Page 43 of Fire Fight

“Always keen to do my part.”

The glances continue as we reach the school courtyard, and my nerves pull tauter with every stare. “Nobody has even lookedmy way before today,” I mutter under my breath, not even sure if Hudson can hear me.

“Maybe that’s because they’re all slow at seeing what I could see the first time we met.”

“Which is?”

He stops to open the door into the main corridor, letting go of my hand long enough to wave me through first, taking it again the moment he catches up to my side. “That you’re the prettiest girl here, and anyone who doesn’t think that is a fool.”

“Sure.” I mean it as sarcasm but the longer we walk through the hallways of the main building, the more boys stare. It sets me on edge more than the Hudson’s flowery praise.

I turn into the corridor, then immediately backtrack.

“Problem?”

“Drake’s talking to Gretchen.”

He’s made no attempt to hide his disdain for my friend and the development fills me with suspicion. Either he’s planning some new torture, or his anger is the disguise for a completely different emotion.

The same jealousy that pitted my stomach at the restaurant recurs now. Even stronger.

Then I shake my head. He’s not that good a liar. “Why would he do that?”

“Um… because they go to the same school?”

I frown until Hudson pushes me behind him. “Want me to check the coast’s clear?” he asks, then sticks his head around the corner as conspicuously as possible, making me laugh until I’m close to crying.

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“Oh, yeah.I’mthe weirdo. Not the boy you live with who likes to smoke weed and sleep in his car.”

“Fine. All males are weird.”

He waggles his eyebrows, and I put my palm flat against his chest in a teasing push.

“You know I could totally take him in a fight. There’s no need to lurk around the corner like you’re scared of him.” He puffs out his chest. “I’ll defend you.”

“And get kicked out of school? I haven’t memorised the school rules, but I clearly remember paragraphs dedicated to violence and how it won’t be tolerated.”

“If I’m not mistaken”—Hudson nods to Drake as he stalks past—“you’re now free to approach your locker. Would you like me to come with you?”

The warning bell for class goes and I shake my head. “I think I’ll survive alone.”

He cups my shoulder for a brief second before striding away, heading for the mathematics block. My first lessons are a Fiction Writing elective, then English, both in the language block on the opposite side of the school.

Gretchen waits at her locker as I approach, but the stiff set of her shoulders makes me wary.

“Good morning,” I say, trying to conceal my worry about what Drake has told her. “Your hair looks fantastic.”

It does. She’s dyed the tips dark blue, and they bring out the highlights in her eyes.

A smile glances across her lips, quickly replaced by a frown. “You told me you hadn’t met Blaine before.”

Is that all?

“Yeah, I didn’t realise. He went by Drake at our—”

“I watched you stare at him through binoculars just after you said it.” She gives a soft snort. “Did he change his appearance as well?”

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