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And she’d hung close to him in the gun locker. She hadn’t minded when his arms went around her, when he’d placed his hands over hers and showed her how to grip the weapon.
But still, his father’s lessons were never something to be treated lightly. Hunter could feel the seeds of future disappointment taking root already.
I’ll be mad if you don’t learn it the first time around.
What did that mean? Did his father expect him to cut Clare off now, before anything else happened?
He could do that. It would be easy enough. They hardly knew each other, and this was the last week of school.
But it felt . . . wrong. He was sixteen years old, not six. He didn’t have to brush off some girl just because his daddy didn’t think they should play together.
Maybe he didn’t have to worry about it at all. The way they’d been caught had been plenty embarrassing. Today was his alternate schedule, too, so he didn’t have Government. Maybe he’d walk into school and find her giggling about him with her girlfriends. Even better, maybe he’d make it through the whole day without seeing her at all.
No. He found her waiting at his locker after last period.
Sleeveless sundress, brown hair shining, a splash of freckles across her shoulders.
He tried not to think of what it would be like to show her how to hold a weapon while she was wearing that.
She smiled at him. “I’ve been worried about you all day. Did you get in trouble because of me?”
He shrugged a little and worked the combination lock. She smelled like mangoes again, and it took effort to keep his eyes on the spinning numbers. “Nah. My dad was actually cool with it.”
“Really? So I can come back?”
“Sure—”
Then a hand smacked him on the back of the head, hard enough to slam his face into the locker.
Stars blossomed in his vision, but Hunter was already spinning automatically, an arm coming up to block, the other swinging a fist.
The other guy barely got out of his way. Garrett Watts, a heavyset junior who usually trailed after Jeremy Rasmussen. His brown eyes were small and beady above doughy cheeks, and the only thing about him that gave Hunter pause was the fact that this guy had to have seventy pounds on him.
But at least he couldn’t run fast. It was probably a lucky miracle he’d missed Hunter’s first swing.
Hunter was about to remedy that when a teacher appeared in the hallway. Miss Janney, the first-year Spanish teacher. She had guts getting between them. “Boys. Take a walk. In opposite directions.”
Hunter didn’t move. Clare had shrunk back against the lockers. Garrett looked like he was ready to come around the teacher—or through her. If Hunter turned around and started walking, Garrett wouldn’t follow his lead. He’d strike again.
Hunter could feel the promise of violence in the air. He wondered what he’d done to draw Garrett’s attention today.
Once he had the attention of Jeremy’s crowd, it was insanely hard to lose it.
He started planning how he could minimize the damage.
“Walk,” Miss Janney said. “There are two more days of school. I’m sure you don’t want to spend them on suspension.”
Garrett didn’t move. “He started it.”
Hunter opened his mouth, but Miss Janney held up a hand. “I don’t care who started it. Walk or I’m calling security.”
“Whatever.” Garrett shrugged his backpack higher on his arm as he turned to walk. “I know where to find him later.”
New way home. Check.
Once Garrett was walking, Miss Janney disappeared back into her classroom, muttering something about forty-eight more hours until peace.
Clare left the safety of the lockers and touched Hunter’s arm. Her eyes were full of concern. “Are you okay?”
