Shuffle, Repeat(59)

The guilt over not telling her the truth—it’s too much.

I run into Oliver in the main lobby between afternoon classes, but he pointedly looks away from me—which makes no sense at all, because I’m the nice one here. I’m on the side of the angels. I’m not a bet-placing, girl-exploiting *.

What. The. Hell.

? ? ?

Shaun grabs me at my locker after school. “Lily and Darbs told me what’s going on,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” He only looks at me, so I spell it out for him. “He drives me to school, whatever. It’s not like we’re really friends.”

A few days ago, it would have been a lie.

Now it’s not.

? ? ?

Third day of the Silent Treatment. Oliver showed up late (for him) and now we’ve sat in stony, awful silence for the last twenty minutes. As we pull into Robin High’s parking lot, I steal a look at him.

Still staring straight ahead.

Still gripping the wheel.

I shake my head and don’t even care when Oliver notices.

Two hours on a bus doesn’t sound that bad anymore.





A week later Oliver apparently has had enough. “It’s none of your damn business,” he says as soon as I climb into the behemoth. He’s staring straight at me, not putting the car into reverse, not heading toward school, nothing. “Yes, taking that bet was a dick move, but I can’t explain it to you. I don’t want to explain it to you. It’s not something you can understand.”

I find my voice. “Being on the receiving end of a jerk is universal. It’s a global experience.”

“You and I live in two different worlds,” Oliver snaps. He leans across the seat, so I know he means business. “And my world might seem stupid to you, it might seem basic and dumb and boring—”

“I didn’t say that—”

“But you don’t know that world.” Oliver glares at me. “And apparently you don’t know me, either.”

But I thought that by now I did know him.

“You could have told me,” I say. “Back at the very beginning, before we were friends. At least then I…”

I wouldn’t have cared. I wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

“You what?” he asks. “What would have been different?”

I stare into his brown eyes, ringed in gray and outrage, and it hits me: nothing would have been different. It’s all one big cruel trick of fate. I could have taken any other road—the one where I stayed with Itch, the one where I took the bus, the one where I didn’t help with the prank—and it wouldn’t have mattered. All those other roads, they still would have led to the same place. I was always going to fall for this boy.

And he was always going to break my heart.

“Fine,” I tell him, because the truth isn’t an option.

“Fine?”

“Fine-I’ll-make-a-concerted-effort-to-stop-judging-you-for-the-bet.” I spit it out all as one word, retreating into the corner of my seat. Trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

“Fine.” Oliver frowns at me. “Besides, there’s something else we need to talk about.”

His voice is still hard and the sound of it jolts my sadness into panic. He’s been mad at me all this time—this whole week—and I haven’t known why. Maybe it was more than a reaction to my anger. Maybe it was something else.

His parents.

Oliver could know about his parents, which would mean he knows I know about his parents, and now he might hate me, and—

“Oliver,” I say, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. He has taken out his phone and is sliding a finger over the screen.

“Here’s the deal,” he says. “It’s not a big thing, so don’t freak out or make a huge fuss, and I definitely don’t want to have a whole conversation about it, but for today—just today—we are going to listen to my music and my music only.” He starts a song—I think it’s Warrant but it’s not one from our playlist—and finally looks at me. “Ainsley and I broke up.”

The news sends my heart racing. Oliver sees me open my mouth—although I’m not sure what I’m going to say—and he hastens to add: “No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

So that’s why he’s been such a mess ever since getting back from spring break.

Oliver backs out of my driveway and heads toward Plymouth. He stares straight ahead, but I’m gawking right at him. He shakes his head. “I knew you’d be like this.” He glances at me and sighs. “Don’t, June. Just…don’t. The only reason I’m even telling you is because I don’t want to repeat your bullshit when you and Itch broke up.”

I turn away and look out my window. Yep, Oliver definitely has the ability to hurt my feelings. Beside me, I hear him shift in his seat, and I wonder if he’s going to say something, but instead, his stupid music blares louder. He’s only turning up the volume.

As I watch the fields blur by, I realize I’m not unhappy only because Oliver’s acting like a douche. It’s because the rules just changed again and I’m surprised by that. No, worse. I’m rattled.

I don’t know how to do this whole friendship/not-friendship with Oliver if he’s single.