happy for the first time. “Or maybe…oh. That is interesting. Clever, even.”
“What is?”
“I have to investigate first to confirm,” he says, mostly to himself. “But in the meantime, I have a plan to help you with the backlash.”
I stare at him. At this absolutely bizarre, unfeeling genius who is offering to help me for no reason at all. The worst part is that I’m glad about it. And I definitely don’t deserve that. “Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” he says automatically, but he frowns a little.
“I thought I was just entertainment to you. Remember?” My voice comes out dull. “You don’t need to help me feel better about rumors or anything like that. It doesn’t seem very you .”
He stops leaning on the table, his back straightening. “And you know me so well, do you?”
“You make your personality pretty obvious. Smart. Doesn’t care.”
“You did say I wasn’t a heartless bastard, so maybe you don’t know me,” he says curtly.
“Didn’t know you paid that much attention to what comes out of my mouth.”
“It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
I stop. There’s an odd smirk on his face. Is he being sarcastic? I can’t tell. I’m too tired to figure it out. Today is not a good day.
This time, when I leave, he doesn’t follow.
I mean to go to class, but I can’t face it. Instead, I skip for the first time in history. I nearly walk out the door, but what if the people in the front office see me? Instead I lurk in the hallway between the art department and the gym. One hour and I can go home. Take a nap.
And see Mom.
If she finds out about the photo…
There’s the click of a door opening nearby. Someone’s coming out of the boy’s bathroom. I freeze midstride when I see who it is.
“Irene!” stammers Ethan Thomas, wiping his still-wet hands on his pants.
“Oh…hi, Ethan.” Excuses. Quick. “Hey, I’m sorry I left super suddenly the other day. I got a crazy stomachache.”
“Don’t worry about it. I figured it was something like that. Hope you’re feeling better.” He keeps wiping his hands even after they’re dry, eyes fixed on me. He’s sort of cute, in a creepy hangdog way. He’s short, at least. My height. “I wanted to tell you…that picture—I didn’t take it. Like there aren’t any hidden cameras in my room or—or anything. I wanted you to know.”
“No. I took it. Sometimes the urge to take a selfie strikes at the strangest times.” I laugh weakly and take a swift look around to confirm Sherlock still isn’t nearby.
“Right,” says Ethan, clearly confused. Kind of endearingly so. I almost feel bad for him before remembering he cheated on his girlfriend. Albeit a girlfriend who spread naked pictures of me around school. Speaking of…
“Hey, Ethan, what’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“Girlfriend?” He pales and starts toying with his belt loop, his fingers slipping in and out. “What girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend. No girlfriends around here.”
“I heard you’re dating someone,” I say cautiously. “Or at least you were.”
“Me? Not me. Do you think I’d invite you over to my place if—” He breaks off, hesitating like the protagonist in a romantic comedy. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to get together again? Since you had to leave before. I thought this time we could take it slow, get dinner at Adolfo’s, see a—”
“I can’t.”
“Are you sure? Because—”
“No thanks, Ethan.”
He literally hangs his head. I almost feel bad again, but my negative emotion generator has worn itself out for the day.
“Well…I’ll see you around, then, “ he says, wandering off with his head still down.
It’s been ages since someone has asked me out. It used to happen often enough. Carol always said—but it’s not a good time to think about that.
So Ethan’s determined to pretend his girlfriend doesn’t exist. That’s fine. The
“What is?”
“I have to investigate first to confirm,” he says, mostly to himself. “But in the meantime, I have a plan to help you with the backlash.”
I stare at him. At this absolutely bizarre, unfeeling genius who is offering to help me for no reason at all. The worst part is that I’m glad about it. And I definitely don’t deserve that. “Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” he says automatically, but he frowns a little.
“I thought I was just entertainment to you. Remember?” My voice comes out dull. “You don’t need to help me feel better about rumors or anything like that. It doesn’t seem very you .”
He stops leaning on the table, his back straightening. “And you know me so well, do you?”
“You make your personality pretty obvious. Smart. Doesn’t care.”
“You did say I wasn’t a heartless bastard, so maybe you don’t know me,” he says curtly.
“Didn’t know you paid that much attention to what comes out of my mouth.”
“It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
I stop. There’s an odd smirk on his face. Is he being sarcastic? I can’t tell. I’m too tired to figure it out. Today is not a good day.
This time, when I leave, he doesn’t follow.
I mean to go to class, but I can’t face it. Instead, I skip for the first time in history. I nearly walk out the door, but what if the people in the front office see me? Instead I lurk in the hallway between the art department and the gym. One hour and I can go home. Take a nap.
And see Mom.
If she finds out about the photo…
There’s the click of a door opening nearby. Someone’s coming out of the boy’s bathroom. I freeze midstride when I see who it is.
“Irene!” stammers Ethan Thomas, wiping his still-wet hands on his pants.
“Oh…hi, Ethan.” Excuses. Quick. “Hey, I’m sorry I left super suddenly the other day. I got a crazy stomachache.”
“Don’t worry about it. I figured it was something like that. Hope you’re feeling better.” He keeps wiping his hands even after they’re dry, eyes fixed on me. He’s sort of cute, in a creepy hangdog way. He’s short, at least. My height. “I wanted to tell you…that picture—I didn’t take it. Like there aren’t any hidden cameras in my room or—or anything. I wanted you to know.”
“No. I took it. Sometimes the urge to take a selfie strikes at the strangest times.” I laugh weakly and take a swift look around to confirm Sherlock still isn’t nearby.
“Right,” says Ethan, clearly confused. Kind of endearingly so. I almost feel bad for him before remembering he cheated on his girlfriend. Albeit a girlfriend who spread naked pictures of me around school. Speaking of…
“Hey, Ethan, what’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“Girlfriend?” He pales and starts toying with his belt loop, his fingers slipping in and out. “What girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend. No girlfriends around here.”
“I heard you’re dating someone,” I say cautiously. “Or at least you were.”
“Me? Not me. Do you think I’d invite you over to my place if—” He breaks off, hesitating like the protagonist in a romantic comedy. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to get together again? Since you had to leave before. I thought this time we could take it slow, get dinner at Adolfo’s, see a—”
“I can’t.”
“Are you sure? Because—”
“No thanks, Ethan.”
He literally hangs his head. I almost feel bad again, but my negative emotion generator has worn itself out for the day.
“Well…I’ll see you around, then, “ he says, wandering off with his head still down.
It’s been ages since someone has asked me out. It used to happen often enough. Carol always said—but it’s not a good time to think about that.
So Ethan’s determined to pretend his girlfriend doesn’t exist. That’s fine. The
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