Page 3

Two
Conner
I like her handwriting.
It’s not like some of the other girl’s handwriting I’ve seen. All squat and bubbly. Looped tails. Hearts dotted over letter is. Like it’s trying too hard to be something it’s not.
Henley’s handwriting is nothing like that. It’s clean. Neat and well space. Each letter-sized perfectly. Efficient. Precise.
She pays attention in class. She raises her hand when the teacher asks questions and answers them correctly. She doesn’t gripe about how she didn’t have time to study for tests. She takes notes and comes prepared.
She ignores me and avoids me like the plague.
I’ve tried to talk to her a few times after class but as soon as the bell rings she bolts out the door like she’s running the 50-yard dash.
“What are you doing?”
I shoot my brother, Declan, a dirty look. He’s lying on my bed, tossing a baseball into the air, seeing how close he can get it to the ceiling without actually hitting it.
“Homework, douchewad,” I say, the dirty look on my face deepening into a scowl. “You should try it sometime.”
Unfazed, Declan just laughs. “Since when do you do homework?”
“Since now.” I wish he’d get the fuck out and leave me alone. He’s always been an asshole, but tonight he’s been especially dickish.
“You’ve been staring at the same piece of paper for ten minutes,” he says, a smirk aimed at the ball he just tossed. “I started to worry you were having a stroke.”
“Fuck off,” I say, giving Henley’s notes a careful fold up the middle before tucking them in my book. “What the hell are you doing in here, anyway?”
“What were you doing with Henley O’Connell today?” he says, tossing the ball in his hand.
“Nothing,” I answer, shaking my head, jamming my textbook back into my backpack. “I needed to borrow her note from math class.”
“Bullshit,” Dec laughs. Tossing the ball in the air, he shoots me a quick, sideways look. “You needed to borrow her notes about as much as I do.”
“You don’t take calculus,” I say, irritated with him.
“Neither do you, Einstein,” he says around a laugh. “Why do you even bother pretending?”
I turn in my desk chair and glare at him. He’d never understand so why bother explaining? “Can you get the fuck out of my room, please?”
“Tell me why you were talking to Henley today,” Dec counters, giving the ball a final toss and catch before sitting up. He swings his legs over the side of my bed, planting his feet on the floor, facing me. “The real reason, not the same bullshit you fed her.”
What am I supposed to say? That I saw her walking ahead of us, skinny shoulders bowed under the weight of her backpack, head bent under the insults Jessica and her dumbass friends were peppering her with and I… what? Wanted to help her? Make it better, somehow? Save her?
I don’t even know.
All I know is that watching it happen made me feel shitty and watching Ryan do nothing about it pissed me off. Before I knew what I was doing, I was walking beside her. When she looked up at me, her face tight and suspicious, demanding to know what I wanted, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. The only thing we have in common besides her brother.
Declan’s right. I don’t need Henley’s calculus notes. I asked her for them because the truth was too weird to say out loud.
I just wanted to walk with her. Maybe talk to her a little.
“Those bitches were harassing her,” I say, giving Declan a haphazard shrug. “I got tired of listening to it.”
“So, you felt sorry for her?” he says to me, looking at me like I might have some sort of contagious disease.
“No, I like her,” I say, giving my head an impatient shake. “Now can you get out?”