Don't Kiss Him Good-Bye (6 page)

“New edition?”

I opened my eyes to see Tommy standing over me. The paper was still folded to the Asking for Trouble column.

“Oh . . . yeah,” I said, folding the paper and standing up straight.

“You write anything in there?” he asked.

Now what? No one else had ever asked me straight out. And yet I’d promised myself—and Jack—months ago that I wasn’t going to tell anyone I was writing the paper’s advice column.

“No byline yet,” I answered.

“What were you reading?” he asked.

“Asking for Trouble,” I said honestly.

“Cool.” He slung his backpack over his arm and we headed inside. “Nice to see you at church last night. Are you going to do something for April Fools?”

I nodded. “Joe convinced me to play guitar. You?”

He shook his head. “I’m usually at football practice during the week, so I can’t commit to Wednesday nights too often. Also, my mum broke her foot and can’t drive for another month or so. My dad doesn’t usually get home from work in enough time for me to make it in the middle of the week.” He looked at his watch and then at me. Yes, his eyes were definitely Johnny Depp in
Pirates
. “Talk to you soon.” He grinned at me and I melted back—I mean, smiled back—as he ducked into his classroom.

The bell rang. Uh-oh. I was still two hallways away from my class.

Chapter 10

“You’re late, Miss Smith.” My maths teacher, Mr. Thompson, picked at the mole on his face till it bled and looked disapprovingly at my disheveled appearance. I had just booked it down the hallway. “Detention at lunch or after school today.”

I’d promised to meet Rhys to help him with his paper during my lunch hour. I needed to honor my commitment. “After school,” I answered.

“Very well.” He called the class to attention.

Chapter 11

At lunchtime I made my excuses to Penny, and even to Hazelle, who for some unknown and therefore questionable reason was being very sweet and asked me to sit next to her at lunch. Then I headed to the library to meet with Rhys. When I got there, all the computers were occupied. But not by Rhys. Five minutes later, a computer opened up, and rather than hanging around looking like an idiot, I sat down and logged on to my e-mail. There was a short list from Natalie, as promised, of the things she wanted me to do.

1. Suggest several couples to feature in the paper.

2. Talk to local businesses to see if they’d be interested in sponsoring adverts before the dance.

3. Research the history of May Day.

4. Think through some good picture angles.

I sighed. Research, but no writing. I’d suggest a few story ideas to her. I was hoping that I might be able to do a write-up on Be@titude for the paper, maybe drive some business their way. It was funny—I had never even been there, but just from one simple piece in the newspaper, I was already involved with them on two levels. It was the power of the written word. Which was what I loved about writing.

I looked at the large face clock on the wall. Lunch hour was half over. I logged off and got up from the computer. I wandered the library to see if Rhys was in one of the rows and I had missed him somehow. He wasn’t anywhere to be found. A few minutes later I hid in the corner and gobbled my protein bar, then washed it down with water from the drinking fountain. Three minutes before lunch was up, I finally conceded that he’d stood me up. Part of me was mad—I’d wasted a whole lunch, and besides, it never felt good to be left hanging. Part of me was relieved, though. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but I was.

On the way to fourth period, composition and literature with Mrs. Beasley, I thought I saw a familiar ponytail duck into the lunchroom. He was laughing with his “mate,” the same one I’d seen him with the other day. A gaggle of girls was following them. Rhys sat down at a table facing me, and he spotted me as I was passing through the hallway outside the lunchroom. I kept walking, not wanting to be late for another class.

“Hey, there’s my girl Savannah,” he called out.

My girl?

Rather than make a scene, I went into the lunchroom and walked over to his table. “Hey—weren’t we supposed to meet at the library last period?”
My lunch period,
I wanted to add.

“I am so sorry.” Turning to his friends, he said, “Savannah is really smart—and generous, too. She promised to help me with my paper, and I totally forgot. Forgive me?” he asked, turning back toward me. He looked genuine.

Well, I was supposed to forgive, right? “All right,” I said, unable to resist as he turned on his charm.

“Tomorrow?” he asked. “I’ll type it into my phone right now so I won’t forget. I really need your help. And while I’m at it, what’s your number?”

I watched as he punched my number into his phone.

“You’re the best.” He reached over and hugged me just a second longer than absolutely necessary. It felt good to be needed. “See you tomorrow.”

As I turned to leave, I glanced at the tables right behind Rhys. It looked like another set of Aristocats. Well, of course, they’d have a set of tables in second lunch too.

A moment later I felt rather than saw someone looking at me. I looked up, and for a second I locked eyes with Tommy. He looked at Rhys, and I wondered if he’d heard the entire exchange. Probably. And no doubt he’d caught the shout-out to “my girl” too. I gave him a feeble little smile, and he smiled back, reserved but friendly. And then he turned back to the girl at his right arm—Chloe; I recognized her from my visit to The Beeches.

She leaned toward him till they were thisclose.

Chapter 12