Underneath the Sycamore Tree(6)

I gape at his blunt statement.

Rach, presumably Rachel, glares. Giving me a quick once over, she rolls her eyes before glancing back at him. “You don’t have to be a dick, Kaid. I’m just telling her what happened.”

He leans forward. “Funny, you didn’t seem to mind me being a dick earlier when you begged me to screw you in the locker room.”

Her cheeks turn pink.

…and so do mine.

Clearing my throat, I sink into my seat and pull out a notebook to doodle in until the bell rings. Kaiden and Rachel leave me alone, though their staring contest doesn’t go unnoticed by me because Rachel looks like she wants to stab him with the pen she’s holding.

When the bell chimes, I stuff my belongings back in my backpack and stand up. Everyone files out of the room in fifteen seconds flat, ready to leave for the day until they’re forced back tomorrow. Kaiden hangs behind, which seems suspicious to me. Reluctantly, I walk over to where he stands by the door with crossed arms.

“Your shoes are hideous,” he states.

Glancing down at my Toms, I click my heels together. After a few seconds, I lock eyes with him again. “So is your attitude.”

He grins. “Ready?”

His lack of denial is semi-endearing. At least he knows it, accepts it, and doesn’t pretend he has manners. Although, it may be nice not to be on the receiving end of his insults.

He nudges my shoulder as we walk down the hall. “Don’t look so sad. I’m like this with everyone. Can’t play favorites just because your dad is boning my mom.”

I stop and stare at him.

“What?”

“You’re…blunt.”

“What’s the point of bullshitting?”

I’m not sure.

“Way I see it, we’re stuck together. I’m not going to hold back what I think to save you from getting your feelings hurt.” He starts walking, causing me to follow close behind. “If it makes you feel better, I told your dad the same thing. He’s not my biggest fan.”

“Seems mutual,” I murmur.

He grins again. “Doesn’t seem like you’re his biggest fan either from what I’ve seen.”

I don’t answer.

“Daddy issues can be hot.”

My eyes narrow. “Stop talking.”

He chuckles and shoves the front doors open, not bothering to hold them for me as I quicken my pace to catch up to his long strides.

The students that hang around talking and joking in the lot don’t spare us a glance. It’s like outside the high school doors, Kaiden is a different person and everyone knows it. And me? I’m no one.

Our ride home is in blissful silence.

When we get there, he ignores everyone.

The week goes by in welcome monotony. Most people wouldn’t like living the same routine, but I find it peaceful. There were too many days in my past that I couldn’t predict.

Would I be able to get out of bed?

Could I go to school?

Would I be able to make it throughout an entire day without tearing up because my body aches so brutally?

Chronic illness gives little wiggle room for peace of mind. Having “good” days doesn’t mean the pain isn’t there, it just means that it’s not as noticeable—like a limb that’s sort of falling asleep but still functioning. Days where I have energy can end abruptly for no reason other than fate playing games with me.

Like oncoming hip pain that feels like you continuously slammed your hipbone into a wall. Or finger pain that feels like you’ve shut your fingers into a door until they’re so swollen you can’t straighten them. I’ve nodded off in the middle of a class more times than I can count, not because the material is dry, but because my body is tired of fighting its own cells. Inside the sad shell of my agonizing existence is a battlefield, and I’m on both sides holding trigger-ready guns waiting for the bullets to leave the barrels.

Yet, I feel lucky. I’m still breathing.

There are a few girls who sit by me at lunch that also share classes with me throughout the day. Sometimes they’ll ask me questions, but usually they leave me alone and talk about the teachers and classmates, like Mr. Nichols and Kaiden. Thankfully, I don’t think they know who I am to Kaiden. I’m sure they’ve seen me get out of his car, even sure I’ve seen a few guys stare and make jokes when Kaiden leaves me behind as soon as the ignition is off.

Nobody says a thing about it.

Knowing that people view him as Exeter High royalty, thanks to one of the lunch table inhabitants, makes it better that they don’t associate us. Then again, it’s a smaller school. Dad told me it only has a little over eight hundred students total, which means that it’s not much bigger than my old district in Bakersfield. We may live in an urban area, but it’s not big enough to keep secrets for long. Not when Kaiden is involved.

Like when one of the girls gives me the briefest looks before leaning into her friends and mentioning some person named Riley. I don’t know who he is, but apparently he no longer attends Exeter. Why they look at me in relation to him, I have no interest in asking. If they wanted me to know, they would have included me in their conversation.

On Friday afternoon, Mr. Nichols asks me to stay behind while everyone else leaves the room. Mentally, I go through a list of possible reasons. I turned in homework, did the readings, and even participated twice in class. I’ve done nothing warranting trouble.