Miss Hadley?” asks Blaise as he stuffs another slice into his mouth.
“I don’t know,” I admit with a shake of my head.
“Why not? She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she?” asks Blaise innocently with a mouth full of pizza.
Feeling like I’m under a microscope, I squirm in my seat. Thankfully, Maria can see my distress and changes the subject. “Blaise, don’t talk with your mouth full. How long have you had Beau?”
I reach out and ruffle his head. “Three years. He’s a good roommate, aren’t you, boy?”
Beau barks and wags his tail with excitement.
“He certainly has a loud bark.” Maria laughs.
“That’s my boy.”
Beau puts his head in my lap and looks up at me. I’m not stupid, I know it’s an obvious ploy for pizza. Caving in, I grab a small slice, rip it in half and give it to him.
Blaise grins at me. “Thought you said no pizza?”
“Yeah, well, later I’m going to regret that.” I screw my face up distastefully and wave my hand under my nose. “He’s going to stink up my home.”
Blaise giggles, clutching his sides at my words.
Maria shakes her head. “Who wants ice cream?”
“Me,” yells Blaise.
I nod, and so does Derek.
“All right, three bowls coming right up,” says Maria as she walks away.
“Blaise, why don’t you go and help your momma?” asks Derek.
“Yes, sir.” Blaise finishes his slice by stuffing it into his mouth, and then he leaves the room.
“Have you and Skye broken up?” asks Derek when we are alone.
“I don’t know. Things are a little strange right now.”
“Is it because of what I’ve done?” Derek looks even more remorseful than he did outside.
“You played a part, I’m not gonna lie, but there are other things, too.”
“I could talk to her?”
“No,” I say quickly, not wanting him anywhere near my girl.
“Okay,” replies Derek, but I can tell he hasn’t let this go, so I change the subject.
“How would you and Blaise like tickets to this week’s game? I can have some sent to you, fifty-yard line?”
Derek sits up straighter in his chair, eyes alight with excitement. “That would be amazing.”
“Okay then, man, I’ll hook you up.”
A noxious smell fills the room, and I look down at Beau, who’s lying on the floor.
“I think that’s my cue to leave.” I stand and look at Derek. “Where would you like the tickets sent?”
Derek rises and holds out his hand, and I grip it in mine. “If you could get them sent here, that would be great. Blaise! Colt has to go,” yells Derek.
Blaise runs back into the room, his face screws up as he smells the gas leaking from Beau’s butt.
“Ewww! Who did that?” shrieks Blaise.
“I told you Beau can’t eat pizza.”
SKYE
Today’s the day for my official hearing at the school. I’m sitting in a hallway, and I feel like I’m on trial for murder. The door to the office opens, I look up, and Derek Geyser is there.
“Hello, Skye.”
“Hello, Derek, come to wave me off?” I ask caustically.
Derek flinches and has the decency to look embarrassed and then down at the floor. “I, ahh…” his hand goes to the back of his neck, and he continues, “… I came to tell them I was in pretty bad shape when I sent the email, and I wish I hadn’t done it.” Derek lets his hand drop and meets my gaze. “I am sorry, Skye. About everything.”
I’m annoyed with him, and forgiveness isn’t going to come easily. “Thank you.”
I want to rage at him, tell him he ruined everything, but I don’t. Instead, I give him a tight-lipped smile and say nothing.
“Will we see you at the game?” asks Derek.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Colt got Blaise and me fifty-yard tickets, so I thought…” he trails off, obviously by the look on my face, he knows not to continue.
I stand, square my shoulders, and look him in the eye. “Colt hasn’t rung me in weeks. My guess is he’s moved on. I suppose I have you to thank for that as well?” Derek blanches and takes a step back. “I do hope you and Blaise have a lovely time, though. Perhaps you could tell Colt I said hello? Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Geyser, I’d like to be alone.”
Derek nods and practically runs from the building. I must say I feel a certain amount of satisfaction at seeing his discomfort.
The door to the office opens again, and I see Tony Wilson, the principal, staring at me.
“Skye, if you’d like to come in?”
“Certainly, Mr. Wilson,” I reply.
In the room