Page 9

Chapter Nine

“Oh, that’s a nice shirt,” Sam says. “Usually, you end up with something weird.”

I look down at it and my cheeks heat with the memory of all the boyfriend thoughts I had. “Yeah, it’s um… Dylan’s.”

Sam leans forward. “Dylan Scott’s?”

I nod distractedly as I scan the lunchroom. I don’t see him. If he had been sitting near us before, he’s moved since. Or maybe he didn’t come back after giving me the shirt. Did he always eat in the cafeteria? Did he ever eat lunch in this room? Who did he sit with? I frown, realizing how little I know about him.

“I told you he was sweet,” Bek says, stacking cheese-flavored chips on her sandwich.

“How did I know you were going to say that?” I drop my head into my hands and rub my forehead.

“Because it’s true.”

I peer at Bek through my fingers. Sometimes I wonder if Bek’s spaciness is all an act to hide her incredible cunningness and her ability to manipulate everybody around her.

“And because Venus is in retrograde,” Bek adds .

I snort. And then she says something like that, and I’m once again convinced my friend occupies another dimension. “Oh, that’s why I’m having such a weird day.”

Sam snorts too. “I see Andrew tonight after school again.”

“Who’s Andrew again?” Bek asks.

“Sushi Guy,” I answer. Then, turning to Sam, I ask, “What are you guys doing?”

“Making out.” Sam waggles her eyebrows.

“Where will you be making out?” I press.

“Oh, we’re going…” Sam slams her eyes closed and whispers, “Miniature golfing.”

I burst into laughter. “You must like this guy a lot!”

“You hate mini-golf,” Bek says. “Why would you agree to go?”

“He offered me a choice between that and bowling.”

I laugh again. “Oh my gosh. Andrew may be an excellent kisser, but if he doesn’t up his date game, he’ll be gone before the end of the week.”

The bell to end lunch period rings and I stand, rubbing my empty belly. Maybe I have enough change at the bottom of my backpack to get something from the vending machines. Probably not though.

The three of us walk down the hall together until we must split off to go to our lockers.

“Have fun at mini-golf!” I call to Sam. We walk away backward, Sam making kissing motions with her lips. I laugh and turn forward, smacking into someone, my forehead taking the impact of an incredibly hard jaw.

“You okay? Oh, Ava.”

It’s Rex Diller. And from the look on his face, he now considers me a psycho stalker. Great. I rub my forehead. “I’m fine. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Sorry.”

He moves to go around me. I blurt, “I’m sorry about the other night, too. I’m such a klutz. It’s really embarrassing. ”

He nods. “Yeah, I know. You’ve apologized a million times. It was just an accident.”

I watch him go, knowing my generic apology does nothing to erase my feeling him up. I blush just thinking about it. I probably wouldn’t easily forgive a guy for blotting my chest dry in front of everyone, even if he was as well-meaning as I’d been.

The halls are emptying out and I still haven’t been to my locker. I race to it and fumble with the combination, getting it to work on the second try. My wet shirt falls to the floor when I fling the door open. I’d completely forgotten about it. I bend to grab it and then whack the back of my head on the corner of the locker door when I stand. Seeing stars, I blink to focus on the books within and grab what I need, tossing the balled-up shirt back in. I slam the door, and run to class, sliding through the door just as the tardy bell rings.

The teacher arches her brows at me but waits for me to take my seat before telling the class what page to open our textbooks to. Heart still pounding from the dash through the halls, I do as instructed but the information on the page doesn’t seem right. There’s more text than usual for a math book. I feel my eyes widen with shock and I slowly close the book.

BEYOND THE FUNDAMENTALS. Literature through the ages.

Oh no! I grabbed the wrong book. I glance up at Miss MacDougal who is already diagramming an alien algebra equation on the board. She’ll never let me go get my book now. I scan the students around me, who look either super engaged or super bored. Teresa Walberg looks like she couldn’t care less about the lesson.

I lean toward her. “Teresa, are you using your book?”

Teresa shrugs and shakes her head.

“Can I borrow it? I grabbed the wrong one. ”

Teresa flips her textbook closed and hands it across the aisle.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

Teresa shrugs a shoulder again and continues doodling.

I stare at the book, unable to remember what page I’m supposed to be on. Was it 182? I compare what is on that page to what MacDougal wrote on the board. No. 281 maybe? I flip to that page and compare the equations. Nope. I’m about to try another page when I see some writing in the margin. It’s in pencil and difficult to see. I lean forward and read; Dylan Scott is a two timing douche bag.

My mouth drops open and I glance at Teresa. I’m pretty sure they’ve dated. Right? Had I heard about it or seen them together? Now I can’t remember for certain. Did Teresa write this note? Who else would have written it?

Turning the page, I find another entry. Lydia Bandweather is a whore.

My brows arch high on my forehead. That’s the sophomore I’ve seen with Dylan a couple of times.

Turning another page, I find a new message. I miss Dylan’s mouth on my — I slam the book closed, my cheeks burning bright pink.

The teacher and a few students turn to look at me. I blush. “I lost the page.”

“Two ninety-three,” MacDougal says, squinting at me before turning back to the board.

I don’t have the nerve to look at Teresa, certain the girl will know immediately I read her messages. Finding page 293, I carefully open the book, already cringing from whatever message I might find on the page. But the page is free from scribbles, which I guess makes sense, since we are just working on the lesson now and I took the book away from Teresa. With a sigh of relief, I try to focus on Miller and her lesson. But my gaze keeps dropping to the textbook, as if expecting a new message to magically appear. Finally, I chance a sideways glance at Teresa, who still looks bored to death.

I flip to the page before.

Dylan Scott makes me hot. Aw, Teresa is a poet. I turn back another page. Dylan Scott has a big —Okay, then. I flip another page. I love Dylan. That makes me feel sort of sad for Teresa. I imagine what it would be like to catch a boyfriend with another girl. I’d be mad and hurt too. I quietly turn another page and I’m back to the message about Dylan’s mouth, so I page back to where MacDougal is actually teaching from.

Because of his reputation, it shouldn’t surprise me that Dylan treated Teresa like crap. Yet, there are the dogs. Why would the dogs like Dylan if he’s the kind of person to callously toss aside another human? I know it’s strange to put so much weight on the opinions of a bunch of animals, but I can’t help it. They are such honest, instinctual creatures.

I look at the board and my eyes widen. What even is that complicated mess? I deflate in my seat and hope Joel doesn’t work tonight because I’m going to need his math skills.