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The boy’s hand had formed a fist around the paper clip, and for a fractured moment, Becca thought he was going to take a swing, that they’d have a throwdown right here in the middle of World History.
But he half rose from his seat and reached across another student’s desk to drop the mangled paper clip in front of Tommy.
“Look, dude,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “You want to ask me out, you man up and do it proper.”
Everybody laughed—including Jeremy. Tommy shoved the clip off his desk and fumed.
The new kid drew back to sit in his chair again. On his way there, he caught Becca watching him—and smiled.
She was so startled she didn’t smile back.
Then Beamis asked a question and turned from the blackboard. The new kid was already facing forward, a pen on his notebook.
A tiny triangle of lined paper fell on her desk. Tommy Dunleavy was hiding a smirk.
Becca didn’t want to unroll it, but somehow not knowing was always worse. So she did.
You give Happy Ending?
She crumpled it in her fist and wanted to punch Tommy. She wished she had a witty comeback, some shred of the new boy’s easy charisma. Something that would make the rest of the class laugh and side with her.
But the new kid was just that—a clean slate.
Becca had no chance of that.
Since school started, she and Quinn had sat alone for lunch, at one of the shorter tables near the back stairwell. It was a lesser location, farthest from the main hallway and the line for food, somewhat hidden behind one of the support columns. Last year they’d spent every lunch with Drew and his jock buddies, and Becca would giggle and blush while Drew ate half her food. She and Quinn had never been popular before Drew showed interest in her. They had loved the attention.
What a waste.
The rain beat an incessant rhythm on the school windows, keeping everyone indoors, turning the cafeteria into a mob scene. Standing in line was just another opportunity to get hassled, so she and Quinn usually just nursed bottled waters. On a day like today, every seat was valuable, and two physics geeks were scribbling notes at the other end of their table.
Becca thought they were doing homework, until she realized they were plotting out some online role-playing game.
Quinn rolled her eyes at them. “Jesus, Bex, you think we can get them to go back to Mordor?”
One of the kids glared at her. “Shut it, Quinn. Why don’t you go eat in the bathroom with the rest of the freaks?”
Becca sighed and twisted her water bottle in her hands. It had already gone lukewarm. She watched the rain coat the windows and started to peel the label off her bottle. Fourteen more minutes of “lunch.”
As usual, she was starving.
“Sorry, precioussss,” said Quinn. “Why don’t you go eat in the lab with the rest of the losers?”
“Wow. This sounds like a friendly table.”
Becca snapped her head up. Chris Merrick stood there, beside Quinn, holding a lunch tray. He wore an unbuttoned plaid shirt over a blue tee. The swelling around his eye had subsided, but the bruising along his cheekbone was downright spectacular. His hair barely covered the scabbing at his temple.
Actually, he looked surprisingly good, considering the damage he’d taken. The shirt made his eyes look bluer, sharp and intuitive and fixed on her face.
Her heart kicked. “Um,” she said. “Hi?”
He dropped the loaded tray beside Quinn, then swung a leg over the bench to sit down.
Every person at the table stared at him.
He picked up a fry, glancing around. He offered the physics kids half a smile. “ ’Sup.”
Quinn dragged her eyes back to Becca’s. “Why is Chris Merrick sitting next to me?”
