My classes blur together, until it’s time for geometry. Despite my emotional turmoil, I resolve to pay closer attention, except there’s no point. Because Mackiewicz slaps a pop quiz on the front desk in each row.

He’s smiling; that’s never good. “Let’s see how well you can apply these theorems.”

Right. The day only needs this.

The quiz is OMG-hard, so that means I’ll soon have another circled F. Awesome. Even failures should have a friend. I’m sure when I explain to Aunt Gabby that I only failed the second quiz for symmetry, she’ll be good with it. I read over both pages, but it makes no sense to me, so I wind up writing nonsense in trying to “show my work.” For all the good this quiz will do me, I might as well be doodling penguins all over the paper. When I walk out at the end of the period, I hear the doom song from Star Wars in my head—and that’s totally Ryan’s fault. Before I started hanging out with him three years ago, I didn’t know Han Solo from Luke Skywalker.

“Tough one,” Shane says.

Huh? I’m faintly astonished that he hasn’t bolted in trying to beat the jocks acting like they aren’t waiting for a chance to screw with him. I could’ve told him there’s safety in numbers, but he seemed to be in full-loner mode. Maybe he wouldn’t have listened. But he’s here now. Talking to me.

“Yeah. I’m not dumb, swear to God, but this stuff…” I trail off.

“He just doesn’t explain it well.” Shane tilts his head toward Mackiewicz’s classroom.

The man’s got tenure and he’s coasting. He gives us pages to read, rambles for an hour about Pythagoras, and then expects us to figure this stuff out from the text.

“You mean at all,” I mutter.

“If you’re struggling, I could help you.”

I’m surprised speechless.

Misreading my silence, he goes on quickly, “I know I don’t look like a math geek, but—”

“When?” I cut in. “I work Monday and Thursday afternoons.”

“And you have your green thing on Wednesday night.”

I’m ridiculously thrilled he remembers. “I’m not sure if I’m continuing with that.”

He falls into step as I glimpse the jocks already moving down the hall. They don’t have long attention spans, so they’re probably thinking about lunch or the next kid who needs to be taught a lesson.

“How come?”

I shrug, not wanting to get into it.

But he does, apparently. “I heard you broke up with your boyfriend. Is that why?”

We’re outside the cafeteria, other students pushing to get their tater tots. I consider letting the lie stand because it makes me sound cooler, less stupid, but if I’m mad at Ryan for lying, then I can’t start that way with Shane. Because gazing up at him now, just glimpsing the magic of his eyes through his tousled curls, I want this to be the start of something.

“Eat lunch with me,” I say then. “And I’ll tell you about it.”

Not everything. I won’t betray Ryan’s secrets, but I want Shane to know I’m not on the rebound; it’s not like that. It’s knottier and more complicated in some ways, but in others, it’s dead simple. I’ve been looking Shane’s way since he strode into my geometry class.

He hesitates. “I usually hide out behind the school.”

“With the burners. Do you smoke?” It’s a general question, but I mean weed more than tobacco. In my opinion, either is gross.

“No. Can’t afford it, even if I wanted to.”

“Do you?” I ask, joining the end of the lunch line.

“Sometimes. It might be nice not to care.”

Being numb is good for a while, until it’s not anymore.

“They’re fooling themselves,” I say. “It’s better to deal with your shit head on. Life doesn’t get better if you look away.”

Shane swivels his head sharply toward me. “No joke. Sometimes you absolutely have to stare it down.” But he seems astonished I know that.

Yeah, I’m full of surprises.

Waiting in line doesn’t offer the usual annoyance because I’m standing with Shane. But there’s going to be an awkward moment soon; the way he dresses makes me suspect that there’s not a lot of spare cash at home. So I put a few extra things on my tray, food I’m pretty sure he’ll eat, and pay the cashier. He’s frowning as he follows me to the table. Not the one I usually sit at with Ryan and the rest of the eco crew. Farther down, there are some random sophomores, but they won’t tell juniors like us to screw off.

“You don’t eat meat,” he says, staring at the burger.

I’m shocked he remembers me mentioning it at the Green World meeting. “This hardly qualifies. It’s probably eighty-five percent soy anyway. But it’s not for me.” I slide the paper plate toward him.

Shane shakes his head. “Thanks but I’m not hungry.”

“It’ll make me feel weird to eat alone. Plus, I can’t afford to pay you to tutor me. The least I can do is get lunch now and then.” A guy’s pride is a delicate thing—I know enough from dealing with Ryan not to say more.

I just start eating. A few seconds later, he digs into the un-delicious burger, as if he was damn near starved. I down a few more bites of limp salad before saying, “I guess I promised you a story.”

“Somewhat.”

The sophomores can’t hear us down the table, as it’s loud in here, but I pitch my voice low just in case. “Basically, Ryan was never my boyfriend. He just let people think we were together. Because I’m an idiot, I didn’t guess why.” Those last words come out bitter.

“So why did he do that?” I hear all kinds of nuances in his voice, questions, doubts.

Here’s where it gets tricky. “It’s complicated. He lied to me, though, and that’s what I can’t just get over. Maybe someday we’ll be friends again, but for now…” I shrug.

“Friends?” he repeats.

“Yeah. Friends.”

“So he didn’t break your heart.” He sounds relieved.

“Did you want him to?”

“I was afraid he had. That maybe you were talking to me…” His eyes cut away from mine.

“Because I was trying to make Ryan jealous? Not my style.”

I want to say, OMG, Shane, you think I’m a dude magnet? I’ve been Ryan’s sidekick, his not-girlfriend so long, that I have no idea what this is or what I’m doing. But I love it.

“I’m not looking for drama,” Shane tells me.

I understand the reason for the pronouncement immediately. Ryan’s watching us from across the cafeteria, but he won’t be shoving Shane into any doorjambs or cornering him in the boys’ toilet. In some ways, his silent, wounded eyes are worse. I can tell he feels horrible and that he misses me, but what am I supposed to do? After what I’ve learned, I don’t want to be his girlfriend, which is what he was shooting for when he made his big confession. I feel like I hardly know the guy, and that hurts most of all.

“There won’t be any.”

“I just … I can’t afford any trouble,” he says softly, not looking at me. “Any more, and I’m off to juvie until I’m eighteen.”

Possibly he thinks this will scare me off. But I have my dark side, too. The staff at the group home pulled me off an emotional ledge years ago, so I know what it’s like to feel completely out of control, doing stuff you know deep down is a terrible idea and yet you cannot stop. I study the rigid line of his shoulders. “Did you put that Post-it on my locker?”

He’s dead silent, but his eyes answer where his lips do not. I see the yes written in aquamarine.

In this moment, I want to kiss him so bad it hurts.

CHAPTER SIX

I don’t, of course.

This is still the JFK lunchroom, and I’m not that brave. In the end, I let him get away with not answering. It’s enough that he’s here with me and not hiding out with the burners. I finish my food, just shoveling it down, so I can say I did. I’m too nervous to enjoy the salad, especially with Shane studying me so intently. I’m suddenly worried I have lettuce in my teeth.