I know he hates Ollie, so his curiosity is out of place but maybe he’s asking to avoid running into my cold, mean ass brother. I don’t blame him. Most of the time, I avoid him too.
“Some camp for geniuses,” I say, and he relaxes into the cushions.
“Oh.”
“Did he…do something?” I ask hesitantly and Matt averts his gaze.
Immediately I regret asking the question when the tips of his ears turn red, but I can’t take it back. And I’m on the verge of apologizing or changing the subject when Matt clears his throat and says, “Naw, not really. Just stupid stuff.”
The air feels heavy after my thoughtless question and nodding, I turn back to the movie, but the remainder of the evening is weirdly awkward, and I note when Matt leaves later that the hand clenched at his side never unfurled.
∞∞∞
On Friday afternoon, Harriet and I enter the gym for the dreaded assembly. I’ve yet to come to terms with Dixie’s death. Although we often were at odds over her reckless behavior, I loved the little dynamo with a free spirit and fierce loyalty. Now she’s gone and a piece of me is missing.
With a sigh, I sit down next to Matt while Harriet joins Bone behind me.
At least for once the assholes in this place are appropriately subdued, trailing in with somber expressions. I guess death has a way of reminding you of your vulnerability if nothing else.
Idly, I scan the masses, noting Sabrina who skulks in behind two freshmen and sits to the side. With Jensen gone, she’s public enemy number one. Does she regret the shit she pulled to get where she was? To her credit, her head is high, but I see her scanning the bleachers until she lands on the cheer team before her shoulders slump, and she bows her head.
Of course, as soon as Diem appears, I’m drawn to him despite the masses that camouflage his presence. I guess, it’s hard to miss two-hundred pounds of pure muscle, though.
He’s wearing his typical attire of track pants and T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off.
I asked him once why he did that, back when he was still talking to me that is and with a sexy tilt of his head, he grabbed me up and proceeded to swing me around, proclaiming it was becausethe chicks dig it.
I don’t disagree. He’s physical perfection which should be off putting but the scars marking his skin somehow even out the pretty.
When Matt shifts beside me and I feel his leg brush mine, I look away, tracking Diem out of the corner of my eye. He gazes over the crowd with a smirk, nodding at Trey who says something as he passes by.
Assuming he’ll sit with his new crew, I freeze when his head swings in my direction, and he starts up the bleachers. To my utter disbelief, he steps over the people down my row before glaring at a freshman seated to my right. The freshman scatters and he plops down, forcing me to scooch over.
Matt moves out of the way with an icy frown leaving me sandwiched between him and Diem while I stare at the principal dumbly.
Why is he sitting here?
While Principal Carhart steps up to the podium and taps the microphone, Diem places his hand on my leg and smooths it up and down my thigh.
I can’t suppress a tiny squeak and when he chuckles low in his throat, molten waves soar through me. It’s all I can do not to open my legs wider. Only hundreds of other students and my broken dignity keep me in place, but I’m not proud to admit, it’s a near miss.
With a shake of my head, I focus on the principal with gritted teeth and pull my leg away.
Thankfully, Diem settles, and I semi relax, while the principal drones on. “...sad news about one of our very own students. I’m sure you’ve seen the news reports and we wanted to offer you the support you need during this troubled time.”
Glancing through the gym, my gaze lands on my dad, who’s staring intently into the crowd. I tilt my head to scan the rows below, but I can’t see anything amiss.
As though he senses my stare, he looks up and smiles, but the affectation slides off his lips when he moves to Diem beside me. His brows furrow and I search his troubled eyes before he turns away and I look back to the principal.
“Our counselors have posted open times for any students who want to come in and talk. We’ve arranged for mental health professionals from another agency to support us during our need. Those counselors will also have open times for students to sign up.”
I’m not aware of my clenched fist until Matt grabs my hand in his and curls his fingers through mine. Surprised, I glance at him through my lashes, but his attention is centered fully on the speech before us.
“In the wake of this tragedy, we’re postponing prom.”
An audible groan rises in the room, and I glance around with a frown. Dicks. They’re worried about prom when someone died.
“Yes, yes, I know,” Mr. Carhart says, waving his arms in the air. “And now a few kind words from Mr. Goodlow, who remembers Dixie fondly.”