Her laugh is low and throaty. “Well. Take my advice and don’t pick that gorilla.” She nods to the napping boy. “He’s bad business.”
The bell rings, releasing us to our next class. I’m summoning my courage to ask if Beas has any plans for the weekend when she gathers her books and says, “See you next week.”
“Be seeing you,” I say, suddenly wishing we were in the same year so we’d have more classes together. I stuff my textbook into my bag, telling myself, I don’t need to make best friends. Soon enough I’ll be back home again with Cass and Father.
When my final class ends, I wave goodbye to George, who is at the front of the classroom, speaking to our teacher. He doesn’t stop talking, but cocks his chin at me. Today his tie is only marginally wrinkled.
I’ve barely joined the students in the hallway streaming toward the sunshine when someone knocks into me hard enough from behind to check me into a locker.
I slam into it and look up just in time to see the back of a shaved head.
It is the boy from Will’s team—?Peterson—?the one who earned a jab from Will’s elbow. He doesn’t apologize. Instead, he keeps moving in a jaunty sort of way that makes me suspect our encounter wasn’t entirely an accident.
I regain my balance and glare at the back of his head. Cass’s ribbon is on the floor, where it’s fallen from my pocket. I quickly crouch to dust it free of dirt. When I straighten again, I see Beas farther down the hall, making her way toward me through the shifting mass of students.
I wait for her, deciding that I’ll ask if she’d ever want to study together. But as I watch, another girl gracefully parts the crowd and falls into step with Beas. Her blond hair is falling in a perfect plump wave over her shoulder, and she has blazing eyes the color of jade. Her legs are so long that her uniform seems inches shorter than everyone else’s. I can feel her confidence from all the way down the hall.
“That new girl, the one staying with Will—” the blonde says to Beas when they are close enough for me to hear. I turn away and flatten myself behind a pillar as they walk by. “Do you think she knows how uncomfortable it is that she’s here? With the way everyone feels about her mother, and all?”
“You know, we have a class together. And she’s pretty nice. I like her.” Beas adjusts her violin case as they pass.
“You say that like she’s a pet you’re thinking of keeping,” the other girl chirps. “Goodhearted Beas, always looking out for strays. Better not get too close, though. That one might be here to finish what her mother started.”
“Eliza,” Beas’s low voice sings, “I’ve heard that being cruel gives you wrinkles and turns you into a hag.”
“Oh, Beas,” Eliza retorts, and swats her playfully on the arm. “You’re lucky I find your sass charming.” They reach the front doors, disappearing into the sunlight.
I stay hidden in the shadows and smooth my hair over my ear again and again. Don’t you dare cry, I tell myself fiercely. How could someone hate me before she’s even met me?
I calm myself by coming up with a list of finishing words. Several less-flattering terms come to mind before I finally settle on vitriolic. Even then, it’s still several moments before I am able to step out from the pillar, walk down the hall, and look for the familiar outline of the Clifftons’ car.
Instead, I spot Will. He’s leaning against one of the apple trees in the orchard, his schoolbag slung low over his shoulder. He isn’t wearing his practice uniform, and he seems to be waiting for something.
When he catches my eye, he straightens.
“Aila,” he calls. “I’ve got an errand to run. You want to come?”
“Sure,” I say, still trying to shake off what Eliza said.
And then I see her. She’s perched along the courtyard wall with Beas. A look of surprise creases her face as I walk toward Will. Then, as quickly as it appeared, her expression returns to cool glass.
Oh. It makes more sense now.
But I’m caught off-guard by the way my heart suddenly lightens with each step toward Will. How conscious I am of the wind as it ruffles my skirt against the backs of my knees, and how I’m not sure what to do with my hands in the moment he looks up and smiles just wide enough for me to glimpse that single crooked tooth.
“Aila’s coming with me,” Will tells his mother through her open car window. “We’ll be back for dinner.”
We put our schoolbags in the back seat, and Miles climbs into the front. He looks back and forth between Will and me with an expression that suggests he’s about to say something embarrassing.
“Bye, Miles!” I say, and hurriedly shut the door on him. He presses his mouth and cheeks against the window glass as the car pulls away, which elicits a laugh from Will.
“Don’t encourage him,” I mutter. “So where are we going?”
“Thought you’d want to see the Marketplace.”
“Where they sell the Variants?”
He nods, and I hurry to match his long strides through the shadows cast by the orchard’s tree branches, tripping through the stripes of shade and sun. I’m conscious that we are alone together again, and for some reason it’s making me feel jittery and nervous.
