The Lovely Reckless(27)
“Isabella?” I whisper when Mrs. Hellstrom turns to answer another question.
She rolls her eyes. “Isabella Vera Cruz. But nobody calls me that except annoying teachers like her.”
“Trust me, I get it.” I point at myself. “Francesca Devereux.”
She laughs, and Mrs. Hellstrom glares at us.
Eventually, we get paired up to answer boring questions about the entries from the dead and famous.
“So are you okay after everything that went down last night?” Cruz asks me.
“Yeah.” The realization hits me all at once. I’m not just saying it because she is the one asking.
For the first time in months, it’s true.
I am okay.
Last night I held it together when Sung grabbed me, and this morning I stood my ground with Dad—something the old Frankie never would’ve done. It feels like I’m finally waking up after being asleep for years.
“When I mentioned the street races to your friend Abel, I didn’t think he’d really come. Or that it would start such a shit storm.” Cruz shakes her head. At least that part of Abel’s story was true. “But I couldn’t believe you showed up.”
“Why?” Now that I asked, I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
“Girls from the Heights don’t usually come to the street races.”
“Abel is one of my best friends, and he was in trouble. It’s not like I had a choice.” A second too late, I realize the way it sounds. “Not that there’s anything wrong with where you race.”
“You had a choice. Most people won’t have your back if it means putting their own ass on the line. Trust me.”
“I don’t have many real friends.” The words tumble out. Perfect. She probably thinks I sit alone at a huge table in the cafeteria every day.
“Me neither.”
The bell rings, and Mrs. Hellstrom issues last-minute instructions as chair legs scrape and students bolt out the door. I close the photocopied packet of other people’s private thoughts and stuff it in my backpack.
Cruz tucks her pen in the pocket of the painted-on jeans that manage to look cool on her, instead of like she’s trying too hard.
I follow her out of the classroom, expecting her to ditch me. Instead, she falls into step beside me. “So what’s the deal between you and Marco?”
Is it that obvious?
“There’s no deal.”
“He doesn’t stick his neck out for just anyone.”
“His sister is in my group at the rec center. He probably wanted to make sure her tutor didn’t get kidnapped.” It’s pretty much the same answer I gave Lex, and from the look on Cruz’s face, she isn’t buying it, either.
Cruz owns the hallway. Guys stare and girls move aside. A jock wearing a Monroe Soccer T-shirt and a Tag Heuer watch that’s worth at least nine hundred dollars checks out Cruz instead of paying attention to the cheerleader batting her lashes at him.
The jock grins at Cruz, and she gives him the finger. “Guys from the Heights are assholes.”
All of a sudden, it feels like I’m standing on the wrong side of enemy lines. But the truth is, lots of guys from the Heights are arrogant, selfish, and entitled. Noah was an exception. “You’re right. Most of them are.”
“You don’t have to agree with me to avoid an awkward moment. I can deal with awkward. It’s bullshit I can’t handle.”
“I’m not that nice anymore.”
She sizes me up and watches the activity in the hallway at the same time. She would make a good cop. “Now that we’ve established this is a bullshit-free zone, there’s really nothing going on with you and Marco?”
“He’s not my type, and I’m probably not his, either.” I sound like my six-year-old cousin when he can’t have something and he says, Then I don’t want it anyway. “I’m not going to jump in bed with him just because he’s hot.”
“Most girls do.” It sounds like she’s stating a fact. “But you think he’s hot?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Especially now that I know Lex wasn’t exaggerating about his reputation.
“It’s what you said.”
“I’m not going to be Marco Leone’s flavor of the week, and I don’t want a relationship with anyone.”
She flashes a smug smile when I say the word relationship.
“Not that I think Marco is relationship material.”
Cruz’s smile fades. “You would be surprised.”
CHAPTER 13
ONE-EYED CAT
When Lex drops me off at the rec center after school, the three shirtless basketball players are already standing against the wall. They’re wearing different nylon basketball shorts and leather high-tops, but otherwise they look exactly the same.
“Hey, princess. You’re back.”
“Come on over here and say hi.”
One of them flicks his tongue at me. “We missed you.”
Gross.
They blow me kisses and I ignore them, taking the steps two at a time.
Inside, Sofia sits perched on Miss Lorraine’s chair behind the counter. Miss Lorraine is busy lecturing a boy about how low his jeans are riding.
Sofia notices me watching Miss Lorraine. “She’s really nice when you get to know her. I stay at her house when Marco works late. She’s just sad. Her daughter, Kira, died five years ago, and they were really close.”