Page 74 of Yearning Difficulties

I gave her a reassuring nudge in return and cast a glance across the rest of the canteen. I saw Dave with his friends on the other side of the room. He was holding court, loudly blustering about something and gesticulating with his arms. Sterling was listening with open consideration, occasionally piping up with something to add. It looked like she was playing devil’s advocate for whatever Dave was raging about.

Logan Minola sat next to Sterling but not one iota of his attention was fixed on his group. He was staring over at us.

No. Not at us.

At Cherry.

While Claire spoke to Killian and the other boys about History, the girl on my right ate her food and scrolled on her phone with casual oblivion. Cherry was completely unaware of the attention, unaware that the most intimidating person in school was currently studying her.

I remembered everything he’d said in my dad’s car, and how he’d taken her album.

I opened my mouth to say something to her but Logan must have sensed my awareness. He snapped his attention back to Dave, sullenly eating his own lunch and acting as if he’d never once looked our way.

I frowned, taking a long sip of water. I then forced a smile onto my face, turning to Claire. ‘Other than watching me almost getting brained by a horse, did you enjoy the faire?’

When the warning bell sounded, we abandoned our trays and I was about to head to English with Mr Hamilton when Cherry gave me a ‘text me later’ squeeze on the arm. I met her inquisitive gaze and gave an almost imperceptible nod. I was heading for the exit, glad that it was my last class of the day when I felt a timid little tap on my elbow.

I turned to find Claire smiling up at me. ‘Zella, can we have a private word? I have Chemistry right now but I can walk you to English?’

My stomach sank. I had class with Killian now, which was probably why she knew my schedule. I caught sight of him watching us from the table we’d just left. Anderson and Chris were being jocular, clearly closer than ever. I wondered if either of them could see how unhappy Killian was.

‘Sure, Claire,’ I said, giving her an encouraging nod. ‘I need a quick mirror break. Bathroom?’

She smiled gratefully.

When we were in one of the quieter girls’ bathrooms, I stood in front of the wide mirror and started primping, hoping that it would give her the space she needed to open up.

It worked. As I took out my concealer, she started to speak, albeit nervously.

‘Zella. I know you and Killian were together until very recently . . .’

She lost her courage so I met her gaze in the mirror. I offered her a small smile. ‘You like Killian.’

A statement, not a question. She exhaled. ‘Yes.’

I moved to lip gloss. Reminding myself that I wanted Killian to be happy and that she was what he wanted. She was the Mystery Girl who’d inspired poetry in a boy who only liked snark. ‘If you’re worried that we’re hung up on each other, please don’t be. He and I are done. You’re not stepping on any toes.’

I respected her for honouring Girl Code and swore to myself that I’d do the same.

She flushed. ‘You’re so nice, Zella.’

Guilt needled every inch of my body and I shook my head. ‘I’m not. I’m just being truthful. He never really liked me like that.’

Not a lie. She didn’t need to know how the whole thing had been a charade, but when she and Killian inevitably did get together, he would probably tell her the truth. No need to humiliate myself in this moment by making her memory of our conversation extra farcical.

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ she murmured.

‘It is,’ I assured her, putting my make-up bag back in my satchel. ‘Please. Feel free to be together. I have no reason to be in your way and I don’t want to be.’

She fidgeted. ‘Well. I like him. I have for a while. That’s actually why I’ve been coming to the jousts at the Medieval Faire.’

I put a hand over my heart and exclaimed theatrically. ‘You’ve been coming for a crush, and not because of the amazing five-star entertainment show that we all put on.’

We both burst out laughing just as the second bell sounded shrilly, causing me to jump. I hated how loud they were.

Claire, unaffected by the overstimulating invasion of the loud bell, opened the door for us both. ‘Thanks, Zella. You’re . . . you’re not what I thought at all. Thank you.’

I’d have to take her word for it.