pissiness, as if the receptors determining my shitty mood were activated by the hot water hitting my skin.
Who the hell does he think he is? I thought as I yanked a comb through my hair afterward. First doing what he did before I left, and then showing up here? I threw a towel around my hair and then let out a mini scream of frustration when it unraveled immediately. He’s crazy if he thinks I’m going to act like everything is fine. I’m not going to speak to him. I’ll acknowledge him if he talks to me, but we will not be friends again. I’m not even going to look at him.
That didn’t happen.
I got to my first-period English class early, since my morning dose of Candy and Ryan hadn’t done much to improve my mood. Neither had the fact that Mom and Miranda spent breakfast blathering about how excited they were to have David and his father in town, and how they wished Aunt Tess and Uncle Tommy hadn’t sold the cabin, so we could all get together for old time’s sake.
I had muttered that old times were old for a reason. They ignored me.
Most of the desks were still empty as I took my place in the back, reserving the seat next to me for Violet by dumping my bag on the chair. I dug out the book we’d been assigned to read and prepared to numb my mind for a few minutes.
That is, until David walked in the door and handed Mr. Ingles a transfer slip.
“Ah,” Mr. Ingles said, twisting his thick mustache. “Mrs. Pruitt’s class too full?”
“Yes,” David replied. “They told me I should come to this room starting today.”
“Well, then. Welcome aboard Mr.”—he glanced at the paper—“Kerrigan. Have a seat.”
No. No, no frickin’ way. My palms started to sweat as I hoped David wouldn’t see me. Or that he would, and he’d choose a seat as far from me as possible.
But he strode right over, plopping himself down at the desk in front of Violet’s. “Hey.” He smiled an effortless smile, and something I’d noticed yesterday caught my attention again. The tiny beauty mark he’d always had beneath his lip was now accompanied by a small, angry red line, like a cut that hadn’t healed properly.
I wondered how and when he’d gotten it before I slipped my bookmark between the pages of my novel and sat up. And broke my promise to ignore him by replying, “Hey.”
That didn’t take long.
We started talking at the same time, turned red, and stopped. “Go ahead,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“I was just saying we didn’t really get a chance to talk yesterday.”
“I know. I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather.”
“I’m not.” He raked a hand through his hair and shook his head. “That came out wrong. I just meant he’s been in a bad way for a long time, and unhappy even longer. Maybe now he’s at peace. Or something.”
“So you’re living in his house?”
He nodded. “It’s ours now.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
It was an honest statement, but I hadn’t meant for it to sound quite so blunt.
David smirked. “Neither could your sister. She made me feel like a rock star.”
I wanted to ask him why he hadn’t called, or sent a text, or given me some sort of warning, but I knew it was a stupid question. I wouldn’t have broken radio silence after a year either. So I said, “Miranda always loved you.”
Bad choice. His smile faded and he flipped his notebook cover open and closed as I tried to think of something, anything, to diffuse the mention of the L word.
“So, um, what else is new?”
David’s eyes flitted over me. “Your hair is different.”
My hands fluttered to the highlighted blond strands that suddenly felt foreign and phony, and I tried to ignore that his words sounded like an accusation. “I needed a change. Do you like it?”
He shrugged. “It’s nice. But I liked it before, too.”
Painful. This conversation was truly and utterly painful. Teach us something, Mr. Ingles! I begged silently. So what if there are only five people in the room?
With no relief in sight, I made a last-ditch effort. “How’s your dad?”
“He’s better.”
“Better?”
David made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a snort.
“What?” My heart sped up as I waited for him to tell me whatever it was I didn’t know but apparently should’ve.
His eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t decide whether or not to take me seriously. “We found out he had