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And of course texts demanding to know what had happened had been hopeless. No one would respond to him, it seemed.
He didn’t want to be around his brothers, with Chris suspecting something and Gabriel being an ass**le and Hunter knowing everything but keeping quiet. At least Michael was swamped with work, and he hadn’t resumed the prying.
Nick turned to the last physics test question and sighed. He didn’t have a chance.
He gave it his best shot anyway, hoping for partial credit.
Yeah, right.
Luckily, Dr. Cutter was speaking with another student when Nick brought the test up to his desk. He turned it over, placing it facedown on the desk blotter.
Then he walked out of the room, feeling the pinch of guilt between his shoulder blades.
He had never failed a test. Ever.
And now he’d done it twice.
He couldn’t go to the cafeteria—not like he wanted to eat anything anyway. He shifted his backpack and headed for the library.
While he walked, he scrolled through the texts from Adam until he found the picture he’d sent himself.
His eyes blurred, and he blinked moisture away. God, he’d been such an idiot.
His phone vibrated in his hand, making his heart leap.
Not Adam. Michael.
I hate to ask, but can you help with a job tonight?
Nick sighed.
But what else did he have to do? He texted back quickly.
Sure.
By the end of the day, he was regretting it. Tension was making him surly and snappish. Janette Morrits asked for a pencil in seventh period and he just about flung it in her face. Teachers responded to his attitude with lectures to pay attention, to focus, that they expected more.
Every snicker, every giggle, every stupid use of the word g*y or fag had his head whipping around.
Maybe Hunter changed his mind and told everyone. Maybe they’re all talking about me.
He found himself wishing he sat in the back of every room, instead of the front.
No, he found himself wishing he’d cut school.
At the final bell, he stormed out the side door. He didn’t want to ride home with his brothers. He didn’t want to work a job with Michael.
Cars were lined up illegally in the fire lane, parents who couldn’t be bothered to sit through the heavier traffic on the other side of school. But trees lined the grounds beyond those vehicles, dense woods that led the way home. Nick headed for the crosswalk. He’d cut through the woods and clear his head.
Maybe after three miles of fresh air, he could get it together to spend a few hours slinging pavestone or planting bushes or whatever Michael needed help with.
Heavy clouds swarmed the sky, trapping cold air near the ground. Or maybe he was doing that. He cast his senses far, feeding power into his element. Reckless and dangerous, but he didn’t care. Wind whipped through his hair, feeding on his temper to blow loose debris along the curb. A notebook flipped open to spill papers across the quad. Girls shrieked and scurried to catch them.
Rain spit at his face, and Nick pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt. It kept out the cold and his classmates, especially since not too many students came out this side of the building.
The hoodie didn’t keep out sound, however. A car door slammed; then a voice called out as he slid between two sedans.
“Windy out, huh, douche bag?”
