Call It What You Want(16)

I stare up at him, unsure what that means. “Anytime.”

“Tomorrow night?”

I really need to stop saying anytime. “Um. Okay.”

“We can meet earlier so you don’t have to sneak out. Seven?”

“Sure.”

He hoists his backpack onto his shoulder, then hesitates. “You want me to walk you to your car? Or are you going to hang out for a while?”

Where does all this chivalry come from? It must be his mother. I can’t imagine a man stealing from half the people in the community taking the time to teach his son to walk a girl to her car.

Or maybe he would. Maybe that’s all part of the illusion. Maybe that’s how he got away with it for so long.

Flustered, I say, “No. It’s fine. I’m fine. I need—I said I’d pick something up.”

“See you tomorrow.” He turns on his heel and walks out.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rob

I go for a run at five a.m. It’s so dark that I feel invisible. My lungs burn with cold, and it’s been long enough since I last hit the pavement that I’m hating it. Especially since I didn’t go to sleep until after midnight.

I push through anyway.

You can always push a little harder, Robby. My father’s words throb in my head. If there’s something you want, you have to be able to push past whatever is stopping you.

He didn’t seem to have much trouble pushing past his morals. If he ever had any to begin with.

Music pours into my headphones, and the air tastes like snow. Each time my feet slap the asphalt, it’s like a smack, reminding me of what a freak I was last night.

Are you high or something?

Did I look that out of it? Do I?

I liked that Maegan was willing to sit in the quiet. It took me by surprise, because she didn’t strike me as the type. It was nice to sit with someone who doesn’t share my DNA and doesn’t want to rag on me about my father’s misdeeds. It was nice to go somewhere. To do something.

My life has collapsed to the point where a ninety-nine-cent cup of coffee with a stranger is meaningful.

This run is killing me. Damn, it’s cold. My calves are burning. I push my legs forward.

She surprised me when she thought Dad was in a nursing home. I wonder if a lot of people think that. I wonder if everyone thinks that.

Not like it matters. The only thing worse than all the accusatory glances would be pitiful ones.

A whistle sounds in my ears, loud over the music. My running app. I can walk now. Thirty minutes, done. I ran three miles. My legs are going to hate me tomorrow. They’ll probably hate me later this morning when I help Mom heave Dad out of bed.

Suddenly, I wish I had another thirty minutes of running in me. I wish I could keep running forever. Away from here.

I can’t. And I can’t leave my mother.

I turn the music down and head for home.



At school, I reach Mrs. Quick’s classroom before Maegan does. Before most of the class does, really. No one ever holds me up in the hallway, so I have nothing to distract me on the way to the classroom. When I walk through the door, most of the seats are empty.

The ones in the back.

And the ones in the front.

I stand there, deliberating.

“Forget where you sit?” Maegan asks from behind me.

My defenses snap into place like a vault door swinging closed. Now I’ve lost my chance to choose. I don’t look at her. “No.”

She moves past me, toward the desks. To my surprise, she walks beyond the front row and heads all the way to the back. Right beside the chair I used yesterday.

Like an idiot, I stand there staring at her.

We’ve also garnered the attention of the three other kids who’ve already taken their seats.

Maegan’s cheeks turn faintly pink. “You moved up front yesterday. Seemed fair.”

Okay. I force my feet to move. I shuffle down the aisle and drop into my regular seat. No one ever sits back here. Other kids are filing in to fill the room now, but we’re alone in this corner. It’s weird to have company, especially first thing in the morning.

It never used to be weird.

She’s pulling her things out of her backpack, and she hasn’t really looked at me. She wears glasses, and her hair is piled into one of those loose ponytail buns, with strands escaping to frame her face. A thin gray scarf with random pink threads winds around her neck.

I never really noticed before, but she’s very pretty. In an understated way.

Her head swivels to look at me. “Okay. What?”

I jump. “What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

I jerk my eyes back to my desk. I was staring. It’s like I’ve lost any grip on social conventions.

But then I turn back to look at her. “Sorry. I was surprised. That you wanted to sit back here.”

Maegan shrugs. “Like I said. Seemed fair. Maybe we can swap on and off.”

Mrs. Quick comes into the room, and everyone shuts up to pay attention.

Except me. I can’t pay attention to anything at all.

I’m too stuck on the fact that, for the first time in months, someone treated me like me, and not like the son of my father.

It has to mean something. I feel like I’m missing something important.