Page 107 of Wrath

“Why don’t you likedonuts, Miller?”

I stuff the donut into my mouth. “You happy?” I ask through the mess of dough and sugar.

“Yep.” He smirks for a second, but he doesn’t look up.

In the car, he turns the radio up and all but ignores me.

“See ya lunch,” he mumbles as he gets out of the Jeep first. He leaves me to lock it. I notice he was in such a hurry, he couldn’t even say “at” lunch. As it happens, I don’t see him at lunch—for the second day in a row.

Bumble has hit his stride with lecturing, so in physics, Ezra and I barely speak; he arrives a half minute after the bell rings and Bumble is still going strong until the last millisecond of class. After school, Marcel walks to the parking lot with us, so he carries most of the conversation. In the Jeep, it’s radio again—this time some bumping rap.

When we get home, I go to my room and don’t come out except to get in Jenna’s car to go to Sonic.

Thursday is the last morning Ezra and I are alone before my mom and Carl get home. I walk into the kitchen to find Burger King croissants set on the island. Bacon, egg, and cheese. I frown at Ezra, sitting at the table just like yesterday.

“How did you know I like this?” I ask, waving at the croissants.

“ESP,” he says, not looking up from his book.

I unwrap one and take a big bite. So damn good and greasy.

“Whatcha reading?” I ask after I swallow.

“Lord of the Rings.”

“What aboutThe Fountainhead?”

“Trash,” he says.

“Harsh critic.”

“Harsh book.”

Damn, I kind of want to read it now to see what he hates so much.

“You didn’t answer me,” I point out, “about the croissant.”

“Lucky guess,” he says.

There’s an apple on the table by him.

“Wait, are you eating an apple? Or a croissant?”

“Maybe both,” he says, not looking up. His tone is hard, sarcastic.

He’s got on a white T-shirt and navy basketball shorts and some white sneaks. His hair looks damp. I know he’s showered because the tub was wet when I got in it.

I can’t help sneaking a look at his muscular legs under the table.

“Thanks for getting these,” I tell him.

“Sure.”

Thursday is just like the two days before. Bass-heavy music on the ride to school. He gets out first and hurries off to...wherever. I guess Coach Nix's office. He's missing again at lunch. I bite the bullet and ask Brennan, who tells me Ezra’s been leaving school for lunch.

"Gettin' them blue Icees," Bren drawls with a grin.

I feel weird as I walk slowly toward physics. Like there's something small and heavy in the pit of my stomach. Logically, I know he’s put the brakes on things with me, but…I don’t know. I guess I still feel hope.

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