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If she knew everything… Goddammit.
“You look worried,” Abbie said. She had taken her top off at some point, I realized. She was leaning close now, biting her lower lip while she trailed a finger down my arm.
We were sitting in my room while music from the party downstairs came up with muffled thumps through the floor. Outside, I could hear shouting from the little lake island as people played king of the hill. Any other night, I would be down there, enjoying it. But worrying about what Wheels might have seen or heard the other morning was consuming me.
“Tristan?” Her voice was obnoxiously pouty.
I groaned, pushing her away.
“What the fuck?” She sat up and covered her chest.
“Just go,” I growled. “I’m not in the mood. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your friends nothing happened. Make up whatever story you want.”
Abbie’s anger suddenly faded. She flashed a half-smile. “Anything?”
“I don’t give a shit, just get out of here.”
She pulled her shirt back on and left, leaving her bright pink bra on my bed.
I flopped backwards, laying and staring at the ceiling. Then the sound of shattering glass made me sit bolt upright.
Shards of glass caught the moonlight where they’d exploded inward from the window. There was a rock with a piece of paper stuck to by a few thick rubber bands in the middle of the carnage.
I walked over and picked it up, careful not to step on any glass in the process. Had some drunken idiot done this? I knew it wouldn’t be hard to figure out who it was, and decided they were going to find themselves permanently barred from my parties.
But when I opened the note, my eyes skipped the message and went straight to name signed at the bottom.“If you ever try anything like that again. I will tell.
Fuck you very much,
Kennedy Stills.”I ran my thumb across my lower lip, setting the note beside my bed. I wondered if Wheels knew she had just promoted herself from an annoyance to a challenge. And I figured she had no idea how much I loved a good challenge.9KennedyA couple days after the school year started, my mom was forced to admit I had been right. She was falling asleep while trying to homeschool me and making herself miserable. As much as I didn’t enjoy seeing my mom suffer, I was secretly thrilled. She enrolled me at Parker S. Huntington High two days after the start of the school year.
The whole process was surprisingly quick. We’d had a meeting with the school nurse, but instead of leaving her with all my medications like I had expected, my mom just let the nurse know when to call her. It was against school rules, but she spent that evening sewing a special pouch in my book bag where I could keep my pills—that way I wouldn’t need to wait for permission to get to the nurse’s office if I needed them.
After that, I got my classes scheduled. Most of the classes were mandatory, like the math and English courses, but I did get to pick two electives. I chose videography and a botany class, which I hoped would help me raise my little green friends back home.
My first day was a Thursday. They had to send a special bus to get me because of my wheelchair, which meant all the kids who rode in my area were already getting a head start on seeing me as the weird one. But I didn’t let it phase me.
I ignored the looks and kept myself as upbeat as I could. Distantly, I knew I was probably going to pass Tristan or his friends in the hallways at some point, but the school was a big place. It was entirely possible we wouldn’t even share any of the same classes or see each other. Honestly, I wasn’t sure he cared about me anymore. Maybe the stunt at the jailhouse had been enough for him and he had already moved on to torment someone else. All I knew was it had been two weeks since I threw a rock in his window, and I just hoped that meant it was over.
My first two teachers informed me that I hadn’t really missed much when I met them before the bell. They handed me a syllabus and in one case, a reading list to get started on. In third period, I was partnered up with a girl who was wearing a full outfit of camouflage.
“I like your clothes.” I gestured to her jacket after we’d gotten ourselves a decent start on the assignment.
“It’s tactical camo,” she explained. “They come out with new patterns all the time, but this one is easily superior to the others. I’ve field tested it and confirmed.”
I bit back a grin. “It sounds like you know your stuff.”
