed her fingers against her desk. Huh. Henderson rarely got new students, and never so close to year’s end. This one was doing his best to meld with his seat, but his slouch couldn’t disguise his ranginess.
A thicket of black curls obscured his face, so her focus strayed to his wrists. The frayed cuffs of his olive green sweatshirt fell short, the garment at least two sizes too small, and his wristbones jutted as if trying to lance through his skin. His hands were similarly devoid of fat, long-fingered and knobby-knuckled.
She frowned. Either he went hungry at home, or he had the metabolism of a nuclear reactor.
Her gaze slid upward again. A flash of glistening black eyes met hers before the boy retreated behind his hair.
“Hi,” she whispered. “I’m Aubrey. It’s nice to meet you.”
He gave no indication of having heard. Up front, Mrs. Hayes launched into a diatribe about Emily Bronte’s commentary on passion and obsession, and eventually, Aubrey shrugged and returned to her puzzle book. Clearly, the new kid wasn’t the friendly type.
Which suited her fine. By summer’s end, Henderson would be in her rearview mirror, and this silent boy and his bony hands with it.
After class, Gallant caught up to Aubrey in the hallway.
He walked backward in front of her, matching her pace. “Hey, MacLean, looking good. That uniform does you all kinds of favors. You should wear it more often.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wear it every Wednesday, Gallant. Just like every other cheerleader in school.”
“Which officially makes Wednesday my favorite day of the week.” He snapped his gum and grinned. “Hey, so you wanna skip next period? We could head out to the quarry, maybe—”
“I’ve got calculus.” She tried to step around him, but he adjusted his trajectory to move with her. “Which I never skip. Not even for someone as charming as you.”
If he picked up on her sarcasm, he gave no indication, and she suspected her insult had gone entirely unappreciated. Pity. With his bronze hair and luminous blue eyes, Gallant pretty much did whatever he wanted and had long ago gotten used to hearingyes.
But Aubrey had always found something... empty about him. As if no amount of lavished attention could ever satisfy. Gallant Nobel was like a hole in the ground—no matter how much water you poured in, you could never fill it up.
“C’mon. Who cares about math when—” Gallant stumbled, then righted himself with a huff. He’d backed into someone who stood unmoving in the middle of the hallway.
It was the new kid, scribbling in a notebook. He turned slowly, as if annoyed by the fact that his failure to move had almost bowled someone over.
A thread of curiosity tugged at Aubrey’s insides. Despite thecurls falling into his eyes, he couldn’t hide from her here, and she seized the opportunity to scan his face. Like his hands, his features were prominent, his cheeks hollowed beneath their bladed arches almost to the point of gauntness. That, along with his squared chin and flinty dark eyes, gave him an austere beauty, a stark sort of allure that reminded her of a doomed hero in a postapocalyptic tragedy.
Gallant brushed off his letterman jacket with contrived concern. “Yo, new guy. Watch where you’re going.”
The boy said nothing.
“Hey.” Gallant waved a hand in front of the kid’s face. “You hearing me?”
The boy stared, flat, and a thought occurred. Maybe he hadn’t actually meant to ignore her in English. Maybe he hadn’t answered her because hecouldn’t. Maybe he was writing things down in the middle of the hallway because that was his only method of communication.
She tugged at Gallant’s sleeve. “Hey, don’t be rude. I’m not sure he actually speaks.”
Thatgot a reaction. The boy’s attention slid to her, his expression withering.
“I speak,” he said, each word weighted with condescension. Then, to Gallant, “Andyouwalked intome.”
Gallant’s expression darkened. He stood eye to eye with the kid, but had a forty-pound advantage, at least. “Hey, man. You were inmyway. Just say sorry. That’s all I ask.”
The boy’s lips thinned. His entire being seemed to compress inward.
Aubrey’s heart ground out a sympathetic beat. Gallant Nobel—captain of the football team, homecoming king, Mister Popularity—could probably break this twiggy newcomer in half with hardly any effort. No wonder the guy looked scared.
“Hey.” She pulled at Gallant’s arm. She had no desire to watch the new kid get beaten up in the hallway. Or at all. “Do you still wanna skip?” Words motored from her mouth. Anything to wrench his attention away. “I don’t know about the quarry, but if you wanted to see a movie...”
Thankfully, Gallant let himself be dragged away. When Aubrey glanced back, the new kid stared down at his hands, as if wondering which finger Gallant would have broken first.
