I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(62)

I would just avoid the arts wing with Mr. Kirkham’s classroom, and I’d be fine.

I made it to the gym easily enough and hefted the box of stickers and treats onto the table marked with our bank logo on a printed sheet of paper. We were running a national initiative to bring high school seniors into the banks and entice them to work toward joining our ranks once they graduated college. Not sure why corporate came up with this plan, but whatever. It meant getting paid to sit at a table and hand out stickers and candy bars to high schoolers.

“You aren’t set up yet?” Todd asked, sweeping past me to help himself to one of the Snickers bars before plopping down on a folded chair.

I shook out a tablecloth and swept it over the table. “Did you bring the sign-up forms?”

Todd looked at me like I was speaking Spanish. Well, I guess he forgot the sign-up forms.

“I’ll go find something. My sister is around here somewhere. I’m sure she can get me some paper.” I turned to go and paused. “Can you get everything else set up?”

Todd jumped up from the chair with a wounded expression. “What did you think I would do, just sit here?”

Yes. “Of course not. Just coming up with a game plan.”

I pulled out my phone and called Mariah as I left the gym, and she answered on the second ring. “What’s up?’

“I’m at your school for that career fair, and my boss forgot a sign-up form thing we need. Can you get me some paper and pens?”

“Sure. Meet me at the theater?”

“Okay.”

I should have known when I told myself I could avoid the arts wing that I would absolutely end up there by the end of the night. My luck just worked out that way.

My feet remembered the way. I turned around the corner toward the theater and pulled to an abrupt stop. Two kids leaned against the lockers in a total lip-lock, and I skirted around them, doing my best not to look too closely. Teenagers kissing was just gross. They looked too young for that.

I met Mariah at the entrance to the theater down the hall. “Thanks,” I said. I could hear the teens behind me still.

“Ugh, seriously?” Mariah made a half-gagging sound and turned away.

“Do you know them?” I asked, indicating the couple behind us.

She turned, shooting them a glare before settling angry, hurt eyes on me. Oh no.

“Is that Darcy?”

She nodded. “And Hannah.”

I took Mariah’s arm and led her deeper into the theater. “Want to leave with me? You can help me give candy bars to future bank tellers.”

“I can’t.” Her mouth turned down at the corners. “It’s stupid. I just wish he hadn’t made me believe he was into me.”

“I know. Boys are really dumb.”

“Not some boys,” she said, smirking. “I saw you sneak in last night.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “It’s not called sneaking in when you’re an adult.”

“An adult that lives at home?”

My cheeks warmed. She was right. I was old enough to not live off my parents anymore . . . but it had just worked out. Ugh. I did not need to rationalize my choices right now.

“Who’s the guy?” she asked.

“Liam. Vera’s grandson. The one who took me to that charity ball.”

“Seriously? He’s hot.” She raised her eyebrows appreciatively, and I wanted to tell her to cut it out, but I agreed. I didn’t know what I’d done to catch his eye either.

Instead, I just grinned. “I know.”

I took the paper and a few pens from Mariah and thanked her. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No, I’ve got one. I’ll see you later.”

The spit-swappers had disappeared by the time I turned back around. I took my time passing the art room but didn’t dare peek inside. I didn’t need to face that demon right now.

But the door was propped the slightest bit open, and I paused, tempted to go inside. It was dark, so Mr. Kirkham was clearly not there. Maybe I was wrong and what I needed was to stop avoiding it . . . maybe facing the demons was—

“My brother has a new girlfriend, so he’s gone all the time,” a voice said, trailing from the dark room. It was a younger guy, and I recognized it, but I couldn’t place how I knew it yet. I froze, leaning closer.

“So what?” a feminine voice said, challenging him.

“So I think you should come over.”

The girl giggled, and I wanted to jump in the room and tell them to get back to class, but school was clearly over. It was probably the couple from before, hiding from me and Mariah.

The guy’s voice lowered. “I’m telling you, he’s never home. My grandma broke her leg and needs someone at the house all the time, so he’s there every single night until super late.”

I suppressed a gasp. Spike. It had to be him.

The girl—Hannah, no doubt—giggled again, and I wanted to gag. Oh, poor Mariah. This was the guy she was interested in? The one who accepted her date to the dance and turned around and made out with this Hannah chick? Who had the role of Mr. Darcy in the play?

Mariah could do so much better.

“So, what do you say?”

Ew. He was trying to sound sultry.

It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to turn around and walk away, shaking out my arms to remove the icky feeling. No matter how badly I wanted to freak the kids out and jump in between them right now, and then read Spike a lecture on how to treat girls, it wasn’t my place.