If You Find Me(46)

“Busted,” Pixie whispers out of the side of her mouth.

I follow the words as Pixie drones on, her dislike of the story comically apparent. But, something else catches my eye—a familiar grin filling up the rectangle of glass in the classroom door.

It’s Ryan, pointing at his watch and making exaggerated chewing motions.

Mrs. Hadley marches to the door and throws it open, catching him mid-chew. Pixie uses the moment to ball up a sheet of notebook paper and hit me in the head with it.

“Score,” she proclaims under her breath.

“Look, everyone. It’s Ryan Shipley,” Mrs. Hadley says, and even I have to laugh.

“This isn’t trigonometry! I’ll have to report you, Mrs. Hadley, if you don’t produce my trigonometry class at once,” he says.

“Get to class, Ryan, before I report you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, winking at me.

“As you were,” he says to the class, saluting and clicking his heels. Mrs. Hadley closes the door, shaking her head, like we’re all impossible.

I settle back in my seat, smiling, until I remember. I turn slowly toward the left. Delaney looks away and proceeds to make a big production out of folding a sheet of notebook paper into squares.

“Psssst.”

I turn to Pixie, whose eyes are shining.

“You’re soooo lucky,” she whispers. “Ryan definitely likes you. Damn, girl, I wish I were older—believe me, you’d have some stiff competition.”

I force a smile, but my insides jump like I’ve eaten the tumors we found in some of the catfish a few summers back. I can feel Delaney staring at me, but I refuse to look. My mind’s a jumble.

The important question is, Where can I meet Ryan for lunch this time? I reckon the courtyard’s out. It needs to be a place where Delaney and her friends won’t find us.

I scribble like I’m scribbling Gatsby notes, then tear the sheet from my notebook and pass it to Pixie.

Can you pass a message to Ryan for me? Don’t let on, okay? I don’t want Delaney to see. Ask him to meet me in the library at lunch.

[page]Pixie nods, making it appear as if she’s nodding at something Mrs. Hadley is saying.

And that’s that.

“Mrs. Hadley?” Pixie stabs her hand in the air, waving her arm frantically.

“What is it, Courtney?”

“May I have a pass to the ladies’ room?”

Mrs. Hadley checks the wall clock. “The period’s almost over. Can’t you wait five minutes?”

Pixie shakes her head violently, scrunching her face in agony.

As soon as Mrs. Hadley turns to retrieve the girl’s room key, a key that dangles from a block of wood with the room number wormed into it, Pixie winks at me and collects her things.

“Here you go.” Mrs. Hadley motions for her to come to the front of the room.

“Catch you tomorrow,” Pixie says into my ear, “when you can tell me all about it. Bon appétit!” she adds in a strange, high-pitched voice.

I regard her blankly.

“Like Julia Child. You don’t know Julia Child?”

“Is she a sophomore?”

Pixie giggles. “Gawd, girl. You have so much to learn.”

I see him before he sees me. Light brown hair, fine like my own, but his is slightly wavy. Eyes that light up an open face, with a smile that tunnels under my skin as if I’ve bitten off a piece of the sun and the warmth now lives inside me.

I reckon I sound like a goober, but there aren’t enough words to describe the pull. It’s like Nessa’s magnets. Indigenous. I think of the men in the woods. But somehow, Ryan stays Ryan. I remember what Delaney said in the kitchen, before things got so emotional.

“Girls like you have to be careful, you know“

I rinse Jenessa’s plate, licked clean by Shorty when Melissa wasn’t paying attention.

“Girls like me?”

Does she mean the woods?

“You know you’re gorgeous. There’ll be lots of guys liking you for how you look.”

My face heats up, thinking of guys liking me at all.

“Believe me. Been there, done that. Don’t let it go to your head. High school boys are all about one thing: getting into your pants. You’ll see.”

I stare at her, horrified. The men in the woods were bad enough. Not boys, too.

Not Ryan.

I smile as he catches sight of me.

Why does he like me? Because it’s obvious he likes me. Is it because I’m new? Is it the violin? Could it be like Delaney said?

All of a sudden, I’m unsure. What am I doing? I think of Delaney and Mama’s note. I think of the circles burned into my shoulder and the white-star night, which makes my stomach jump. It’s strange how those times feel realer than here, no matter how many days lengthen the distance between then and now.

I keep my eyes on Ryan’s, touching my violin case reflexively. I see relief flood his face, as if he wasn’t sure I’d show. He meanders in my direction while smiling hello at students along the way. I slide down into the study carrel. What am I doing?

I know nothing about boys and whether they like me, let alone how to handle girls like Delaney, especially if she tells people about the woods. I’m playing with fire, and I know what happens when people play with fire. I mean, I wouldn’t even know what study carrels were if the sign—NO FOOD OR DRINK ALLOWED IN THE STUDY CARRELS—wasn’t posted on the wall above me.