“If I fail, I don’t care,” I said dramatically an hour later, lying back so my head hit the foot of my bed. “Mrs. Lange is not going to keep me from going to college.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Juliet?”
“Hmm?” She flipped through more of the flashcards.
“Are the Vardens nice?”
Her body jerked like I’d shocked her with static electricity, and then she glared at me.
“What?” I asked, immediately concerned. “Are they not?”
“They’re fine.” She fiddled with her pencil. “Just fine. Different. The mom doesn’t allow any junk food in the house.”
“Really?” I thought my mom was bad. We at least had ice cream in the freezer.
“But there’s a lot of meat. Like every meal has meat. Red meat. I dunno. Seems weird.”
I nodded, eager for anything about Ezra’s out-of-school life. Even his eating habits. I was the poster child for pathetic.
“I mean, they’re all right. I have chores and stuff, but they’re better than others.” Her eyes avoided mine.
I couldn’t imagine what kind of families she’d been a part of. “Do you like the house?”
She grinned, fully and without any hesitation. “Yeah, my room is great. It’s got a really cool window. It’s circular that looks out over the woods.”
“That is awesome.” My window had a view of our fenced backyard.
“Yeah. The little sister is a brat though.”
“Naomi?” I leaned forward.
“Yeah, her. Just…ugh. So spoiled. We share a bathroom, and it’s like the biggest sacrifice in the world. Like she wasn’t sharing with her brother too.”
“I don’t know her. She’s got her own friends in tenth grade.” I grabbed my necklace, absently putting the cross pendant into my mouth. Bad habit. “Is Ezra nice to you?” I tried to keep my tone neutral.
Suspicion crept in to her eyes. “He’s all right. He drives me places. Out of the whole family, he’s easiest to get along with. It’s more annoying how many girls have come up to me at school already just to ask about him. What is that about?”
If only she knew. “He and his friends are kind of sought after.” Understatement. “They’re like set apart, you know? Like their own little club. I guess people are curious. I’ve only really ever talked to Nick and Ezra.”
“Nick?”
“Nick Birch. The redhead. He hangs out with Ezra.”
She nodded as she closed her textbook. She wrapped her arms around her folded legs, listening.
“Anyway, Nick’s a goofball, but nice. I don’t know the others so well. All kind of mysterious. They don’t really hang out with anyone else.”
Her eyes were uninterested. Was it possible she didn’t find any of them attractive?
“What kind of guys do you like?”
Her face shut down. “I don’t like guys.”
“Oh.
Oh.
” I swallowed hard. “That’s OK.”
She turned her head toward me, her eyes knowing, if not a little smug. “I’m not a lesbian. I just…boys are annoying.” Something lay underneath her flippant response.
“Oh. Well, it would have been fine if you were.”
She smirked. “Sure.” She yawned, running her hands through her hair, her fingers twisting around the white bit.
“So your hair…do you dye it like that?”
Her hands immediately dropped.
I’d trod on something that was off-limits. “I mean, I like it,” I said hurriedly. “I’ve never dyed my hair. I always wondered what I’d look like as a blonde, but then I think my eyebrows are way too dark and dyeing eyebrows seems like overkill. Then maybe black, but I think I’d look really scary and…” Sophie the rambler in the building. “So, yeah.”
“It’s been like this ever since I can remember.” She held it so she could see it herself. “I tried dyeing it brown once. It didn’t stay. Repels all dye, I guess.” She sighed, dropping it. “It kills me when people think I’m a Rogue fan.”
I chuckled. “I did wonder. And that’d be OK. Rogue’s cool.”
Juliet raised one eyebrow. “She’s whiny.” She yawned again. “I think I’m studied out.”
“Yeah, it’s getting late. I should take you back.” I got up and stretched.
She threw her books into her backpack. She slid in the green notebook last before zipping it up. She stood, then followed me to the stairs. “Sophie?”
“Yeah?” I turned.
She didn’t say anything for a while. Her gaze never left mine, and although it was invasive, it didn’t bother me. Something about her would always intrigue me.
“You’re not so bad.” And she went to the bathroom.
I stood, my mind blank. I felt like crying, but in an entirely different way than the last time she’d been at my house.
Not so bad was good. I could take that.
Chapter Two
“So?” Juliet asked when we walked out of Geography toward lunch.
“Aced it.” I laughed. “You?”
“She made it seem like it would be so hard.” She shook her head. “We overstudied.”
“That we did, but it was fun, right?” Great, I was asking for validation. It had been fun last night, hanging out with her. Now I just sounded desperate.
Time seemed to crawl before she answered, “Yeah.”
I did a little dance in my head. “Cool.”
We continued to the cafeteria. As we got closer, I saw Nick with his arm around Ezra’s shoulders and the two of them talking. They both glanced over at the exact same time when we hit the first table in the cafeteria.
Creepy.
They walked over to us, and Juliet bristled at their presence. She really didn’t like guys.
“Hey, Sophie.” Nick shot a wary glance at Juliet, then gestured to my cheek. “Black and blue is a good look for you.”
Nick always brought out the sarcasm in me. “Thanks so much. Ezra, I didn’t get to really see your house when I dropped Jules off last night, but it looks really cool from the outside.” I was beyond lame with the words and talking thing.
“Oh yeah. It’s a house.” Ezra, who’d also been watching his foster sister warily, looked at me while Nick snorted as though someone had said something funny and Ezra shoved him. “Jules?”
“Jules?” Juliet repeated.
Soon I had three sets of eyes on me, I guess because I’d called her Jules. “Oh,” I swallowed. It had just come out. “Juliet just makes me want to quote Shakespeare…but I mean, it’s a great name, and I’m sorry…” Awesome, insult her name while I’m at it.
“No, I like it.” She smiled at me. “I’m hungry.” And she grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me away.
Ezra and Nick who were looking at us with identical shocked expressions. I knew exactly how they felt.
* * *
Friday classes were over, and as I gathered my books for the weekend, my brain ran through the events of the last week, not quite believing I’d actually been in a fight. I didn’t see Jules as I went to my car. Maybe they’d already left. I didn’t know what I’d say to her anyway. It’d been less than twenty-four hours since she’d said I was “not so bad,” and I had no clue if that meant we could hang out over the weekend.
“Sophie!”
I stopped and turned around to see, of all people, Micah Reade running up to me. I noticed a few passersby staring, too.
Micah drew that kind of attention. He could probably win class president without even running. Didn’t hurt that he was handsome too. Black hair, a tan all year round, and built like a quarterback even though he didn’t play football. He carried himself like someone much older and way more mature.
“Hi, Micah. What’s up?”
He stopped a few feet away from me. “I have something after school. Can you take Gil home for me?” Gil was Micah’s little brother.
I blinked a few times. “Me?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s something with the guys and…” His eyes pled. “Please?”
Even I couldn’t resist those golden eyes. Not when he went all puppy-dog on me.
“Sure. Um, where is he?” I was surprised that Micah even remembered that we were neighbors. Like I’d told Jules about the guys, he hung out with Ezra and Nick and nobody else. Aidan Durham completed the group.
“On his way. He’s being a little shit about it.”
I must have flinched at the word, because Micah immediately said, “Sorry.”
“Oh, it’s OK.” I blushed, feeling
goody-two-shoes
branded on my forehead. “So um…how’s life?”
He shrugged. “It’s life. Glad this is our last year.”
“Mic!” Gil came out of the double doors toward us. “I was looking…” He paused when he saw me. “Hey.” His voice lowered, and his grin reminded me of the few times I’d see a guy flirt with a girl. A love-me grin.
“Hi, Gil.” I gave a small smile. If I were a freshman, he would have been my unattainable crush. The same yellow eyes that Micah had and, while Micah attained a more all-American look with his clothes, Gil verged on the edge of rocker with studded belts and skinny jeans. His bangs were long, and he constantly flipped them out of his eyes.
“Sophie’s taking you home,” Micah told Gil.
Gil’s eyes shot to his brother. “I don’t get to go?”
Micah shook his head. “Maybe next time.” He reached out and messed up Gil’s hair, his eyes brotherly. “I have to watch out for you, Puppy.”
“You’d do a better job if I was there,” Gil growled, smoothing down his hair. “Naomi gets to go.”
Micah met his brother’s eyes and some silent communication occurred. Gil clenched his teeth together and stormed away. Micah glanced back at me, expression wary.
“Little brothers, huh?” I said, feeling like if I asked about why Naomi was going with the guys, I’d get the same warning look. Micah intimidated enough without frowning.
He relaxed. “Really do appreciate it.”
“No worries. Have a good weekend.”
I followed Gil, who strode about twice as fast as I did, into the parking lot.
“You’re at my car.”
He stopped and turned around. Pouting, he leaned against my car and waited with crossed arms. I unlocked his side and went to mine. He got in, still silent, and tossed his bag, emblazoned with band names, at his feet.
“Seatbelt,” I said.
“I’m not a baby.”
“Don’t think I said you were.” I turned on my car. “My dad would kill me if he found out I was driving anyone around and they didn’t have their seatbelt on.”
He huffed and clicked on his seatbelt. “There. Happy?”
“Much.” I smiled at him. “So, Gil, how much does it suck being the youngest?”
“So much. They always leave me out of—” His eyes darted to mine in the mirror. “Everything. They’re just all…losers.”
I nodded. “Bummer.”
He grinned. “I know you, don’t I?”
“Yeah.” Apparently he had no qualms getting into a car with a girl he wasn’t sure about. “I babysat you like three years ago. When you were eleven. We built a whole town with Legos.”
“Yeah. I told you I was too old for Legos and you said no one is ever too old for Legos.” He laughed. “You look different.”
I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad one. “So do you,” I answered smoothly. “How’s freshman year treating you?”
He shrugged. “Sucks. I hate school. I’d rather be…” He trailed off, looking out the window. “Out.”
“Out?”
“Anywhere but in that building. It’s like a prison.”
“Certainly looks like a prison.”
“I mean, what’s the point of school?”
“To graduate and become a functioning member of society?”
His eyebrows rose, as though I hadn’t convinced him.
“To get a job.”
He snorted. “I’m a musician. That’s my job. Or will be.”
“Really? What do you play?”
“Bass. And sax.” He blushed.
“You play the sax? That’s awesome.”
His blush deepened. “Yeah, I begged Dad for a bass, and he said I had to learn something else first. Something classical. I thought the saxophone was way cooler than the violin.”
“I think both are pretty cool. So, are you in a band?”
His eyes lit, and he sat forward. No more sullen little brother. “Yeah. We’re still coming up with a decent name. But we’re awesome.”
“I bet. What kind of music do you play?”
“All kinds. Mostly rock. We do covers too.”
“You playing gigs yet?”
He shook his head. “Just Tad’s garage.” He leaned a little toward me. “Do you play music?”
“Not really. I can pick out notes on the piano, but serious playing, nope.” I turned onto his road. “I sing.”
“Yeah?” He sounded interested, way more animated than he had been just minutes before. “That’s cool.”
Would I still be cool if he knew I just sang in Show Choir and at church? “I love it.” I smiled. “So, favorite band?”
His smile took over his whole face. “How can you pick just one?”
I laughed and parked in his driveway. “Here you are.”
He slumped. “Oh. We’re here.”
“Yep.”
“I’ll see ya, I guess. Thanks.”
“No problem. I had fun. Next time we’ll go for coffee or something. Talk more about music.” With my singing and his playing, we had something in common. More than I could say that I had with most guys.
He brightened. “Yeah, that’d be cool. Later, Sophie.” He slid of the car and left, but stopped at the front door of his house to wave at me.
* * *
My weekend was full of homework and getting organized for the first semester. I always started out really prepared and usually ended up a complete mess by finals. I also began rehearsing for Show Choir solo auditions, keeping my door closed and singing as on key as I could, though my room didn’t have the best acoustics.
On Sunday, I got up early to take Slightly for a walk before church. I always walked her down our street and over to the neighborhood park. As we got close, Slightly acted really strange and started whimpering.
I looked around for a squirrel or something, but she usually pulled my arm out of its socket when that happened. Now, she tried to get behind me as we continued toward the swings.
That’s when I saw a large, dead animal. I could tell that from a distance. Living in the South, I’d seen a dead animal or two. Lots of kids were into hunting. Even the lawyers and judges Dad worked with often tried to get him to go hunting. And on the interstates I often saw roadkill, which made me sad.