Page 20 of Science Project

I shrugged and tilted my face away so he couldn’t see my blush. “About all of it.”

After a long and tense pause, he gazed down at the tiled floor and shuffled his shoes, again pulling his already-oversized shirt away from his abdomen—the way Mom used to do after Dad would bully her for the belly fat she could never lose from childbirth.

But Akio didn’t have an ounce of belly fat.

“You don’t have to try to make me feel better,” he said, turning toward our science class.

“I’m not trying to make you feel better.”

“That’s what it seems like.”

“Why can’t I apologize to you because I’m remorseful?”

“Because.”

After shaking my head because I still didn’t understand, I said, “Because why?”

Grasping the handle of the classroom door, he paused. “Because I don’t blame you.”

“What does that mean?”

Again, another pause. “You don’t have to worry about it, Nicole.”

“Worry about what?”

He slipped through the door. “Any of it.”

CHAPTER

TWELVE

AKIO

“Akio, you’re late,” Mr. Woodward said from the board.

Keeping my head down, I scurried into the classroom and muttered an apology. My usual seat was taken by a girl named Piper, so I quickly walked to the back and sat in one of two open seats next to each other.

My pants began buzzing from the phones shoved into each of my pockets. I discreetly pulled them out and stared down at Joe Santos’s phone, which had been lighting up all morning with messages from Mom’s business partners.

But this message was different. It was directly from my scumbag mother.

Yui: Where are you?

Yui: I need you back at the Sandbox now.

The Sandbox … meaning the beach, one of the places she did business.

Then, my phone buzzed in my other hand.

Mom: We need to talk. After school.

After grimacing at the message, I turned off my phone and shoved it back into my pocket. I didn’t want to know what she wanted to talk about, and I honestly didn’t care. Besides, I had work at the pharmacy after school, and I didn’t have time for her.

A few moments later, Nicole walked into the room with her head held high, not apologizing to Mr. Woodward once and her hips swaying side to side with ease, the way they always did. After marching right up to me, she slid into the seat beside me and leaned closer.

“You told me that I shouldn’t worry,” she whispered. “But you should.”

“What?”

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