Emmy & Oliver - Robin Benway Page 0,13

package of peanut M&M’s? Oh my God, she blew up like a balloon. People were practically throwing EpiPens at her like she was a dartboard.”

“Yeah,” I said, half listening.

“It was nuts. No pun intended.”

I shook Caro off and went over to where Oliver was spinning his locker combination, consulting the tiny sheet of paper from the office that had his schedule and info. The milk cartons were literally knocking into his knuckles as he worked, but he didn’t acknowledge it, just like he wasn’t acknowledging the people that were staring at him or giggling nearby.

“So mean,” I heard a few girls whisper into their cupped hands, but they were standing together in a tiny gaggle, hiding smiles behind their fingers. Probably freshmen. They loved drama at school because it was just like all the movies they had grown up watching. A delivery on a promise: high school will be so exciting! When in fact, it was normally just boring as hell.

I glared at the girls as I went over to Oliver. My cheeks felt like someone had packed hot coals into them, but his were still East Coast pale. “I’m really sorry about this,” I said, blurting out words before I could put any actual thought behind them. “Everyone here is an asshole. You should know that.”

Oliver glanced down at me, blinking a few times in slow motion and reminding me of Mr. Snuffleupagus on Sesame Street. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked. “Did you do this?”

“What? No! No, of course not.” I shook my head and crossed my arms. “No, I just . . . I’m sorry this is your first day and people are treating you like this.”

He pulled a brown-bag lunch out of his backpack (so new that I could see where either he or his mom had forgotten to remove the sales tag) and shoved it into his locker. The milk cartons were still thudding against the door, drawing even more attention to the spectacle. Behind me, I heard someone’s camera phone click. “Like what?” he asked.

“Like . . .” I gestured toward the locker. Like what, Emmy? Like a kid who was missing and then came home? Like the new kid who has to be hazed? Like Caro said, it’s milk, not arsenic.

And then Oliver blinked again and it was like a shutter went off in his own eyes so I could see the picture of the anger, the hurt, the embarrassment. It was a private viewing just for me, gone a second later when he blinked once more and his face smoothed back into its normal, passive shape.

“Emily, right?” he said.

It took me a few seconds to realize he meant me. No one ever called me Emily, not unless they were my parents and they were furious. “Um, yeah,” I said. “Emmy, actually.” It felt odd to introduce myself to him all over again.

“Want some milk?” he asked. He snapped a carton from its wire and handed it to me before I could even answer. “In case you’re vitamin D deficient. Courtesy of our classmates.”

“But I—I’m not—okay, thanks.” The carton was cold, which meant someone had done it right before school started.

Small mercies. The milk could have been spoiled.

Oliver slammed his locker shut, then took his own carton, opened the top, and drank the whole thing in one gulp as he walked down the hallway. Just before he rounded the corner, he sank it into a trash can.

“What did he say?” Caro said, suddenly at my elbow again.

“He gave this to me,” I said, showing her the carton.

“Yeah, I know, genius, but what did he say? Is he pissed?”

I couldn’t help but smile as I shook my head. “He said I could have this in case I had a vitamin deficiency.” I handed it to her as she frowned at me. “And he called me Emily.”

Caro wrinkled her nose. “Do you think he’s . . . you know . . . ?” Caro tapped her index finger against her temple. “Addled?”

“No,” I laughed. “No, I think he’s really smart.”

“Well, I hope so, for your sake.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because it’s Wednesday.”

Wednesday.

“Oh my God,” I said, whirling to face her. “It’s Wednesday.”

“That’s right.” She smiled and handed the milk carton back to me. “Babysitting night.”

CHAPTER SIX

I’ve been babysitting for Nora and Molly off and on for the past six months. It was originally my idea. I needed cash to buy a new surfboard and wet suit because my old ones no longer fit me, and Maureen had