Page 91 of Pride High 3: Yellow

She laughed, which dispelled some of the tension, although when she tipped the earrings back into his palm—their hands touching in the process—her pulse picked up again.

“You’ve gotta let me give yousomething,” Diego said, pocketing the earrings. “Name it. Whatever you want.”

Mindy shook her head. “It really is the thought that counts.” And she’d be thinking of this gesture for a very long time to come.

“You’re a tough one, princess,” Diego said. “Hey, did you save any cake for me?”

“There’s plenty at home!”

“Go get it,” he said, crossing his arms again. “I’ll wait.”

Mindy laughed. “I’ll bring you a piece tomorrow. If you’re serious.”

“Maybe. What kind is it?”

She didn’t get a chance to answer, a voice attracting their attention.

“Hey,” Ricky said as he approached. “What’s going on?”

Maybe her guilty conscience was to blame, but she thought his face was vulnerable as he sized up the scene. Diego seemed perfectly relaxed, like there was nothing to hide. And apparently there wasn’t because he told Ricky exactly what had happened. “I tried giving Mindy a present,” he said, “but I went a little overboard.”

“What did you give her?” Ricky asked.

“Nothing. She wouldn’t take it. Hey, I thought you had to go home right after school today?”

“I do, so I only have a few minutes. But I wanted to see you.”

“Cool,” Diego said, pushing himself away from the table. “Want me to give you a ride?”

“Can you?” Ricky asked, his eyes brimming with hope.

“I’ll cover for you,” Mindy said, feeling it was the least she could do to atone for her sins. Even though they were only of the heart.

“Thanks,” Ricky replied, flashing her a half-hearted smile. “What were you going to give her?” she heard him ask as they walked away.

“These.” Diego reached into his pocket and most likely pulled out the earrings for him to see. They were getting too far away for her to tell.

“Really?” Ricky glanced over his shoulder at her, his gaze filled with concern before he turned toward Diego again.

She couldn’t hear what they said to each other next. It was none of her business anyway. Diego might be interested in girls, but she wasn’t interested in guys who were taken. Not that seducing her had been his intent. She was glad he hadn’t tried to hide the truth from Ricky, because she liked them both. As friends. Although she wished she had thought to at least try on the earrings, if only to see Diego’s reaction.

— — —

Anthony became aware, despite how deep into his assignment he was, of a noise like wind blowing through the trees. He redoubled his concentration until the breezy sound was joined by a rolling beat. Unable to focus any longer, he looked up. Mr. Finnegan was seated at the detention room desk while drumming his fingers on the surface, only pausing to sigh again. Then he noticed he had an audience and sat up straight.

“How do you stand it?” his teacher demanded. “This punishment is so inhumane that it’s akin to solitary confinement!”

Anthony laughed. “Honestly? I get so deep into my writing that the hour goes by in the blink of an eye.” This was his second week of detention and by far the most enjoyable, since Graham Fowler wasn’t around. They’d been joined by two other students earlier in the week who had committed some unknown crime. Maybe they’d dared to have a personal opinion that they spoke aloud. Regardless, Anthony had settled into a comfortable rhythm and had gotten the impression that his teacher had too. “Did you finish the book you were reading?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Finnegan said sullenly. Then, with a sparkle in his eye, he raised his hand and said, “Permission to go to the school library, sir? I need to check out a new book.”

Anthony whistled as if this was a daunting request. “I don’t know,” he said in mock sternness. “You’ve been a very bad boy recently. How do I know that you won’t inspire some innocent student along the way? We can’t have everyone thinking for themselves!”

Mr. Finnegan smiled before he took a deep breath and sighed again. “Why is this building always so cold?” His eyebrow shot up, as if an idea had occurred to him. “How would you define detention, Anthony? In the simplest of terms.”

“Having to stay after school,” he replied.

“Which would include the school grounds. As long as neither one of us crosses the street, we would be—technically—well within our rights to go outside and warm ourselves in the sun. What do you think?”