By Your Side(11)

“I had to, because you told me you didn’t have a phone, but you really do. I just want to call my family. I’m sure they’re worried about me.”

“Go ahead.” He pointed to the phone.

Was this some sort of a trick? I looked at the black screen again. “I can’t turn it on.”

“Exactly.” He plucked it from my hand, shoved it back into his bag, and zipped it up.

“What do you mean exactly? Can you turn it on for me?”

“No, I can’t. It has no minutes and no charge.”

“Oh.” I still sat on the floor and was too deflated to get up. “Well, that’s not very helpful.”

“You know, before coming here, I forgot to think about you and your needs.”

“Why would you pack a dead phone? Is the charger in there?”

“You tell me.”

“Why did you follow me down here, anyway?”

“Because you left the room looking guilty, like you were about to commit a crime.”

“You know that look well?”

“Stay out of my things.” He said it low and barely audible.

“I’m sorry for going through your stupid bag. I just want to get out of here. My family is probably worried sick about me. Isn’t your family worried about you?”

“No.”

“I’m sure they are. Did you run away?”

“No.”

“Then what? You just left? They’re okay with you just leaving for the weekend? Spending the night in empty libraries?”

“They let me come and go as I please, and I don’t turn them in for the weed they grow in the basement. It works out well.”

I was stunned silent for a moment. I had heard his mom was a druggie, but it was hard to know what was rumor and what was fact. “Your parents grow weed in the basement?”

“My foster parents. Just forget I said that.”

For some reason I was more surprised that it was his foster parents than I would’ve been if it were his real parents.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s perfect. Best situation I’ve had yet.”

Best situation he’d had yet? “I’m so sorry.”

“Why? I have freedom. I’m sorry for you and your pathetically predictable life.”

“Maybe I’m sorry because it’s turned you into a total jerk.”

“Better than a na?ve, spoiled priss.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. There was that word again. Why did I even try? I was not one of those girls who needed to fix broken boys. I stood up and started to walk away, but before I got too far, I marched back to his bag, opened it up, and said, “I’m borrowing your toothpaste.”

His face was one part shock and one part anger when I left again, toothpaste in hand.

When I got to the bathroom I leaned my back up against the cold tile wall and covered my face with my hand. He didn’t have a phone, the only thing that had given me any hope. I really was officially stuck here.

As my breath hitched I reminded myself to focus on the good things. I had toothpaste. And a TV. I could work with that.





CHAPTER 8


As the movie credits rolled up the small screen in the break room, a memory worked its way into my mind. A couple of weeks ago a group of us had gone to the movies. Jeff, the first of our guy friends to arrive, had stepped over and around a whole row of people to sit next to me. “Is this seat saved for Lisa?” he’d asked.

It was. “No,” I said, just as Lisa came in the door and saw her seat taken. I looked at her over his shoulder and she just smiled. I owed her one.

“So it was saved for me, then?”

“We’ll go with that,” I said, stealing a handful of his popcorn.

“First one’s free,” he said.

“Oh, really. And how much for another handful?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you find out?”

I hadn’t followed through but changed the subject. “Where is Dallin and everyone?”

Before Jeff could answer, Dallin and the others came in, laughing.

“My mom is going to kill you,” Zach said, trying to flatten his hair. “I was grounded.”

“That’s why we kidnapped you,” Dallin said. “You get to blame us when she gets mad now.”

Zach was still smashing his hair down. “Was the pillowcase necessary?”

Jeff laughed, and I glanced his way. “You didn’t want to go with them to kidnap Zach?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to get here early.”

What was wrong with me? I thought now, clicking off the television. Whenever I was away from Jeff, outside of our interactions, I could easily pick up on all the signs. But whenever I was near him, it was like my brain short-circuited and I couldn’t tell if he liked me or not. I needed to stop thinking so much. If I hired my dad to assign me a tagline for my life, that would probably be it—Get out of your head. Or It’s not as bad as your brain makes it seem. But those simple slogans were way easier said than done.

I tried to force myself to go to sleep. I was tired. My shoulders ached, my eyes throbbed, my head pounded. A nap would help. But it had been a couple of hours now since my fight with Dax, and I felt bad for calling him a jerk again. I didn’t fight with people. I’d never called anyone a jerk. I hated conflict, but he seemed to bring it out in me. But with the next two days looming ahead, cold and lonely, I knew I needed to try harder to get along with him.