“It’s against school rules. Most teachers don’t care, but he can be kind of a dick about that stuff.”

“Great,” I mumble, stirring my mashed potatoes around with the stupid plastic fork.

“Why? What’s the problem? Forget your locker combination?” Alex asks.

I shake my head. “No, I’m just being lazy.”

“Lazy?” Jackson asks. “That thing must weigh like twenty pounds.”

“It’s not that bad.”

He shrugs.

I don’t know if the janitor’s left a note, but what am I going to do? Never open my locker again?

I end up just standing in front of the stupid locker, staring at it like a complete idiot. Finally, when the hall all but clears and I know I’m probably going to be late if I don’t do this now, I spin the dial.

It clicks to tell me it’s unlocked, and I pause again, then slowly open it.

My stomach drops.

The locker is empty.

Okay, not completely empty. It has my other schoolbooks and supplies and stuff. But there’s no note.

Holy crap.

Is it really possible Jackson intimidated the janitor into leaving me alone?

The bell rings and I jump.

Well, so much for not getting into trouble.

I feel nauseous the rest of the day. I should feel calm. Excited. Hopeful. But this seems too good to be true.

The only thing that calms me down is seeing the smile of Jackson’s face when he boards the bus and sees me. His whole face lights up like I’m the best thing he’s seen all day.

God, how I don’t want to lose this feeling.

My hands still shake a little as he sits next to me, and I grab his hand to steal a little of his confidence. We sit there, and his eyes glisten just a little. He squeezes my hand tighter. Is he afraid of letting go, too?

“Your hands are clammy. You okay?” he asks me.

I blink, but then nod. “I’m great.”

For now.

Chapter Thirty

My mother doesn’t stop me from bringing Zara into my room that night, which is good, because I’m not sure what I would do without her.

She tells me to be careful not to let my dad find out. Right now, I’m her daughter, and she wants to be there for me. It should be a good feeling, but all it does is remind me why I can’t open up to her. Not really.

I sit up and read through my old journals while Zara sprawls out on my bed. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I look anyway.

All I find are old pains, memories that leave me feeling even more numb. The beginning of the spiral that brought me here.

What I find the most surprising is that this—this—is my rock-bottom moment. That day that Luis left me in the street, beaten and broken, that wasn’t the worst day of my life—not anymore. Right here, right now. Knowing my past could come back at any moment to slap me in the face and undo everything coming home accomplished.

Jackson stood up for me. The janitor didn’t leave a note. I didn’t even see him today.

Please let that be the end of it…

I finally lie down next to Zara. She was very happy to have the bed all to herself, but she knows it’s me. I guess she loves me. Because yeah, she grunts and huffs as I crawl over her and curl up in the few inches left open next to the wall, but when I stop moving, she shifts closer to me, maybe sensing I need her touch. Next to her, I feel safe. Comfortable.

When I close my burning eyes and channel the things that bring me the most comfort, it’s not Luis I think of. It’s fireflies and stage lights and honeysuckles.

The vibrations of Zara growling startles me awake. I jump up, heart pounding, and hear something tapping on the window. Zara doesn’t move. The hair on her neck doesn’t stand up. She just watches.

I take tiny steps toward the window and peek through the curtain.

I see hazel eyes and thick-rimmed yet sexy glasses. My shoulders relax, and I slide open the window.

Jackson stands there just inches away from me. I’m relieved for an instant, until I see the look on his face. Something’s wrong.

My world crashes. What happened?

“Hey, want to go for a walk?” he whispers. “I couldn’t sleep.”

I swallow down my fear. “Um, I probably shouldn’t tonight.” I don’t explain why, but I’m kind of scared to be out in the dark, even with Jackson. “What’s wrong?” I ask, my tension relieved just a little bit. If he wants to talk, it’s probably not what I think it is.

He shakes his head. “They just make me so mad. The things everyone says about you. It’s not fair. If they just got to know you…”

If he only knew what he was saying. It’s ironic that the people who don’t know me at all are closer to the truth than Jackson.

“Who? People at school?”

He nods.

“People say a lot of stupid things.” I shrug. “No point in getting upset.”

I almost laugh at myself. Jackson’s usually the one so calm about stuff. It’s always me who’s freaking out. What happened now that’s got him upset?

“But now they’re crossing the line,” he says. “Do you know someone put a note in my locker today about you?”

My heart stops. “What?” If someone dumped a bucket of cold water on me right now, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t notice. The hair on my arms stands up, and my stomach drops to my feet.

I realize what happened.

The janitor didn’t leave a note in my locker.

But that doesn’t mean he didn’t leave a note somewhere else.

Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Jackson groans. “I probably shouldn’t tell you. It’s so stupid. Don’t worry, I threw the note away.”

I’m afraid to ask, but I have to know. “What did it say?”

“Anna—”

“Jackson. Tell me what it said.”

He shakes his head. “It said, ‘Your girlfriend’s a hooker. Get the best price by calling her by her real name.’ And then it gave some weird name.”

I swallow. “Exquisite?”

He nods. “Yeah, that’s…” Then seems to realize what I just said. “How’d you know?”

“It’s an old joke…” I improvise. “Bullies in middle school used to call me that. It was the name of a hooker in some movie…”

His fists squeeze together. “It makes me so mad that people do that stuff! It’s not fair.”

“Shhh,” I say, looking behind me to my shut bedroom door, hoping my dad hasn’t heard. That’s one more thing I don’t need right now.

“Sorry,” he whispers, and then he lets out a long breath.

I wish I could let him in. I wish we could cuddle up on my bed and fall asleep together. But it’s not worth the risk of my dad finding out, and I’m not actually sure Jackson would say yes.

“I know you have a past, Anna, but seriously, prostitution? Did they think up the most horrible possible thing they could think of and say, ‘Yeah, that’s what we should call her!’”

“Prostitution isn’t the worst thing, is it?” I ask. My blood drains further from my face. I’m not sure I can stay standing much longer.

“Can you think of anything worse? It’s disgusting!”

I clench my jaw like I’m angry, but I’m not. He’s right. It is disgusting. I’m disgusting.

I can’t breathe. He might as well have slapped me in the face. I kind of wish he had. It would sting less.

Jackson might not believe the truth that’s sitting right in front of him, but he just gave me proof that all my fears are completely legit.

If he learns the truth, if he gets the proof that’s now being hung over my head—he’ll hate me. He’ll think I’m disgusting.

I can’t keep doing this. The lies. The deception. It’s all going to fall apart. No, worse. It’s already starting to crumble.

This is my future, I remind myself. I always knew Jackson was temporary.

“You should go, Jackson,” I say.

“Oh… All right. Are you okay?”

Just one day earlier, his question would have made me feel warm and safe. Except now, his concern just makes me sick. When he learns the truth, will he care about me at all?