Time (Laws of Physics #3)(79)

I couldn’t sit with the Iron Wraiths kids. They’d most likely let me, seeing as how my father was the Club president, but I couldn’t bring myself do it. Prince King would probably try to do something horrible to get my attention or make me angry, and then Carla Creavers would do something to get Prince’s attention—maybe flirt with Cletus Winston—and then there would be a fight and we’d all get detention.

But I couldn’t sit with anyone else. No one wanted to be my partner for class projects—ever—and I honestly didn’t blame them. Firstly, who would want their kids hanging out with one of the Wraiths kids? Especially not the president’s daughter. Secondly, I was under no delusions about the state of my clothes and appearance. Clothes and appearance in high school are everything, and my nickname since eighth grade had vacillated between Smelly Scarlet or Sweaty Scarlet. It didn’t take a genius to comprehend that none of the “normal” kids would want me sitting at their lunch table.

Another option was the hallway just off cafeteria, but I quickly dismissed this possibility. Principal Sylvester had forbidden students from the corridor during lunch since last month, after Cletus Winston and Prince King had gotten into a fist-fight. Now it was off limits and heavily patrolled.

A noise snagged my attention, the sound of a toilet flushing, and I turned my head toward it. A few seconds later, two girls exited the bathroom, deep in conversation. I lowered my eyes to my bookbag and redoubled my pretend-fiddling while they walked past, paying me no mind. As soon as their voices faded, I returned my attention to the girl’s bathroom door.

Of course!

With my lunch tucked safely back inside my backpack—and the zipper closed—I brought the bag to my shoulder and stood, my decision made easy by the obvious choice.

“What did one toilet say to the other?” I muttered to myself, walking toward the bathroom and answering in my head, You look flushed.

My lips curved at the joke and I chuckled. “You look flushed. That’s funny. Or maybe it could be, you look pooped. Or how about, you look pissed.” The last punchline had me laughing and shaking my head at myself again, muttering, “Good one, Scarlet. I should write that—”

I was so lost in my punchline options that I almost collided with the boy’s bathroom door as it unexpectedly opened, missing a door handle to the groin by jumping backwards and to the side. But my quick thinking meant that my shoulder and chest collided with the boy who was exiting the bathroom, which meant that I fell backwards on my ass.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. As previously noted, this law applies to life, hopes, dreams, expectations, and masses traveling at varying velocities, especially when one of those masses is a huge boy, and the other mass is me.

“Are you—” the boy started, taking a hasty step in my direction, but then stopped speaking and moving just as suddenly.

I froze, a renewed spike of dread in my chest, fighting to keep the grimace from my face, and not just because my tailbone was going to be sore for several days as a result of my graceless fall. I didn’t need to look up to know this boy who’d accidentally knocked me down was none other than the star quarterback of the Green Valley football team, every girl’s fantasy boyfriend, and my secret crush since forever, Billy Winston.

Oh, also? He hated me.

So . . .

“Scarlet,” he said, and then released an annoyed huff, his voice flat. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, keeping my eyes on his feet, waiting for him to leave.

But he didn’t. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, like he was about to leave, but he didn’t.

“Here,” he said gruffly, his tone laced with impatience as he reached out a hand. “Let me help you up.”

Instinctively, I tucked my chin to my chest and sat frozen, heat climbing up my neck and cheeks.

Just leave, I wanted to say. Just freaking go!

A moment passed and eventually his hand dropped. Another moment passed and I heard him exhale a sigh. Without another word, he walked around me, and I listened as his footsteps carried him away, until the sound was swallowed by cheerful cafeteria chatter.

Then and only then did I allow myself to breathe, but I would not allow myself to think about what had just happened.

“No. Nothing happened,” I said. “Nothing happened. I tripped and I fell. He was never here. Nothing happened.”

Almost believing my new version of events, I pushed all those pesky, achy feelings into a dark corner and decided to tell myself another joke.

Still sitting on the floor, I whispered, “What has four wheels and flies? . . . A garbage truck.”

It was one of my favorites and usually made me laugh, or at least smile. But not today.

** END SNEAK PEEK **