has two-hundred dollars for yoga pants, right?”
And then she winks at me, just like Liv just did, with a smile.
Fuck!
• • •
My knee bobs as I wait for the bell to ring, my fingers hovering over the keys of my laptop.
Krisjen doesn’t know anything, right? And even if she did, she’s not a gossiper.
Well, she joins in when we gossip, but she doesn’t perpetuate it. She wouldn’t say anything she wasn’t sure about, right?
The bell goes off, and I glance over at Krisjen as she gathers up her materials and packs up her bag. I couldn’t get her alone at lunch, and Spanish is the only class we have together, so I stuff my things into my satchel and push through the others to join her at her side.
“Look, don’t tell Amy that Jaeger and I are kind of friends,” I tell her as everyone filters out of the classroom. “I’m trying to grow up a little. She was late this morning. Forgot her gear. I let her borrow some clothes from my locker.”
Krisjen doesn’t look at me.
Sweat dampens my back. “Maybe I’m hoping she invites me over to where her hot brothers live,” I tease.
But Krisjen continues to exit the classroom and then stops outside the door, stepping right to let the other students out.
“Clay…” She holds a book to her chest and gives me a placating smile. “I may have let my piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend get away with so much, because I lack self-confidence and sometimes it was either him or home, and I didn’t want to go home,” she explains. “But it’s not because I’m a moron, so please, I’d rather you not explain at all than insult me with a lie.”
My face falls.
She pats my arm. “I’m here when you’re ready. See you in the gym.”
She walks off, her brown ponytail swaying as she disappears into the crowd.
Ugh, great. She knows. She totally knows.
I push through the crowd, heading downstairs and into the hallway that’s flooded with more students. Eighth period has been cancelled for a pep rally, and locker doors slam, everyone trying to put away their materials so they don’t have to take them into the gym.
Some of us skip the rally, though, and duck out early for the day. I don’t want to risk being caught with her out in the parking lot by the administration, but we can certainly hide out in the locker room until school is over.
But as soon as I get closer to her locker, the crowd thins, and I see her. A few yards away, staring at something.
I slow my steps, following her gaze.
A noose hangs on her locker door as people pass by, some whispering, some oblivious, and some snickering.
A noose. Like Alli Carpenter.
Liv’s hand hangs from the strap of her bag, limp like she’s been deflated, and I look at her face, seeing shock turn to defiance as she closes her mouth and flexes her jaw.
I just want to wrap my arms around her. I’m here. Baby, I’m here.
She heads to her locker, dials in the combination, and opens it, the noose dangling against the metal.
Without a look to the bystanders drifting back and forth with their eyes on her, I charge over and grab the noose, ready to yank it free of the tape.
But Liv stops me. “Leave it,” she says.
“Liv—”
“Leave it, Clay.”
I stare at her, the bite in her tone making it seem like she’s mad at me.
“Why?” I ask, trying to keep my expression even.
“Because it checks my reality,” she replies stiffly, stuffing her bag into her locker. “This isn’t the first time. It’s a little late to care now.”
And she slams the door, heading straight for the gym. I watch her for a moment, alone in a sea of people, and it shouldn’t be that way.
Part of me can’t wait until she leaves, because she’ll find a bigger world. But once she knows how much better the world is outside of St. Carmen, she’ll never come back.
I drift into the gym, barely noticing the band pounding out a fight song to commemorate the spring sports line-up as I find her standing back, next to the bleachers.
The drumline beat fills the air, vibrating under my shoes, and I walk up behind her, leaning in close and whispering. “I do care.”
Slipping my hand between her and the bleachers, I take hold of her fingers. I half expect her to pull away, but she curls hers around mine, the silent despair peeking through.
I don’t want to