class.
As such, Jayne received a polite nudge. âJayne, why donât you get yourself to class? You wouldnât want to miss too much more school, would you?â
Jayne had taken the hint. Sheâd also heard the words Mrs. Fullerton had left out: You wouldnât want to miss too much more school than you have because you broke that little girlâs neck, would you?
Sheâd gotten to class ten minutes after it started, holding a hall pass from Mrs. Fullerton saying sheâd been âhelping outâ in the library. She took her seat while Mrs. Peabody lectured about The Scarlet Letter .
She had just started discussing Hester Prynneâs public humiliation in the town square.
Jayne could relate.
Her arm was being poked again. She clenched her teeth together and took the note. She never got notes. She wasnât a note kind of girl. And Janice Wells, a quiet girl with a solid B average, was a well-known pawn in the note-passing game.
The note had to have come from the Wicked Witches in the back row.
Jayne was on the front. She didnât recognize the handwriting. There were flowers with large petals and heart centers on both sides.
The happy scrawl across the paper didnât fool her. This wasnât a note taking a poll about which guy was the hottest or asking what she was doing Friday night. She didnât get notes like that.
Which meant it was a note searching for gossip about the accident.
Jayne went with her gut. She tore the note in half and stuffed the pieces in the last pages of her book.
She didnât give a crud what was in that note. Or what people were thinking about her.
Then why did she keep thinking about how long it would take to tape that note together again?
Â
At lunch, Jayne sneaked a diet pop into the reference section of the library. Most of the students who came to the library were there to check e-mail on the opposite side of the silent, over-air-conditioned room.
This side of the library was the perfect hideout. No one ever came to use the encyclopedias anymore. Not when there was Wikipedia.com .
âJaynie, I think itâs time you stopped ignoring me.â
Jayneâs hand jerked, spilling soda droplets on the table. Her heart stopped for a millisecond longer than usual, the good girl in her worrying that one of Mrs. Fullertonâs assistants had caught her with the contraband drink.
But it was just Tom standing in front of her. His dark blue eyes wereâwhat? Sad? Annoyed?
âYou almost made me pee my pants, Tom. Good job.â She attempted a smile, but her nerves were stretched too thin for that. She concentrated on using a piece of notebook paper to wipe up the amber spill. âHowâd you find me?â
âI know your favorite study areas.â He sat down and put his backpack on the table. He leaned over it, his voice low. âHey, did you get my messages? I e-mailed you, IMâed you. I even braved your mom and phoned you a couple of times. Well, I left messages with your dad, but still. She probably knows about them.â
Jayne saw the teasing in his eyes, but she also saw some hurt. He didnât deserve her being a crappy friend. But it went hand in hand with feeling like a crappy human being.
âLifeâs just been a little nutty, you know?â She closed the French textbook that had been open in front of her. She hadnât been studying, anyway. âI wasnât up for chitchat.â
âI know youâve been through a lot. Ellieâs told me most of it, and I heard a lot on the news.â His hands played with a strap on his backpack, and he concentrated on the knots he was making. âI also saw the reporters out there today, stalking you.â His mouth twisted in disgust. âI just wanted to let you know Iâm here if you need to, you know, whatever.â
Tom wasnât too good with words sometimes, but he always meant what he said. Well, at least what he tried to
As such, Jayne received a polite nudge. âJayne, why donât you get yourself to class? You wouldnât want to miss too much more school, would you?â
Jayne had taken the hint. Sheâd also heard the words Mrs. Fullerton had left out: You wouldnât want to miss too much more school than you have because you broke that little girlâs neck, would you?
Sheâd gotten to class ten minutes after it started, holding a hall pass from Mrs. Fullerton saying sheâd been âhelping outâ in the library. She took her seat while Mrs. Peabody lectured about The Scarlet Letter .
She had just started discussing Hester Prynneâs public humiliation in the town square.
Jayne could relate.
Her arm was being poked again. She clenched her teeth together and took the note. She never got notes. She wasnât a note kind of girl. And Janice Wells, a quiet girl with a solid B average, was a well-known pawn in the note-passing game.
The note had to have come from the Wicked Witches in the back row.
Jayne was on the front. She didnât recognize the handwriting. There were flowers with large petals and heart centers on both sides.
The happy scrawl across the paper didnât fool her. This wasnât a note taking a poll about which guy was the hottest or asking what she was doing Friday night. She didnât get notes like that.
Which meant it was a note searching for gossip about the accident.
Jayne went with her gut. She tore the note in half and stuffed the pieces in the last pages of her book.
She didnât give a crud what was in that note. Or what people were thinking about her.
Then why did she keep thinking about how long it would take to tape that note together again?
Â
At lunch, Jayne sneaked a diet pop into the reference section of the library. Most of the students who came to the library were there to check e-mail on the opposite side of the silent, over-air-conditioned room.
This side of the library was the perfect hideout. No one ever came to use the encyclopedias anymore. Not when there was Wikipedia.com .
âJaynie, I think itâs time you stopped ignoring me.â
Jayneâs hand jerked, spilling soda droplets on the table. Her heart stopped for a millisecond longer than usual, the good girl in her worrying that one of Mrs. Fullertonâs assistants had caught her with the contraband drink.
But it was just Tom standing in front of her. His dark blue eyes wereâwhat? Sad? Annoyed?
âYou almost made me pee my pants, Tom. Good job.â She attempted a smile, but her nerves were stretched too thin for that. She concentrated on using a piece of notebook paper to wipe up the amber spill. âHowâd you find me?â
âI know your favorite study areas.â He sat down and put his backpack on the table. He leaned over it, his voice low. âHey, did you get my messages? I e-mailed you, IMâed you. I even braved your mom and phoned you a couple of times. Well, I left messages with your dad, but still. She probably knows about them.â
Jayne saw the teasing in his eyes, but she also saw some hurt. He didnât deserve her being a crappy friend. But it went hand in hand with feeling like a crappy human being.
âLifeâs just been a little nutty, you know?â She closed the French textbook that had been open in front of her. She hadnât been studying, anyway. âI wasnât up for chitchat.â
âI know youâve been through a lot. Ellieâs told me most of it, and I heard a lot on the news.â His hands played with a strap on his backpack, and he concentrated on the knots he was making. âI also saw the reporters out there today, stalking you.â His mouth twisted in disgust. âI just wanted to let you know Iâm here if you need to, you know, whatever.â
Tom wasnât too good with words sometimes, but he always meant what he said. Well, at least what he tried to
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