The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things(56)

“This is so weird,” he says, shaking his head.

I shrug. “It’s a small school.”

“Better than getting shoved around on a daily basis,” he decides.

With a quick kiss, he darts off to his next class since we only have math together. He has to work tonight, and I don’t, so this will give me a chance to catch up on homework. So I think, until I find Lila waiting at my locker after school. Today she’s a goddess in black; nobody should make leggings, boots, and a belted sweater look that good.

“You ditched me at lunch yesterday.”

“It was just a bad day.”

“I ended up sitting with Shane, your freshmen, and those random sophomores.”

“Sorry. Want to hang out today?”

“I’m pissed at you.”

“So that’s a no?”

Her scowl eases up. “Just don’t do it again. I want to hear about it if you’re having a shitty day or fighting with Shane.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. I’d like to say that’s a lucky guess on her part, but I’ve made no secret that I think he’s awesome. So I just nod. “Come over. My aunt’s making soup.”

“You think it’s that easy?”

I grin. “I hope so. I’m not in the mood for drama … and besides, remember how happy it makes your mom when you hang out with me.”

“That’s true. She gives me forty-six percent less shit these days.”

“You did the math?”

“Obviously. Let’s go.”


She rides on the back of my bike again, and I pedal over to my place. If we keep doing this, I’ll lose weight, hopefully in my butt. I don’t have the chest to spare. We hang out in the living room because my aunt isn’t home yet. We’ll probably migrate once she gets back.

“I’m trying to decide why you live with Gabby,” Lila says.

It’s not what I expected to hear. “My parents aren’t around anymore.”

“Like…” I can see her trying to find a tactful word. “Passed on?”

I nod, grateful that she’s too uncomfortable to pursue this line of questioning. She’s curious if it’s a recent loss, but afraid of making me feel shitty. Good thing she’s a nice person. Otherwise, she’d definitely be digging to find out why I’m an orphan. God, that’s such a stupid word. It conjures visions of pasty-faced children in Victorian clothes with tin cups, dining on gruel. The reality is depressing in a different way.

“So what do you wanna do?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Homework, if you can talk and write at the same time.”

“I can manage. Wait, let me call my mom. She likes the new, improved responsible me.”

While she dials, I make popcorn. I hear snatches of conversation over the ping of hot kernels hitting the lid of the pot, and Lila sounds slightly annoyed. There’s a lot of sighing from her end, anyway.

“Everything good at home?” I ask, coming back to the living room.

“Yep. Speaking of which…” She sighs. “Would you mind coming over to prove you exist? I swear my mom is starting to think I’ve hired someone to play my friend on the phone. Plus, I need to repay the times I’ve come to your place. My mom’s cooking isn’t as healthy as your aunt’s, though. Butter is her best friend.”

I laugh. “Sure, when?”

“Tomorrow night, after Green World.”

“Are you sticking with it?” I’m doubtful, even though the meetings have gotten bigger and more productive lately.

This week, we’re planning a recycling drive. We still need to agree on a drop-off point … and convince the school to let us include the event in the morning announcements. I don’t know how many people will bother, but I intend to talk to my social studies teacher about offering extra credit if they do. The class is supposed to teach us to be responsible, right?

“It’s better than spirit squad. And I need a few meaningful activities on my college apps or my parents will never shut up.”

I open my backpack and dig out my math notebook; it seems best to start with the worst of my assignments. “Well, I know it’s not most people’s idea of a good time. But it’s more entertaining when you’re around.”

“Everything is.” Lila tosses her hair like the especially vapid girls do when they’re trying to attract some guy’s attention.

Which reminds me.

“Are you ever going to tell me exactly what happened with Dylan?” It’s a non sequitur, but anything I can learn about him might help me later.

She frowns, chewing on her pencil so that she leaves neat rows of teeth marks in the yellow paint. By the look of the wood, this isn’t the first time. “That’s ancient history. Why?”

“He hassled me after work last night.” I figure it’s safe to tell her that much. “I was just wondering how bad is he really?”

How seriously should I take his threats?

“That *,” she snarls. “Did he scare you?”

“He tried to.”

“If he’s screwing with you, then I guess I owe you the full story. But I expect some Shane gossip afterward to wash the taste out of my mouth.”