This conversation is about as frustrating as everything else about him.
I let out a tired breath, closing my locker with a soft thud. “Look, I didn’t mean to hurt him. Truly. Things just got…complicated.”
“Complicated? You played him. Led him on, then tossed him aside.”
“Why do you even care?” I shoot back. “He’s your best friend, fine, but you don’t have to go around policing his love life.”
Chase’s jaw tightens.
“And how are you even best friends?” I push. “How did the golden boy and the delinquent get so close? Make it make sense.”
He snorts derisively. “What, someone like Everett can’t associate with someone like me?”
“You gotta admit, it breaks all the social rules…” When he doesn’t respond, I shrug. “Okay, cool. Don’t tell me.”
“We’ve had each other’s backs since we were kids.” His tone is grudging, as if he’d rather pry out his own teeth than utter any of this to me. “Might look like an odd friendship to everyone else, but we understand each other.”
“What do you even have in common?”
“Dead parents,” Chase says roughly. “His mom died when he was seven. My dad died of cancer when I was five.”
I havetwodead parents. Can I be in the club too?
I silence the sarcastic voice in my head.
“We got assigned some project together in the second grade, right after his mom was killed. I don’t remember what it was, but I had to go over to his place a few times. His dad was a mess. His sister was six and kept asking when Mommy was coming home.”
These are more words than Chase has spoken to me since I’ve known him. I stay quiet because I want him to keep talking.
“We bonded, I guess. Even if we don’t hang out much at school, we’re still tight.”
I swallow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your dad.”
Our gazes lock, and it’s as if those gray eyes are scouring me, digging deeper and deeper to my soul. I can’t take it, but I also can’t look away.
“Mr.Hedlund! Ms.Shipley!” scolds a sharp female voice.
I hear the heels that can only belong to a teacher clip-clopping furiously down the hallway. I break from my trance and stare at the woman in the severe bun. It’s not a teacher—it’s the principal. Even with the heels, Principal Healey is shorter than me, so she makes up for her lack of height with a voice that sounds as loud as gunfire and just as frightening
“The first bell rang five minutes ago. Why aren’t you in homeroom?”
The bell rang? Whoa. I was so engrossed with Chase Hedlund, of all people, that I didn’t even notice it.
“I, uh…” I trail off, trying to think of a good excuse.
“We felt like chatting instead” is Chase’s insolent reply, because of course it is.
“One day’s detention,” Healey snaps. “Today after school. Both of you.”
“But—” I start to protest.
“Get to homeroom before that becomestwodays’ detention,” she interrupts, and we both start walking.
“What do you mean, you have detention? We were supposed to go shopping!” Jasmine whines later, watching as I shove everything but my calc textbook into my locker. I figure I’ll make use of detention and actually do my homework.
“Take it up with Principal Healey,” I say with a shrug.
“Ugh. I hate that woman. She’s always ruining my day.”
