Page 52 of This I Know
I work the dial on my lock. I’m not going to look at him. I refuse to buy into this act of his, this act that I’m sure many other girls have fallen for. “What?” I say, still twirling my fingers around the dial.
He leans in. “I asked around about you.”
I swing my locker door toward his face. I pull a book down from the top shelf and stuff it against the crook of my arm. “And what did you hear?”
I finally look at him and those eyes catch me, those dark, bright, hazel eyes, and he gives me a crooked smile. Damn, I shouldn’t have done that.
“All good things,” he says. His shoulder is plastered to that locker, and I suddenly have a feeling I’m not going to get rid of him that easily. Not now, and not tomorrow.
I shut my locker. I slam it harder than I mean to and he jumps.
“Sorry,” I say. But that’s good. Maybe he’ll take the violence as a hint. “And I don’t believe it when you say it was all good things.” I shift my things around in my arms and adjust my purse strap further up onto my shoulder. In case he missed the violence thing, I’m trying to make myself appear super busy.
“Why’s that so hard to believe?” he asks. There’s no joking in his eyes this time, no trace of cockiness. He’s actually interested in what I have to say. That’s a surprise.
I give him a shrug. That’s about all he’s getting from me. “The way people have treated me around here, like I’m some kind of freak, says otherwise. That doesn’t happen with rumors of all good things.”
He unfolds his arms. “People treat you like that?”
“Some people. It comes with the territory.”
He pauses. “Want me to beat them up for you? I will. I’ll risk Mr. Miller’ detention.”
“Please don’t,” I joke back. Then I get a little serious, because this is true: “They don’t know any better.”
He raises his brows. “You think so?”
“Well, yeah. They mustn’t, or else they wouldn’t do it, now would they?”
He knits his brow. “Did your accident make you this wise, too?”
I’m about to correct him – it wasn’t an accident, and we don’t call it an accident. It was an attack, plain and simple. But I let it slide. He’s bold. I can’t believe that after hearing what happened to me, all the nitty gritty details (which, I’m guessing he did,) he’s brave enough to say the wordaccidentto my face. Most people would be afraid of saying something like that to me, like they think I’ll break in half.
I lift my shoulders. “I guess so.” I’m about ready to walk away, but he catches me. I look down at where his hand has gripped my upper arm, then look back up to his face. He’s wearing a kind and concerned expression, his mouth hanging ever so slightly open in surprise, almost as though that split-second possibility of me actually leaving frightened him.
Just as quickly, he snaps out of it. He releases my arm. My skin is left subtly warm from his touch.
“I have to get to my next class,” I tell him awkwardly.
“I, uh – I heard James Connor is having a party tonight.”
I swallow. What does he think he’s doing?
He rubs the back of his neck. “Is there any way you’d … want to go with me?”
I swallow again. “I can’t.” Those are the words that happen to leave my mouth. I’m in such shock over what he just said that I have no control over them. All I can do now is thank my lucky stars my words weren’tAbsolutelyorWhatever you say, Greek god.
“You can’t.” He repeats my words with solemn defeat.
I feel bad for the guy. He must’ve never faced a female’s rejection before; I’m not surprised he’s pouting about it now.
“I mean, I’m planning to go. I was invited a few days ago. I’ll be there. I just can’t go with you, that’s all.” That’s it, Avery. Stick to your guns. Don’t give in. Despite how semi-sweet he’s acting now, youdon’tlike this guy, remember?
He keeps rubbing his neck. “Oh. Are you going with someone else, or–?”
“I’m going with some friends, that’s all. But thanks.” Let’s get real; I’m sure I’ll only be going with Mara. “Maybe one friend. Maybe I’ll see you there.” I get a chance to walk away, and I take it, like I always do when it comes to Ethan, but I feel different now. He’s actually making me feel kind of bad about this whole thing, and I reconsider my answer, even toy with the possibility of turning around.
“Avery.My God,” I hear my mom say before she bursts through my bedroom door. I’m at my desk, working on my last bit of homework before I head out to that party.
