Gravity - By Abigail Boyd Page 0,89

I arrived in Art. Her eyes met mine, a paler green than Theo's, but just as full of emotion.

"I want you to know that I vouched for you being in class when the fire alarm went off," she said. That surprised me.

"Thank you," I replied genuinely. "I'm really sorry if I caused you any trouble..."

"You should be," she continued. "The school could have brought disciplinary action against me if anything happened to you. It's very disappointing." She ran her hand through her hair. "It just proves to me that I shouldn't try to be your friend. I'm your teacher."

"Please don't think that way," I started, but she just shook her head, and resumed handing out sketchbooks.

"She'll move on," Theo said after Ms. Vore had walked back up to her desk. "Give her time."

I felt really horrible, and the twisted thing was, my thoughtless actions weren't even worth it. Nothing but bad had come from them.

Hugh was reading the paper at the dining room table when I arrived home.

"Why didn't you tell me about the fire at your school?" he asked the minute I walked in. Claire had driven me home since she had taken a vacation day, and dropped me off on her way to the store. I wasn't ready for another ambush.

"I thought I did," I said, shutting the sliding glass door. "It was on Friday, when I was sick. My head was a little wonky. But I need to talk to you about it now."

He folded the paper back up in a messy lump and tossed it on the table.

"I think there's a possibility I might get in trouble," I started. "But I didn't really do anything wrong."

He was starting to look angry, which was exceedingly rare for Hugh. I stood on the opposing side of the table, twisting the hem of my shirt in my hands. The familiar surroundings of our house suddenly felt like a courtroom, with me presenting my case.

"What happened?" he demanded.

I explained, but left out the part about Henry. Claire would ban him from the house if she thought he was getting me in trouble. Not that I thought he would be back any time soon.

"That was incredibly foolish of you," he said once I was done. "You get indignant that your mother and I are worried about you, and then you put yourself in danger."

I had no reply for that.

"Jenna's disappearance is affecting your judgment, whether you see it or not."

Yeah, and he didn't know the worst of it. Sneaking out and having possible seizures in abandoned buildings. Seeing dead little girls hanging out at school.

"There is still the matter of what happened with the Ford girl," he said, getting up and going for more coffee. "McPherson knows I will bring it up if he dares press anything with this. So don't worry."

"Are you sure?" I asked. Ever since he had caught up to us on Friday, I had been apprehensive McPherson would kick me out of school, but I had been trying not to think about it.

"I'm sure," he said. "But that doesn't by any stretch mean that you're off the hook. Now go downstairs and work on your homework."

Not only was I grounded, but I had to fork over my phone for the week. I begged him not to tell Claire, but he said he couldn't keep secrets from her, because they were in a relationship, and relationships meant honesty. If only I had the same courtesy with Henry.

Despite my hope that things would change, I soon discovered that Henry wouldn't talk to me in school. In fact, the person he had been disappeared, replaced by a specter that shuffled down the halls and never smiled. Every time I saw him I wanted to reach out, to talk to him, to shake him and ask him what was going on. But I didn't know how.

"What is up with your boy?" Theo asked one day as November chugged on. She had finally gotten around to putting together a set of sketches for my dad, and they were going up in the gallery in a few weeks. It had seemed to fill her with a sense of self-confidence I hadn't seen before.

"He's not my boy," I said emphatically. "And your guess is as good as mine."

Henry laid his head down on his desk. He was wearing the sweatshirt with the blackbirds inside the hood, pulled over his head. I clenched my fingers, ignoring the strong impulse to go over and stroke the