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“I didn’t,” I correct, the image of Lexie pressing her ear against the metal with a stethoscope (I have no idea where she stole it from) held strategically by the lock, forming in my head. “Lexie did. She can figure out any code or break any lock.”
“Respectfully, she’s genuinely terrifying.”
I chuckle. “She would love that you called her that.”
He smiles a little, or I think he does, since one of his tiny dimples appear. “Why didn’t you just give it back to me yourself?” When I open my mouth, he goes on. “Why does it feel like you go out of your way not to interact with me?”
Because I can’t tell if you’re actually trustworthy. Because I find your ability to get under my skin in less than a minute unbearable.
Because I hate unknown territory and hanging out with you does weird, unfamiliar things to my ribs.
“I just like my own company. Is that such a bad thing?” I wish this stupid uniform had pockets because my hands keep moving to my blazer, the edge of my skirt, like they don’t know what to do with themselves.
“Not at all,” he says softly, in a way that makes my heart pound a little faster. Then he smiles knowingly. “But don’t you think if you get home faster, you can study faster?”
I swallow my no and then resist the urge to shove him when his grin becomes mischievous. Like he knows he got me.
I really do need to study my math. “Fine,” I say, “but please don’t talk to me. I’m going to study during the ride.”
“Come on.” He grabs my wrist and starts leading us toward the parking lot. “You need to relax. You studied enough today.”
“You don’t get it,” I say, taking out my phone, scrolling through different social media accounts. He must have said a few more things as we walk, because he pulls on my arm.
“Are you listening?”
“Sure,” I say, screenshotting a post that captures my attention.
Theo reaches over and locks my phone. “You know, one of these days you might hurt my feelings.”
I yank my phone from him before we replay the time when we—well, I—tried wrestling for it. Now, though, the memory brings my cheeks to a flush.
“If you keep hanging out with me, I am going to hurt your feelings.”
“Why does that sound like a promise?” he asks, finally releasing my wrist as we get closer to his car. He walks ahead, bounding toward the car’s passenger side to open the door for me.
“Because it is,” I whisper to the wind.
CHAPTER 8
Witness Testimonies
Witness 1: Mr. Beaver (school janitor)
Testimony Excerpt:
“Yes, I saw Theo Hudson the night of the vandalism. Tall kid, right? I’m sure I saw him that night. Oh, sorry about that, talkie is going off. Have to go take care of a clogged toilet. We done here? I have to go be a hero.”
“The florist?” Lexie repeats behind me as I aim my arrow, my vision like a camera on portrait mode, blurring out the edges to focusing solely at the bull’s-eye.
Vivi’s dark fur borders the corner of my view, and I whistle two short notes. She remembers the meaning and jogs away, leaving my line of sight, but I feel her when she curls up by my feet.
My fingers loosen and tighten until the arrow is firm in my grip, but not enough to cramp my hand. I suck in a breath, hold it until the arrow stills completely. Then I exhale and release.
It hits dead center.
“Yes.” I flex my fingers out in a stretch. “I mean, she’s single, and they have a common connection. My dad is always excited to talk to her when we have to do a soil run, and then takes forever to actually check out.”
Lexie hands me another arrow from my bucket—painted with crooked flowers and one-dimensional grass from when Lexie had her I want to be a painter phase and drew on any available non-sentimental object she could grab.
