Good (11 page)

I swear his eyes burned holes into my face. He was so . . . intense. But a quiet, stable kind of intense, if such a thing could exist. I stood awkwardly, waiting for him to dismiss me.

“You should go to lunch, Cadence,” he said, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“I should?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay.” I turned to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mmhmm,” was all I could say.

***

The phone rang after dinner, and Oliver picked up.

“Miller residence,” he said, then paused, listening politely to the person on the other end. He looked at me and grinned. “Hold on just a minute, sir,” he said, and called for Dad.

Dad took the receiver, and Oliver sidled over to me, the grin still plastered on his face.

“What?” I barked.

“Did you get in trouble today?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then why is your math teacher calling?”

My heart plummeted to the floor. Why
was
Mr. Connelly calling my house? And then I remembered our conversation earlier. Tutoring sessions! Oh God! I never showed my parents that test grade!

I hurried over to Dad, hovering near him like an irritating gnat.

“I understand,” Dad replied, trying to shoo me away. “No, no. I’m glad you called.”

Was he?

“We’ll work something out,” Dad went on. “She’ll be there Thursday. Thanks so much for the call, Mr. Connelly. Take care,” and Dad hung up.

I bounced from foot to foot, dying to get it over with. My punishment for withholding that awful grade from my parents. What would they take away from me next? I had only my cell phone left. Surely they wouldn’t make me part with it. They used it to track my every move, call me incessantly, make sure they knew exactly what I was doing.

Dad stood staring at me. I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Here!” I shoved my phone into his hands.

“What are you doing?” Dad asked. He pushed my phone away.

“I know I’m in trouble,” I said. “Just take the phone. I know you’re going to anyway.”

Dad shook his head. “You’re not in trouble.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“But you could have told me you were having trouble in calculus,” he said. “Mr. Connelly told me he spoke with you today during lunch. He’s offering free tutoring sessions.”

“Yeah, after school starting next week,” I said. “I can’t stay, Dad, or else I’d miss the bus.”

Dad thought for a moment. “Suppose I let you drive to school on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

My mouth dropped open.

“You think you could handle that?” he asked.

I nodded, mouth still hanging open. Dad smirked.

“Close your mouth, Cadence,” he ordered, and I snapped it shut. “I’m taking a risk here, letting you drive so soon.”

Drive so soon? I hadn’t driven in close to a year, but I didn’t argue.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he warned. “You get two days. Do you understand me? The rest of the week you take the bus. Once we work out a part-time job, we’ll see about reinstating your driving privileges.”

I flung my arms around him.

“Oof!” he cried, then wrapped me in a hug.

It was the first time Dad hugged me since I left for juvie. It felt strange and wonderful.

I squeezed his neck hard and heard him laugh.

“Two days, young lady,” he said, lips pressed to my forehead.

I’d take whatever I could get.

***

I walked into Room 212 Thursday afternoon at 3:30 sharp. I expected to see a few students but wasn’t prepared for a packed room. Every single girl from my class was there, and I snorted. Suddenly we were all bad at math, even the ones I knew were making A’s and B’s.

Mr. Connelly looked overwhelmed. I don’t know why. He should have been flattered. He was eye candy—he had to know it—and every one of his female students had an insatiable sweet tooth. Apparently fifty minutes with him in the beginning of the day just wasn’t enough.

I chuckled and walked to the back of the room. My usual seat was already occupied.

“Kaitlin, you scored a 92 on your quiz,” Mr. Connelly said softly to the brunette occupying my seat.

“Well, I know, Mr. Connelly,” Kaitlin replied. “But I think it was just, like, a fluke or something.”

Mr. Connelly looked at her suspiciously. “I’m not sure you can score a 92 on a math quiz involving derivatives if you’ve no idea what a derivative is.”

Kaitlin pouted. “I’m just thinking that I need some reinforcement of the material we covered today.”

“We went over the quiz today,” Mr. Connelly replied. “The quiz you scored a 92 on.”

Kaitlin twirled her hair and cocked her head. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“How about you take Cadence’s seat?” he suggested. “I need her up front to be a little more engaged. And you seem to be comprehending the material just fine.”

Kaitlin whirled around to look at me. I shrugged, watching her glare. She collected her books with a huff and walked over to me.

“Bitch,” she whispered when I got up from the seat.

I ignored her and slid into my desk. And then I opened my notebook and tried to pay attention as Mr. Connelly went through each of the quiz problems one by one before putting us into small groups to work a few additional problems. Thank God I wasn’t with Kaitlin. She hated my guts now, and I expected her to do something awful to me in the near future.

It wasn’t my fault Mr. Connelly wanted me to sit front and center. My heart gave a small jolt at that realization. He wanted me up front. Not her. And then I shook my head and remembered that Kaitlin was doing just fine in calculus. I, on the other hand, was failing miserably.

Whatever. He loaned me his CD.

The girls didn’t really want to include me in the group, but they also didn’t want to come across as complete bitches in front of Mr. Connelly. Apparently everyone was working hard to gain his attention, and being mean to me would certainly be a turnoff. I stifled a laugh when Alaina leaned over and explained the third problem to me. It just so happened to be at the exact moment Mr. Connelly approached our group to listen in and offer assistance.

“So, I think the answer is 6x + 7. Do you see, Cadence?” she asked sweetly. And then she looked up at Mr. Connelly. “Oh, Mr. Connelly! I didn’t know you were there. Did I work this one right?” She held up her notebook.

Mr. Connelly perused her work and nodded. “Alaina? You have a 98 average in this class.”

“I know,” she said. “I thought I’d come to help the others.”

“Well, that’s awfully nice of you,” he said, “to give up your free time like that.”

“I think maybe having a girl explain math to another girl can be helpful,” Alaina said. “We speak, like, a completely different language.”

“I see,” Mr. Connelly replied, and he moved on to the next group.

“I don’t think I get it, Alaina,” I said once Mr. Connelly was gone.

Alaina huffed and turned to Callie sitting to her left, completely ignoring me. “So anyway, I told Brent he better start manning up if he thinks he has a shot at making this work.”

I went back to my worksheet, staring at it, trying to read a language I didn’t comprehend.

After tutoring, I hung back to talk to Mr. Connelly.

“So what do you think, Cadence?” he asked, cleaning the board with a wet paper towel.

“I think I’m stupid,” I mumbled.

He tossed the paper towel and walked over to me.

“You’re not stupid. Don’t ever say that,” he said gently. “Wanna show me what’s still got you hung up?”

“Number three,” I replied. “I figured out the others.”

“Number three? Didn’t Alaina help you with that one?” he asked, squatting beside me at my desk.

“Uh, yeah,” I replied sarcastically.

He paused and looked at my face. I stared at him emotionless. If I cried in front of him one more time, then I would never ever ever go back to school. Freaking ever.

“All right. Flip to a clean page in your notebook there,” he began, and I stayed another twenty minutes until I understood why the answer was 6x + 7.

If Mondays didn’t suck enough. Dean finally came back to school. I expected him the previous Monday but was glad to discover that I still had a little time left before I had to dodge him in the hallways and classes. I figured if I kept my head down and walked quickly, I’d never have to see him or hear his stupid voice.

Until I discovered that the empty locker beside mine was assigned to him. Are you freaking kidding me?

“Uh, hey, Cadence,” Dean said, approaching me tentatively. I threw my books in my locker and slammed the door.

I turned to leave.

“Wait!” Dean said, grabbing my arm.

“Don’t do that,” I replied, looking down at my arm. He released me immediately.

“Sorry. Look—” He pushed his hand through his blond hair. “—I’m supposed to apologize and stuff.”

Apologize and stuff? This guy was a real idiot. Suddenly I felt like an idiot for liking him. And kissing him. And letting him see my bare breasts only to be told that he thought they were bigger and did I wear a padded bra.

“I don’t need your apology,” I said.

“Well, you’re getting it. It’s on the list my parents put together,” Dean replied.

I stared at him for a moment, and then my lips curled into a grin.

“Your parents put together a list for you?”

Dean shrugged and grinned himself. “It’s so lame.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Wanna see it?” he asked.

I relaxed and nodded. Oh, what the hell? I was curious.

Dean handed me a folded piece of paper he kept tucked in his back pocket. I opened it and read quickly. There were several names of people he was expected to apologize to, a list of rules he had to follow while at school, and a bunch of “penance” chores he was required to do on a daily basis when he got home from school.

I shook my head. “And I thought I had it bad.”

Dean snorted. “Senior year is supposed to be awesome, right?”

Yes, it was. It was supposed to be an awesome year with Gracie.

“My mom drives me to school and picks me up,” Dean went on.

“You can’t even take the bus? At least I can take the bus.”

Dean chuckled and then hung his face. “I
am
really sorry, Cadence,” he whispered. “I’m not telling you that because it’s on my list.”

I tensed.

“I shouldn’t have offered you any drugs.”

“You shouldn’t have
had
any drugs,” I said.

“Well, I like drugs, okay?” he replied. “I’m trying to be better.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry I got you involved in that whole robbery thing,” he continued.

Surprisingly, I really didn’t care about the robbery thing. I was more concerned with the make-out session.

“You said some pretty mean things to me when we were going at it,” I said.

“Really? I don’t remember,” he replied.

Of course he didn’t remember. He was high as a kite. I was high, too, but I remember saying over and over to myself as his lips sucked my neck,
Remember this moment, Cadence. Don’t ever forget it. It’s a special, magical moment.

I burst out laughing.

Dean looked up sharply. “What?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled, shaking my head.

“No, tell me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I was just thinking about how I thought it was so magical kissing you when I was high.”

“And now that you’re sober?”

I smirked. “What do you think?”

Dean cocked his head. “Fair enough. I don’t even remember it.”

“Fair enough,” I replied. “I wish I could forget it.”