The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things (12 page)

“Where do you live, Lila?” my aunt asks. “I can run you home.”

“It’s not that far. I could walk—”

“Forget it,” I say. “Unless you plan on letting her cover you in reflective tape.” The irony of me coming across protective with Shane doesn’t escape me.

“Never. Not in a thousand years.” Lila shakes her head repeatedly.

“Then get in the car.”

While my aunt gets her keys, Lila hugs me unexpectedly. “Thanks. Your aunt is great. I mean, seriously great. You’re so lucky.”

“I know.”

“The way you two are together, it’s seems so easy. You can actually talk to her without worrying she’ll rip your head off or give you an hour lecture.”

“Yeah. I’m lucky all right.”

But I wonder if Lila would still think that if she really knew me. I wonder if she’d still want to be my friend.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When my aunt gets back from dropping Lila off, I remember to ask, “Do you know of any place that’s hiring?”

She cocks her head. “Aren’t you happy at the Curly Q?”

“Not for me. For my friend. Shane.”

“The dreamo guy who’s tutoring you in geometry?” She knows perfectly well who he is.

But I nod anyway. “Yeah, he could use a part-time job after school.”

“I saw a sign that they were looking for somebody over at the P&K.”

“Better than DQ. I’ll let him know. Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” She sinks down onto the couch with a weary sigh.

I head to the kitchen to make tea; it’s our nightly ritual, one we started early on, so we’d always have a few minutes a day to catch up. Prowling through the cupboards, I look at all the interesting and exotic choices. Tonight seems like it calls for some green matcha, so I boil the water and prepare the cups. There’s something calming about the process, and by the time I bring the cups back to the living room, she’s already curled into the pillows.

See how helpful I am? There’s no reason to send me back to state care. I’m an asset. I don’t cause trouble. I make your life easier.
I hope she thinks that when I do nice things. I hope she keeps me.

She takes the mug and warms her fingers around it before taking a sip. “So tell me.”

“How do you know there’s anything up?”

“You just confirmed it.”

I have to smile. It would be impossible for me to put anything over on my aunt. She’s ridiculously smart. So I dump the whole mess with Ryan in her lap, hoping it will distract her from Shane. I am
not
ready to talk about him. Maybe there’s nothing to say, anyway.

“So,” I finish, “do you think I’m overreacting?”

She looks positively astonished. “Ryan? We’re really talking about Ryan.”

“Yep. Apparently he’s got game.”

“I suppose this explains a few things,” she says thoughtfully.

I summon a smile. “I kinda wish he was gay.”

Aunt Gabby ticks the points off her fingers as she considers. “Let see if I have this straight. You’re hurt because he went after some older girl when you kind of liked him. You’re upset that he used and lied to you … because that’s not the way you treat a friend.”

“That’s the gist.”

“Do you still like him?”

“Not as a boyfriend. But … I’ll probably forgive him. Eventually.”

“Then you need to ask yourself why you’re punishing him. Is it ego or are you trying to teach him a lesson?”

“I’m not—” I start, but I totally am.

I’m changing my life, hoping he’ll see how awesome I am and be sorry he went after this Cassie person instead. Which is so immature since I don’t even want to be with him. Sometimes I hate how perceptive my aunt is. She’s also incapable of being mean to
anyone,
even the hyper-querulous Mr. Addams, who gets in line with four things at the P&K and then argues for half an hour about the price of three of them. Gabby says he’s just lonely.

“You think I should forgive him, don’t you?”

“Is it worth damaging your friendship permanently?” she asks. “Everybody makes mistakes, sweetheart. But if you can live with the possibility that this silence between you might last forever, if that’s what you want, then go ahead.”

“No,” I say softly. “But I also don’t want the whole school thinking we’re back together.”

“Make it clear you’re not.”

“How?” I demand.

“Post it on Facebook.”

Sometimes she just doesn’t get it. “It’s not like the whole school sees my wall. And it would be so lame to write, ‘Dear World, I have forgiven Ryan McKenna, but we are
not
dating.’”

“I see your point. Then let him squirm a little longer and see what you come up with.”

“Thanks.” I finish up my tea and lean down to hug her.

When I pick up my backpack, I can feel that it’s vibrating. I don’t let on as I carry the bag down the hall. Once I’m in my bedroom, I pull out my cell and check. Four texts from Ryan. Before I read them, sadness suffuses me. Even after I forgive him, things will never be the same between us.

Text one:
its been a rly long time since i felt this bad

Text two:
i miss u, i hate this

Text three:
so do u like him?

Text four:
just tell me what to do

That’s the problem; I have no idea. But my aunt’s words echo in my head, and I work my thumbs over the tiny keypad on the phone. Once I type the reply, I hesitate before hitting send.

i dont know

His answer comes so fast that he must’ve been watching for a possible reply.
at least ur talking to me again, thats a start

I leave it there because I don’t know what else to say. After plugging in my phone, I head to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Peering closer, I see that my cheeks are positively aflame with new freckles from the lot cleanup.
Awesome.
I spit and rinse, exhausted by this point.

Unlike some nights, I have no trouble whatsoever sleeping, which means I wake up late. I get ready in a hurry, then gulp a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruit. Aunt Gabby is running around with one shoe, but I don’t have time to help her look for it. I aim a kiss at her, but she darts off, so I only hit the back of her head. Close enough.

“I’m gone,” I call, grabbing my phone and my backpack.

My bike is in the shed around back, so I run for it. At this point I’m not even sure if I match, but hopefully, the outfit’s not horrible. I grabbed the first three things I found in my clean laundry basket, so this could be interesting. I pedal like crazy for the first mile, and then—because I’m tired—I slow down. If luck’s with me, I made up enough time so I won’t catch a tardy.

When I coast into the parking lot, a few people are still milling around, but not many. So the warning bell’s already rung, leaving me about a minute to get to class. No time to stop at my locker, but I have everything I need in my backpack. I go through the hall at a dead run, ignoring the teacher who yells at me. I manage to dive into my chair as the second bell rings.

With a start like this, I figure the day’s going to suck.

Only it doesn’t work out that way. Classes are fine; or at least, I don’t get in any major trouble. I sit quietly, turn in homework when requested, and once, I even make eye contact with Ryan and give him a half nod. He still looks exhausted and sad, and I don’t notice
anybody
who looks worse, which makes me feel good. So I leave him a Post-it on his locker; I can’t tell him he’s everything, but …

You tell the best stories.

He’s already reading it as I pass by. I don’t know what he expected to see, but he seems happy I reached out. Maybe forgiveness won’t take as long as I thought. I’m smiling when I get to Mackiewicz’s class, where I get my quiz back … and it’s a C
+
. I can’t wait to show Shane. He’s already looking at me expectantly, so I flash my paper, and a huge grin spreads across his face. The bruises are fading, finally, so he’s even better looking in that quiet way.

Once we’re in the hall, he says, “I knew you could do it.”

“It never would’ve happened without you.” Before I can think better of it, I spring onto my toes to kiss his cheek.

Shane stills. I don’t know what he would’ve said because Dylan Smith shoulders him as he swaggers out of the classroom, just in time to catch the kiss. “You dated Dorkenna for two years, and this is what you dump him for? Even
you
can do better, Princess.”

“What’s it to you?” I ask. “Unless you want to date me. If that’s the issue, it’s not happening. So move on already.”

He laughs. “In your dreams, fat ass.”

That’s such a lame insult that it doesn’t even bother me. I gesture in response, and Dylan doesn’t know his history well enough to understand what I just invited him to do. But when I turn to Shane, his expression says he’s about to go nuclear. Quickly, I take his hand and pull him away, before he can use that balled-up fist. A quiet thrill ripples through me; he can put up with any abuse these guys offer, but the minute they start on me? He can’t deal.

“No trouble,” I remind him.

“He shouldn’t get away with treating people like that.” Usually, he’s so low-key, all about blending into the background, but right now, Shane is vibrating with outrage.

For me?

“I don’t care what he thinks. He’s an asshole.”

As he cools down, we walk to our lockers together, no need to talk about it; in just a few days, this has become the new normal. When he lets go of me to stow his stuff, I realize we held hands all the way here. I have no memory of our fingers lacing together after I grabbed him to keep him from starting a fight with Dylan, one Shane would be blamed for, but it happened. I process that while we continue to my locker, where I dump my backpack and grab lunch. Today I’ve brought enough leftover tacos to feed the whole table. Including Shane. I suspect he’ll guess what I’m up to, but if everyone else is eating them, he can’t complain. I hope. For once, we’re the first ones to arrive, and I start setting the food out. As the others come in, I wave them over before they get in the cafeteria line.

“Lunch is on me today,” I say.

“Oh my God,” Kimmy squeals. “I
love
tacos.”

After everyone’s eaten several, Shane murmurs, “Tell your aunt she’s a fantastic cook.”

“You should come over sometime.”

The whole table looks interested, and I
think
I might’ve just invited everybody for Sunday lunch. “Do you guys have plans?”

“Nope,” Theo says without hesitation.

“I have to ask my mom,” Mel tells me, “but it’s probably cool. And I’ll bring lunch tomorrow, if you guys want. This was fun. I’ll make sure to bring some veggie stuff, Sage.”

“Wow. Thanks.” Lila looks about as surprised as I feel.

These four sophomores are
really
nice. I mean, I never would’ve gone out of my way to meet them because they’re … average. Normal. And I always feel self-conscious with people who don’t have any baggage … because I’m deceiving them, and they deserve better. But maybe I need to make friends like this to stop feeling that way.

Kimmy and Shanna say they’ll let me know tomorrow. I wonder how Aunt Gabby will feel about our Sunday afternoon being invaded by a bunch of teenagers, then I decide she’ll be happy; she’ll think my
wanting
to have people over is a milestone. I hope she doesn’t make a huge deal of it … but apart from Ryan—and now Lila—nobody has ever been to our place.

After lunch, on our way back to class, Shane asks, “You want to hang out Friday night?”

“Sure.” I’m not ready to bring him home for a night like I used to spend with Ryan. “We could catch a movie at the Capitol.”

There’s no multiplex here. Instead, we have an old-fashioned theater built in the 1890s. It’s a little run-down and the roof leaks during a hard rain, but the current owners are working on restoration. The only problem is that they can’t afford to shut down, so there’s always random construction going on, something roped off or covered in plastic. But I like the charm of the ornate moldings and the worn but fabulous carpet. The concession stand is covered in gilt, and there’s a heavy crystal chandelier on the domed ceiling. Upstairs, the Capitol even has a balcony, which is usually closed; that doesn’t stop couples from sneaking up there to make out. Since the place is understaffed, they usually get away with it.

“That sounds good,” he says.

I expected he might make an excuse due to money and suggest hanging out on the square instead. That’s the low-rent option for weekend fun in this town. Those who don’t have cars or can’t afford DQ, Coffee Shop, or a show will buy a drink at the convenience store near the courthouse, and then just wander around the square until the cops run them off. Sometimes they bring music and dance on the front steps, but that’s mostly drama dorks trying to start a flash mob of four. People don’t pick on them, though, because all the beautiful people are out at the Barn getting shit-faced.

“There’s only one show on Fridays,” I tell him. “At eight.”

“Then I’ll be at your house at seven thirty.”

“Do you need the address?”

“That’d be good.” I scrawl it on a piece of paper, which he sticks in the zip pocket on his backpack. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Oh,” I add, remembering. “You might want to swing by the P&K after school. My aunt said they’re looking for help.”

Shane’s relief is a tangible force, warming the air between us. “I definitely will.”

When he slides a hand beneath my hair—unstraightened and I didn’t even have time for a ponytail—I think he’s going for a kiss, right in the hallway. But he just cups his palm around my nape, fingers strumming slowly like I’m a tune he’s trying to learn. Chills start on my neck, roll down my shoulders to my arms, until I have goose bumps. I’m wearing a shrug or he’d
see
them. Reflexively, I tug at the sleeves, making sure they’re all the way down.

“Class,” I mumble, unable to string two words together.

Shane lets go, and I manage to get to chem without stumbling over my own feet. Today, I actually beat Ryan, so I get our supplies from the back table. The beakers and things are already at our lab station, so I start setting up as best I can. The teacher watches me take the initiative, then scribbles a note in the grade book. Ryan barely reaches his stool before the final bell, looking more rumpled than usual. Since his head is one enormous cowlick, that’s saying something.