I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,33

when he turned to me, I saw the apology in his eyes before he said anything.

I shook my head. “Trust me. In the grand scheme of my life, this doesn’t factor at all. I don’t care.”

He gave me a small smile, but I knew he didn’t believe me.

He should’ve. I’d rather have this attention than the other kind. The Willow’s sister kind. Then again, they didn’t know Willow. She was only that girl who’d killed herself.

If they even knew that. Common sense told me the news had to have gotten out, but Ryan was adamant that he and his friends didn’t talk. I was still waiting for it to come out of Erin’s mouth one day, and when that happened, I was prepared for my first jail time.

It wasn’t that I was hoping or planning for it, but I had to be realistic. I was probably going to punch the girl.

Pure agony tore through my chest as I missed Willow more than I thought possible in that instant. I faltered a moment. I felt suspended in hell. I forced myself to exhale and then fill my lungs and bring my head up. My neck felt as if it was lifting cement, and I had to break concrete to resume walking.

One step. Two. Three.

The agony was still there, but it wasn’t bone crushing.

Four, five, six, and I didn’t feel like I was going blind.

“You okay?” Ryan looked toward me as we walked.

He’d noticed. Of course he had.

I forced a nod—God, that hurt—and cleared my throat. “I’m going to the office, get my schedule and everything.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

There was no appropriate answer to that. I didn’t know when there would be, so I ignored it. “I’ll check in with you later.”

“Okay.” I felt him watching me as I continued down the hallway. I didn’t stop feeling his eyes until I turned the corner and found the school’s office.

The interest in me waned once I hit the second hallway, which meant the school gossip train must not have traveled as fast as I’d thought. Nearing the office door, I saw Cora lingering outside of it. As I approached, she pushed off from the wall, adjusting her hold on a textbook and notebook.

Her eyes slid to the floor, but then she straightened and her little chin firmed in determination as she looked at me again.

She reminded me of a wounded bird. I was the eagle who’d torn her wing, but for some idiotic reason, she wanted to befriend the eagle. No, wait—Ryan was the eagle. I’d be the vulture in our little scenario.

“Hey.”

I paused, nodding to her in greeting.

She picked at some imaginary threads on her shirt before rushing out, “IknowRyanlikesyouandI’msorryforwhatIdidbutIwanttobefriendsifthatscoolwithyou?” Her cheeks pinked so she had to stop. Smoothing out her shirt, she asked, “Would you?”

“Yeah.” There were no hard feelings. She should be the one pissed at me anyway. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

The office door opened, and I stepped back, clearing the way for some students headed out. I stepped inside, and Cora followed. The office was full of activity—teachers going in and out and three ladies working behind the desk. One waved me over with a harried expression on her face.

“Name?”

I gave her my info and slid over the papers my mom had left on the counter for me this morning.

“People are already talking about you,” Cora murmured.

The lady interrupted, asking, “Mackenzie Malcolm?”

“Yes.”

She went back to typing at her computer.

I glanced at Cora, who edged closer, looking over her shoulder. I saw the two girls standing in line behind us, both watching as they talked to each other. I only hoped the gossip was Ryan-centered. I could handle that.

They looked vaguely familiar. One had auburn hair grazing the top of her shoulders. The other had darker hair that was styled the same. Pink sweaters. Blue jeans. And glitter. They all seemed to wear glitter.

“They popular?” I asked Cora.

“They’re friends of Erin’s.”

Aha. So they would’ve been at the Jensens’ on Saturday. “Gotcha.”

“Okay, Miss Malcolm.” The lady reached for the printer behind her and then extended the papers to me. “Here’s your class schedule, locker number, and combination, and you’ll have to stop in the nurse’s office. She’ll have a form to give to your parents to sign, giving us permission to give you pain pills or Band-Aids, things like that.” She plastered a nice smile on her face, one she’d probably used twenty other times this morning already. “Is your sister coming in?”

Cora gasped.

She didn’t know . . .

The lady

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