“You have grandparents?” I ask before realizing how utterly asinine I sound.
He must agree, because he snickers. “No, Gemini, my parents just appeared out of thin air. Sort of like a reverse Rapture.”
I sigh. “I deserve that. Is this your grandparents from your dad’s side or mom’s?”
“My mom’s folks. We’re not that close,” he admits. “Things became strained between them and my dad after she died. But they let me stay there whenever they go on vacation, and they don’t care if I have people over.” He tips his head at me. “Your cousins are coming. You should too.”
My dad’s execution is in a couple of weeks. I suddenly wonder if Everett’s party is one of those Thorn-Pokes that Ty told me about in class. I want to ask him, but I don’t know how to raise the question.
To my surprise, he broaches the subject himself. “It’s not an execution thing,” he assures me. “I know you said the whole capital punishment thing makes you squeamish. And, yeah, there’s definitely gonna be parties celebrating the execution. But mine has nothing to do with it.”
Relief trickles through me. “That’s good to know.”
“So you’ll come?”
The idea of partying on the same weekend my father will be put to death makes me sick to my stomach.
“Maybe,” I say before slipping into my calculus classroom.
The first person I see is Chase Hedlund. He nods at Everett, who’s lingering in the doorway, clearly displeased that I won’t commit to attending his party. As much as I like him, his pushiness bugs me. I’m naturally oppositional. Push me hard enough and I’ll do the opposite just because. And he always seems to be pushing me for something. A date. A conversation. A party RSVP. My secrets.
I wish he’d back off sometimes, but he’s so charming and sweet that I feel guilty even thinking that.
“You don’t seem like the type to be into quarterbacks.”
The rough-voiced remark comes from the seat behind me. Chase, of course. He sits behind me in both classes we share.
I twist around in my chair to find a pair of mocking gray eyes staring back at me. “And my type is any of your business because…?”
“It’s my business when you’re playing with my boy.”
“Your boy?” I echo in amusement. “What are you, his daddy?”
He ignores that. “Just don’t get your game, is all.”
A frown touches my lips. “I’m not playing any game.”
“You are.” Chase leans back in his chair, his eyes fixed on me. Boring into me. I want to look away, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how that heavy-lidded gaze affects me. “You’re not who he thinks you are.”
I suck in a sharp breath, my mind instantly flashing to the ominous messages.
DidChasesend them? Because right now it’s sounding a lot like he’s implying I’m hiding my identity.
“What the hell does that mean?” I scowl at him.
“It means when you laugh at his jokes, it never reaches your eyes. And when you stare out the window during every class, it’s not because you’re seeing something peaceful.”
“What am I seeing then?” My throat feels clogged, tight.
“Escape,” Chase says, shrugging.
I want to demand what he means bythat, but our teacherstarts the lesson, and I spend the rest of the class feeling Chase’s gaze heating the back of my neck.
After school, Mar and I head for the abandoned railroad tracks she keeps talking about. She has her own car, a beat-up hand-me-down sedan from her older brother who just started college, and she drives way too fast for my comfort as she peels away from Crockett High.
“I can’t believe you’re not going to the game tonight,” she says, grinning at me as she drums her fingers on the steering wheel. A folksy rock song plays at a low volume in the background.
“What game?”
