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“Hmph.” She taps her pencil on the table. “This might take longer than I was hoping.”

“I’m counting on forever.”

“Hey,” she says.

“Hush. I’m sleeping.”

Margo quiets down, but only because class starts. If Mrs.Wilkson hadn’t started talking, I’m sure Margo would find a way to fill the silence. Even though I’ve only known her for a short time, I can tell she loves to talk. If I had to guess, silence makes her uncomfortable.

To me, silence is peace.

And Margo is chaos.

After our teacher stops talking, Margo starts right back up. I drown her out the rest of class, not paying attention to her laundry list of reasons why I should do my part of the assignment instead of making her do it all by herself. The thing is, I don’t need to do the assignment. I’ll ace the test without it, and our tests are weighted. I’ll pass the class enough to graduate, so what’s the point? I’m burned out on trying. It’s never gotten me anywhere before. Everyone wants you to believe doing well in school will make your life better, but I know from experience it’s an illusion.

My phone buzzes, bringing me back to reality.

Laura:

Remember, I’m taking you to visit your grandma after you get home from school.

My stomach twists. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt. A migraine is threatening to settle in, pounding at my temples.

“Are you okay?” Margo asks.

“I’m fine.” I stand, leaving the class again for fresh air. I already have detention today, so threatening me for skipping the rest of class holds no weight.

I barrel down the hallway and into the bathroom. Once safely inside, I splash my face with water because it’s the only thing I can do to stop my head from exploding. I stare at my reflection in the mirror; at the unwanted boy staring back.

CHAPTER TWELVE

MARGO

Impossible is not a word in my vocabulary. I refuse to admit failure until every single avenue has been explored and proven wrong. Sure, Daniel doesn’t know anything about his father, but I have a hard time believing his grandmother didn’t. She had to have known something, even if it’s the smallest possible clue. An outfit. A part of town. I’d even take the guy’s hair color as a clue at this point.

Daniel is no help. I know if I ask him to tell me where his grandma lives, he won’t. Thankfully, I have another in—a workaround.

Olive stands at her locker, taking off her sweater and stuffing it into her backpack.

I lean against the locker next to Olive. “Hello.”

“What’s up?” she asks. She seems like a fun person. She’s bright and cheery, and somehow always seems to smell like vanilla.

“Nothing much. I was wondering if you’d tell me where Daniel’s grandmother lives?”

She laughs. “Why do you need to know that? Following him home wasn’t enough?”

I figured she’d understand, but maybe she needs more convincing. “I’m trying to help him. He told me he wants me to find his father.”

Olive raises an eyebrow. “Really? Those words came out of his mouth?”

I nod.

“Then why don’t you ask him where his grandma lives?”

My gaze shifts. “Well... he hasn’t been very helpful.”

Her smile gets bigger. “Ah, there’s the Daniel I know. He’s just trying to get rid of you.”