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Guy laughs under his breath. Once we’re out in the hallway, I turn and face him.
“Thanks for coming with me,” I say. “But really, I’m fine. You can just hang out if you want.”
“No worries,” he says with that easy voice that seems to float over to my ears. “I’m hungry, too.”
“Oh, okay.” Now I get it: I’m nothing but a free pass to the vending machines. Even so, although we just met, I fight to keep from smiling in his presence.
We walk down the long spoke of the English hallway in silence. I desperately want to ask his name, but I can’t be sure that Ella hasn’t already, so I keep my mouth shut. Though we don’t speak, I am aware of everything: the hint of a strut in his step; the way he genuinely greets the few people that pass like he knows everyone in school; the way he laughs after pulling out his iPhone and scrolling around for a second.
“There’s a ghost in this hallway,” he says, tilting the screen so I can see the “ghost meter” app.
“I hope you didn’t pay for that.”
“Naw, it’s free, but I’ve paid for worse,” he says before moving to hold open the door to the center of the school for me. Woodbury is a sprawling wheel with all of the departments branching out from the common/cafeteria area.
“Thanks.” He nods with a half smile. When we reach the vending machines, he puts away his iPhone and pulls a few dollars from his pocket.
“What’s your poison?” he asks, gesturing toward the rows of candy, chips, granola bars, and beverages.
“You don’t have to buy my food.” This makes him smile full-out, which zaps me like I’m sticking a butter knife in a light socket, but in a good way.
“You left your bag in class.”
I look down, as if it would be dangling from my neck if I had it with me. But he’s right; I have no money. “Fine, then I’ll take a Twix.”
“Good choice.” He buys two Twix bars and two bottles of water and hands me my half.
“Thank you.”
“Least I can do,” he says.
“Huh?” I unwrap my candy while he does. “What do you mean?”
“I missed,” he says. When I scrunch up my face at him, he clarifies. “I tried to catch you, but I missed. The least I can do is buy you a candy bar.”
“How chivalrous of you.” I can’t help but laugh.
“Can I record you saying that and play it back for my mom?” We start back toward class.
“Sure,” I say, wanting to add something witty but coming up dry.
We’re quiet again through the English hallway, but just before the door to our classroom, he turns to face me.
“You look different today.”
“Uh…” I’m not sure what to say. I’m frozen, gripping my water bottle, probably with chocolate in my teeth.
“Not in a bad way,” he says. “Good different.”
“Oh.”
He pauses for a second, like he might say more, but then he nods toward the door and walks into the classroom. I follow behind, the plastic bottle protesting in my viselike grip. Once again, I’m relieved that I’m not wearing the necklace: I’m pretty sure my heart rate just surged to somewhere near the red zone. As I sit down in the only open desk in the classroom—the one right behind Guy—I think about the enormity of what just happened.
Maybe for the first time in my life, someone noticed.
He noticed me.
three
