Josh looks down at his sneakers, and then back up, and then back down. “You know that I like you. Right?”
My heart pounds so hard that he can probably feel the reverberations. But – for once – the words fall easily from my lips. “So stay here next weekend. Go out with me.”
Chapter eight
Josh isn’t in school the next day. He has three more days off for a holiday that he doesn’t celebrate. I wish I could get away with it, but the idea of potentially missing an important class or being late on an assignment makes me break out in hives. But I understand that his priorities are elsewhere – his art. So I’m shocked when I enter first period on Tuesday, and he’s slouched at his desk…a full five minutes before the bell rings.
A rush of adrenalin removes any last trace of morning sleepiness. “What are you doing here?” I hug a notebook to my chest, glowing with happiness.
“H–hey.” He sits up straighter. “Yeah. Funny story.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Perhaps the head of school grew suspicious about the length of my absence. Perhaps she called my parents. Perhaps my parents confirmed that we don’t celebrate Sukkoth.”
My shoulders fall. “Perhaps you have a shit-ton of detention?”
Josh shrugs, but it’s a shrug of affirmation.
“That sucks. I’m sorry.”
He clasps his hands on top of his desk. “Actually.” Josh lowers his voice and leans in. “The situation isn’t all bad.”
I crinkle my nose. “It’s not?”
He stares at me. He stares harder.
“Oh.” My gaze drops in a sheepish sort of pleasure. “Um. How much detention did you receive?”
Josh sits back again, resuming his slouch. “Only three weeks, but—”
That snaps my head back up.
“Including Saturdays.” Another shrug. “It’s not a big deal, I can use the time to work. But I’m also on my final warning. Didn’t take long,” he adds.
My heart stops – literally stops – for a full beat. “Final warning? As in expulsion?”
“Seriously. Not a big deal.” But my panic must be showing, because he scoots forward in his seat. “Let’s just say that for a ‘final’ warning? It’s not my first.”
I wait. I have no idea how he can be so calm about this.
“Last year,” he explains. “In fact, I was on my final warning once in the winter and once in the spring. So, somehow, I got two. This is number three.”
“Well…be careful.” It sounds so lame. “I mean, the leaves haven’t even changed, and you wouldn’t want to miss that. Though they are prettier in New York—”
“I’ll be careful.” His voice is deliberate. He smiles.
I fiddle with a curl in my hair.
Two desks away, Emily Middlestone leans over. She’s wearing a pair of designer glasses that I’m sure are fake. “You know, that’d be really stupid if you got kicked out in your last year of school.”
Josh’s expression wipes blank. “Yeah, Emily. That would be stupid.”
Professeur Cole bursts into the room and grinds to a halt. “Am I late?” she asks Josh.
He shakes his head once. “Nope.”
“Well. How fortunate that you have finally learned how to tell the time.” But her smile is sly. She marches up to her podium, and I take my seat.