The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things(31)

“Thanks.” I finish up my tea and lean down to hug her.

When I pick up my backpack, I can feel that it’s vibrating. I don’t let on as I carry the bag down the hall. Once I’m in my bedroom, I pull out my cell and check. Four texts from Ryan. Before I read them, sadness suffuses me. Even after I forgive him, things will never be the same between us.

Text one: its been a rly long time since i felt this bad Text two: i miss u, i hate this Text three: so do u like him?

Text four: just tell me what to do That’s the problem; I have no idea. But my aunt’s words echo in my head, and I work my thumbs over the tiny keypad on the phone. Once I type the reply, I hesitate before hitting send.

i dont know

His answer comes so fast that he must’ve been watching for a possible reply. at least ur talking to me again, thats a start I leave it there because I don’t know what else to say. After plugging in my phone, I head to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Peering closer, I see that my cheeks are positively aflame with new freckles from the lot cleanup. Awesome. I spit and rinse, exhausted by this point.

Unlike some nights, I have no trouble whatsoever sleeping, which means I wake up late. I get ready in a hurry, then gulp a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruit. Aunt Gabby is running around with one shoe, but I don’t have time to help her look for it. I aim a kiss at her, but she darts off, so I only hit the back of her head. Close enough.

“I’m gone,” I call, grabbing my phone and my backpack.

My bike is in the shed around back, so I run for it. At this point I’m not even sure if I match, but hopefully, the outfit’s not horrible. I grabbed the first three things I found in my clean laundry basket, so this could be interesting. I pedal like crazy for the first mile, and then—because I’m tired—I slow down. If luck’s with me, I made up enough time so I won’t catch a tardy.

When I coast into the parking lot, a few people are still milling around, but not many. So the warning bell’s already rung, leaving me about a minute to get to class. No time to stop at my locker, but I have everything I need in my backpack. I go through the hall at a dead run, ignoring the teacher who yells at me. I manage to dive into my chair as the second bell rings.

With a start like this, I figure the day’s going to suck.

Only it doesn’t work out that way. Classes are fine; or at least, I don’t get in any major trouble. I sit quietly, turn in homework when requested, and once, I even make eye contact with Ryan and give him a half nod. He still looks exhausted and sad, and I don’t notice anybody who looks worse, which makes me feel good. So I leave him a Post-it on his locker; I can’t tell him he’s everything, but …

You tell the best stories.

He’s already reading it as I pass by. I don’t know what he expected to see, but he seems happy I reached out. Maybe forgiveness won’t take as long as I thought. I’m smiling when I get to Mackiewicz’s class, where I get my quiz back … and it’s a C+. I can’t wait to show Shane. He’s already looking at me expectantly, so I flash my paper, and a huge grin spreads across his face. The bruises are fading, finally, so he’s even better looking in that quiet way.

Once we’re in the hall, he says, “I knew you could do it.”

“It never would’ve happened without you.” Before I can think better of it, I spring onto my toes to kiss his cheek.

Shane stills. I don’t know what he would’ve said because Dylan Smith shoulders him as he swaggers out of the classroom, just in time to catch the kiss. “You dated Dorkenna for two years, and this is what you dump him for? Even you can do better, Princess.”

“What’s it to you?” I ask. “Unless you want to date me. If that’s the issue, it’s not happening. So move on already.”

He laughs. “In your dreams, fat ass.”

That’s such a lame insult that it doesn’t even bother me. I gesture in response, and Dylan doesn’t know his history well enough to understand what I just invited him to do. But when I turn to Shane, his expression says he’s about to go nuclear. Quickly, I take his hand and pull him away, before he can use that balled-up fist. A quiet thrill ripples through me; he can put up with any abuse these guys offer, but the minute they start on me? He can’t deal.

“No trouble,” I remind him.

“He shouldn’t get away with treating people like that.” Usually, he’s so low-key, all about blending into the background, but right now, Shane is vibrating with outrage.

For me?

“I don’t care what he thinks. He’s an *.”

As he cools down, we walk to our lockers together, no need to talk about it; in just a few days, this has become the new normal. When he lets go of me to stow his stuff, I realize we held hands all the way here. I have no memory of our fingers lacing together after I grabbed him to keep him from starting a fight with Dylan, one Shane would be blamed for, but it happened. I process that while we continue to my locker, where I dump my backpack and grab lunch. Today I’ve brought enough leftover tacos to feed the whole table. Including Shane. I suspect he’ll guess what I’m up to, but if everyone else is eating them, he can’t complain. I hope. For once, we’re the first ones to arrive, and I start setting the food out. As the others come in, I wave them over before they get in the cafeteria line.