Trust(21)

Mom would even get over it eventually.

The usual array of naughty types surrounded me. One girl with cool blue mermaid hair was scratching her name into her desk. Some were reading, doing their homework. Others stared at the ceiling or out the window. Up front, the teacher stayed busy on her cell phone, probably playing Candy Crush or sexting someone.

“Psst,” came from behind me, followed by a sharp tug on the end of my braid.

“Hey,” I growled, frowning back at the buffoon. “Don’t touch.”

“Sorry. I’m Anders.” His grin was wide, his hair cut short. The package contained an excess of both cuteness and cooldom.

I said nothing.

“You’re Edie,” he said. “John told me about you.”

“He did?” I frowned, realization slowly dawning. The basketball kid who’d caught a lift home with him the other day. Right. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Chin in hand, he looked me over. God, here we go. Shoulders tensed, I waited for the usual array of insults—fat, ugly, whatever. Maybe I had a chip on my shoulder. More than likely, I’d gotten used to expecting the worst from people. At any rate, instead, he said, “We should be friends. Spend time together. Stuff like that.”

Huh. “Why?”

“Yeah, you, me, and John. I like it. Let’s do that.” His mouth just went on and on, rattling out the words. “Is it true you lost it in class the other day and started raving about a book killing people?”

I turned away. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” He chuckled. “What do you think about basketball?”

“I don’t.”

“That’s a shame.” He picked up the end of my braid again, swinging it back and forth between us until I smacked at his hand. What a weirdo.

“John talked about me?” I asked, trying not to sound excited because that would be dumb.

Anders shrugged. “Yeah, he said something like ‘That girl was at the Drop Stop.’”

“That’s not a lot.”

“It’s more than he’s ever said about pretty much any other girl.” He clasped his hands together and put them on the desk. “Generally, I do the talking for both of us. It’s become a bit of a problem, actually.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. Problem is, John’s gotten a bit . . . how should I say this? Fucky. Yes, John’s been in a bit of a fucky mood since the whole robbery death thing.”

“Oh.” I froze.

“But still, you’re not seeing my real inner pain over this whole talking thing at all. You’re not seeing how it affects me. I mean, I’m on the basketball team. This shouldn’t even be an issue for me. But the thing is, Edie my friend, some of us have to actually talk girls into taking off their clothes,” he said, one brow raised. “Fucky mood or not, he doesn’t. JC just kind of looks at them and their panties and bras go up in flames. They spontaneously combust or something; I’m not sure what the exact scientific term for it is.”

I winced. “I’m not sure I needed to know that. And actually, it sounds painful.”

“Right?” He leaned in closer. “Between you and me, I think it’s his Fabio hair.”

“Fabio?” I asked.

“You don’t know Fabio? Edie, friend, Fabio’s an important and glorious part of American romance fiction history. My mom told me so.”

“I’ll look him up.”

“You do that.”

“What’s going on with John?” I pushed, concerned.

“Good question.” He chewed on the end of his pen, giving me a speculative look. “Going to the party this weekend?”

“What party? Sabrina’s?” I seemed to recall that was the name of the girl who’d left the invite under my windshield wiper.

“Yep.”

I frowned. “I hadn’t been planning on it. I’m not really very social.”

“No.” Mouth hanging open in exaggerated surprise, Anders started slipping off his chair, catching himself only at the last second. “I cannot believe that. You seem so friendly and outgoing.”

Smartass. “I do dazzle most people, it’s true. Can we please talk about John?”

He just blinked. “Come to the party.”

“Me? Why?”

“Is it not enough that I said to?”

And I contemplated that for all of a second. “No.”

“Actually, I can respect that.” He picked at his teeth with a fingernail. “What else are you going to do in this town on a Saturday night, hmm?”

Sit alone in my room, read a book, and eat a packet of Oreos. Pretty much exactly in that order. And it sounded like heaven. One of the true benefits of being an only child: no needing to share the snacks. But still, I was worried about John. And getting information out of this nut was difficult.

“Come to the party and bring your other friends,” he said. “Ones that are girls, okay?”

I frowned. It’s not like I usually got invited to a lot of things; maybe I should make an effort to be more social and fit in. I wondered if Hang and co would be up for it. On the other hand, a party. Ugh. Lots of people gathered in one place with social expectations, etcetera. “I don’t know. Will John be there?”