really care, if you know what I mean."
"Sure," Whitney said, though her expression said otherwise.
"Want to hang with us in the library?" Noel asked.
I hesitated. This badass group hung out at the library?
As though reading my thoughts, Whitney laughed. "Hall monitors don't bother us in the library. They think our teachers sent us there to study."
"Oh, clever."
The four of us started out the door.
"I like your scarf," Hope said.
"Thanks, I'm ironic like that."
The juniors, it turned out, had some tricks to teach me. The library, for instance, was a sanctuary from the humdrum boredom of the classroom, and no one bothered us there. Believe it or not, the lounge inside the front office was another safe haven where a student could sit undisturbed, and if the secretary happened to get off her lethargic ass, you just said you were there to see your counselor or waiting for a parent to pick you up for a doctor's appointment. During third period, the music room was unoccupied, and we could mess around by creating our own out-of-tune masterpieces or let Whitney play real music.
"Are you guys going to winter ball?" I asked as Noel made her way down her keyboard, pressing each key from left to right.
"We don't go to school dances," Hope said.
No, of course not.
Fane Donado didn't go to school dances, either.
His loss, 'cause I'd made up my mind to attend winter ball even if I had to go stag. If he bothered to show up I might have asked him to dance.
On the walk home he'd proved he had a sensitive side. And if Fane could dance half as well as he played badminton it could be fun.
But I'd never seen Fane at a school dance.
Not once.
Not ever.
At least we had gym together. I couldn't wait to say 'hi' now that we were on speaking terms.
I changed into my gym clothes quickly with the other girls in the locker room, pulling stray strands of hair out of my scarf into a ponytail.
Inside the gymnasium, Mr. Mooney rolled out a cart filled with basketballs. The eager beavers were already dribbling balls down the court, warming up.
I paced the floor, keeping my eyes peeled for Fane. Seconds before the warning bell rang, he pushed through the double doors, Valerie by his side. I tried to catch his eye, but Fane ignored me completely. It was as though I had dreamed the entire encounter of him walking me home in the snow.
How stupid of me to believe someone at this school might actually notice what I was going through. Not Fane. Not anyone.
Fane took a seat behind Valerie and began massaging her shoulders. Valerie leaned her head back and closed her eyes. I felt like chucking a basketball at them.
I grabbed a ball and beat it to the ground with my fist. Over and over it bounced back for further abuse.
Mr. Mooney blew his whistle. "All right, everyone, as you can see, we're playing basketball this month. Let's break into teams. AJ, Brook, I'm making you team captains. Start picking your teammates."
AJ and Brook walked to the middle of the gym and faced the rest of us. AJ poised his ball under an arm at his side. Brook hugged hers to her stomach.
"Paul," AJ said.
"Tyler."
"Mike."
"Angie."
What bullshit. Low and behold, I was one of the last to be called onto Brook's team. I didn't play in the first game. In the next, I raced up and down the court, capable of matching anyone's speed with energy to spare. No one passed me the ball, so I snatched it when the opposing team failed to catch a pass. I pounded down the court to the awaiting hoop. Clayton came at me with a cocksure grin on his lips. I slammed my shoulder into him and shoved him to the ground. Clayton landed on his ass with a thud.
The blast of Mr. Mooney's whistle pierced every ear in the gym. "Sky, what was that?"
Everyone looked at me. That much attention might have mortified me before. Now I lifted my chin. "He was in my way."
"Then go around him."
Mr. Mooney gave three blasts of his whistle. "All right, back to the game, everyone. Sky, you're out."
I shrugged and walked over to the bleachers, sitting at the bottom, several rows in front of Fane and Valerie.
Valerie's voice drifted down. "Someone doesn't know how to play nice."
I faced forward as I replied, "I guess comas aren't enough to get a girl out of gym class. What does it