One Small Thing(54)

“Please. I don’t want to go alone,” Scar is saying.

I tear my gaze off Chase and refocus on my friend.

“Yvonne is going away on a school visit and Macy’s got a club volleyball tournament.”

I narrow my eyes. “You hate football,” I remind her.

“It’s not about the football.”

That makes me grin. “Ah, okay. So who’s the guy?”

Her eyes instantly slide away. Since when does Scarlett hide what boy she’s interested in? I’m not sure I like that.

“Really? He’s that shady that you can’t tell me about him?”

Then I shut up because who am I to talk.

“Just come, okay?” she asks quietly.

“Okay.” I capitulate, because if I go to the game she’ll have no choice but to confess who she’s crushing on.

“Yes,” she says happily. “You’re the best!”

She hugs me again, just as Troy and his buddies approach us.

“If you two are going to make out, can I take some pictures?” Troy leers as he walks by.

“You’re so gross.” I move to the side. “You’re sure you want to go to the game?” I ask Scar loudly.

She wrinkles her nose. “It’s not like we’re going to cheer for them. We don’t like losers.”

Troy scowls and takes a step toward us. Chase’s hard frame appears, cutting off Troy’s line of sight. I grab Scarlett’s hand and we book it to class.

“It’s Jeff,” she blurts out when we reach the door.

I look around. “Where?”

“No. Jeff. Jeff is the guy I want to see at the game.”

I’m dumbstruck for a moment. “Jeff? Rachel’s Jeff?” And then immediately regret my thoughtless words when Scar visibly shrinks. “No, wait. He’s not Rachel’s Jeff anymore. I was just...” Wow, I’m kind of like my parents, still keeping Rachel alive in my head. “Jeff doesn’t belong to anyone. Definitely not to anyone with the last name Jones,” I finish.

She peeks at me under long eyelashes. “You’re not mad?”

“No. Gosh no.”

“I thought you might be interested in him, but he said that you weren’t. Like, he was really forceful about it.” She still sounds worried, though.

“He’s right. I’m not interested.” Especially not after he abandoned me at the party.

The thought makes me hesitate. I should tell Scarlett about that, but how? If I say anything now, she might chalk it up to jealousy. Or she may feel even guiltier. Either way, I’ll have to keep it to myself until a better opportunity arises.

“If it’s Jeff you want, Jeff it will be,” I declare, hopefully as forcefully as Jeff denounced me.

Scarlett squeals. “Yay! It’ll be fun. We’ll get dinner at Mixed and then head to the game. We can all meet up at my house afterward. I’ll have my parents call yours.”

“Sounds good.” I try to be cheerful for Scar’s sake, but I don’t know how thrilled I am about her liking Jeff.

When he was dating Rachel, I thought he was the greatest guy in the world. But truth is, I didn’t know him too well. Since he’s come back to Darling, I’ve gotten to know him better, particularly the night of the Lincoln party, and—I have to be honest again—the more I know of him, the less I like.

But I can’t say that to Scarlett, because she looks so excited about this Friday night plan. Also, because Jeff is sauntering our way.

“Hey, hotties,” he says with a wink.

Jeff joins us, slings an arm around both of our shoulders. “Let’s skip out and go to Starbucks for a midmorning snack.”

“We’re not supposed to leave campus unless it’s for lunch,” I remind him.

“Today no one will care,” Jeff promises.

“What a great idea, Jeff,” Scarlett says enthusiastically. A little too enthusiastically for someone who’s agreed to spend too much money for a box lunch with three apple slices, eight grapes and a pita bread the size of your palm. But Scar’s beaming. True love never gets hungry. “Come with us.” She tugs on my arm.

I give in again. “Sure. Why not?”

“Okay. Meet me after Calc. I’m skipping.” He bends over with a hand to his stomach. “Stomach flu.”

He scampers off to the nurse’s station, high-fiving Troy on the way.

“Isn’t he funny?” Scar coos.

True love doesn’t need a good sense of humor.

“Hilarious,” I say and then hurry to the classroom before Scar’s crush requires more lies from me.

We’re ten minutes into AP Calc when the classroom phone rings. Mrs. Russell throws down the dry-erase marker and stomps over to answer. She’s not happy with the interruption. Troy uses the time to throw wadded-up notebook paper at Chase’s back.

“Mr. Donnelly. You need to go to the principal’s office. Your probation officer is on the phone.”

Troy and his friends erupt in jeering laughter.

My stomach drops. How does Chase stand it? My fingers curl into a fist, but I keep my eyes pinned to my desk because if I see even the smallest hint of pain in his face, I’m going to lose it.

Chase leaves, his gait stiffer than normal but his head still high.