Saint Anything(93)

“Sydney.” She cocked her head to the side. “I don’t hate you.”

“You’re not happy.”

“Because you guys snuck around behind my back!”

“How was I supposed to tell you? You said you never wanted to have a friend date him again.”

“No, what I said,” she told me, “was that I’d never again be responsible for bringing someone into Mac’s life who would hurt him. Are you planning to do that?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Good. Then there’s no problem here, other than you guys made me feel stupid. And I hate feeling stupid. You know that.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, then let it out. “But if you do hurt him, I don’t care if you are my best friend, I’ll kick your ass. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” I replied.

Now I got a real smile, and then she was coming over to the counter across from me. “So tell me about this tutor of Spence’s. He claims she’s got the hots for him. True or not?”

For the next ten minutes, until Jenn and Spence emerged from their study room, we talked nonstop. About Mrs. Chatham’s visits to the ER and yet another new medication she was on. How Rosie’s return to training was going, and her hopes of returning to the Mariposa tour. The latest on Eric’s submitting the demo to the showcase—no word yet, but he was wholly confident, as always—and the ongoing band name debate. Then, finally, how Spence’s grounding after getting busted for breaking into his stepdad’s liquor cabinet had made their meetings practically impossible.

“But you’re here,” I pointed out.

“Only after much strategizing, and just for an hour,” she said. “He told his mom he was taking an extra session, so he’s not expected back until five. But he got his car taken away, and I never have any of ours, so we’re at Rosie’s mercy.”

“Or Mac’s,” I said.

She shook her head. “He was never a fan of Spence’s. But after what happened that night at your house, and to you? He’s not doing anything to help him out. Even if it means helping me, too.”

Hearing this, I felt touched and guilty all at once. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “But like you were saying, when you really care about someone, you can’t just stop. Even if you have a good reason. You know?”

I nodded, and then Jenn was coming down the hallway, a tired expression on her face. Behind her I could hear Spence saying, “Lighten up! I didn’t mean it as an insult. I was just saying if you smiled more, you’d be a pretty girl.”

“Just stop talking,” Jenn told him. “Please.”

“Prettier! I meant prettier!” he added, just as he rounded the corner. “Oh! Hey! Baby! You’re here.”

Layla just looked at him, a flat expression on her face. I said, “Um, Jenn, this is Layla. Layla, this is my friend Jenn, from Perkins Day.”

Jenn, ever friendly, stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you finally. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Same here,” Layla replied. They shook. “So. Is he a genius yet?”

“Not quite,” Jenn told her, sitting down behind the counter. “But we have made some progress on vocabulary.”

“Abscond,” Spence said to Layla, sliding an arm around her waist. “That means run away with. You impressed?”

“No,” she said, pulling back.

“What if I buy some fries?” he asked.

“It’s a start.” She sighed, pulling her bag over her shoulder, then said to me, “See you Monday?”

I nodded. “See you then.”

Jenn and I watched them leave, the door buzzing as they did so. They started across the lot to CrashBurger, whose fries I knew Layla rated a seven on her ten-point scale. Good news for Spence. He needed all the help he could get.

At five o’clock, Jenn and I shut down the computers, locked up, and said good-bye. I was standing by my car, digging for my keys, when I heard a horn beep. I turned and there was Rosie, pulling into a spot nearby. When I waved, Mrs. Chatham gestured for me to come over.

“Hi,” I said as she rolled down the window, smiling at me.

“Hi yourself!” she replied as Rosie put the car in park. “What are you doing here?”

“I work at the tutoring center,” I told her.

“Mom, I’m running in the drugstore. You need anything?” Rosie asked.

“Nope. I’ll just stay here and catch up with Sydney.” Rosie climbed out of the car, shutting the door with a bang behind her. “So. How are things at home?”

I wasn’t sure how much she’d been told. My guess, however, was enough so it would make sense as I said, “Complicated.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “How’s your brother?”

“He’s . . .” I trailed off, for once not sure what word to use to describe Peyton. “We were actually talking a little bit. About my mom, and kind of about what happened, as well as some other stuff. Not much, but a little.”

“That’s good to hear.” She smiled at me. “Slow progress is still progress.”