Rumor Has It (Rumor Has It #1)(26)

He turns to walk away, and I want to stop him, at least to say sorry. Yes, most of the things I said are true, as far as I know, but still. They were ruthless. But I don’t stop him. I just watch him walk away, his shoulders slumped, and then turn around and lean against the tree. Now that he’s gone, maybe he would show up. But I know he isn’t going to. I wait the entire lunch period for no one to show.

I’m angry and hurt and embarrassed. I’m not feeling one specific emotion, but a torrential downpour of everything. I want to cry, feeling stood up, but I want to yell too. I want to scream at the top of my lungs but know doing that will just draw attention to myself. Who the hell is this guy? Why didn’t he show up?

My phone chirps and a flicker of hope sparks before I check it to see that it's just Jen, wanting to know how it went. The first bell rings to get to our next class, and I text him. I have to know what happened.

Emerald22: Where r u? What happened?





I stare at my phone, anxiously waiting for a reply to come. I never take my eyes off it, as I make my way to history. No response. Turning a corner, I look up to see Carter and Matt standing by the door. It looks like Matt is trying to talk to him, but he’s ignoring him and staring at me. A new wave of regret comes over me. His eyes meet mine, before he looks down, heading inside the classroom.

When I walk into the class, I glance over in his direction, but he isn't looking at me. His eyes are locked on his desk, his phone in his hands. He's probably tweeting about me being a royal pain.

I slump in my chair and pull out my phone again. I know he probably has his on silent, if he’s even bothering to stay in contact with me, but I send him another text.

Emerald22: I don’t understand…

Emerald22: Can you talk to me???





As Mrs. Yanick closes the door, I wait and watch my phone, switching it to silent. But there's no response. Putting it away, my face slumps into my hands, as I stare straight ahead. Trying to act like I'm paying attention, I do everything I can to not unload a downpour of tears.

When I get to art class, I should be excited. Ms. Hales had been speaking to me about our art show coming up, and she's very interested in the three pieces I'm preparing. For the next few weeks, we'll be working on them in class. I have a realism painting of a waterfall and an abstract painting, using our school colors. I planned on doing a self-portrait for my third, but as I wallow in misery, an idea hits me. I'll paint heartbreak. And it's going to be my largest piece, six feet tall and three feet wide. I start by adding the base to the canvas with nothing but shades of blue and gray.

When the bell rings to end the day, I have flecks of paint all over my arms, but don’t bother to clean up. I even have it all over my shirt. It had been one of my favorite shirts, but now I hate it. It just reminds me of today’s terrible experience.

As I trudge along, I make it to Jen’s car; she’s waiting for me inside.

"So?" she says in high-pitched excitement. But as I sit down, it finally all comes crashing out, and tears stream down my face. "Oh no! No, no, no. What happened?"

“He didn’t show up.”

“What?”

“He …” I take a breath, trying to stop the tears, but there’s no stopping them. “I was just there. Waiting. He never showed.”

“Oh no, Emma.” She reaches over and hugs me. “I’m sorry.”

"I texted him, and he hasn't even replied. I don't get it." I look at her for answers.

"Boys are stupid jerks. You know this." She wipes away one of my tears. "He probably forgot or something. He's just an idiot."

“No. I think … I think it’s something else. I don’t think he would’ve just stood me up.”

“What do you think?”

"I don't know." I stare at my fingers, which are now nervously fiddling. "Maybe he did show up, and I didn't see him. Maybe he saw me and—"

“No. Don’t even go there, Emma. He’s an asshole. You’re beautiful. Hell, you’re hot. No, if he didn’t show up, for whatever reason, then he’s a worthless piece of crap.”

A small chuckle comes out as I try sniffing my tears away. “Thanks.”

“Come on.” She starts the engine. “We’re going to get chocolate.”

“What?”

"We're going to Patties, over on Fifth Avenue. That cake place? Chocolate always helps."

I shoot her a weary look, before looking out the window. Somewhere, in the mass of students leaving campus, he’s there. Why didn’t he show up? What happened?

“Okay,” I mutter as she drives away.

The chocolate does help a little, but the hangover of being stood up is still there the next day. I grab my phone in the morning, hoping for some sort of reply or answer. But when my phone shows no new messages, the hurt comes back. This time it's accompanied by anger.

I try to go along with my usual routine, but I'm constantly checking my phone. Endlessly thinking my leg is vibrating, pulling out my cell, only to find no new texts. Lunchtime is a little awkward, as Lana and Micah join us. It's obvious Jen told them, and they have no idea what to say.

“Okay, let’s get it over with,” I say, taking out my lunch.