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There sure are a lot of unanswered questions revolving around Rivers right now. It couldn’t just be a coincidence that he’s not here right now.
I look away from Tully, not wanting her to look into my eyes and read me like a map. “I guess, I just don’t know what to think about it. I’m still processing.”
“Uh huh.” She says, knowing me well enough to know that I don’t like to sit and stew on things. I’m the queen of jumping to conclusions.
I turn back to Tully. “Did Rivers ever talk to you about his mother?” I question.
Her eyes narrow on me. “No. Why?” she asks slowly.
“So, you don’t even know her name?”
Tully watches me for a long drawn out second, her eyes still narrowed to slits. “Why are you being so weird right now?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”
She’s about to question me further when the door of the room barges open with Noah looking as though he’s about to offer Tully the world on a silver platter. “Who’s the fucking best?” he questions with a shit-eating grin.
Tully flies up in bed, forgetting me by her side and practically barging me out of the way. “Are you serious?” she demands. “Am I getting out of here?”
The smile on Noah’s face drops a smidge. “Possibly,” he says. “The doctor is going to come and check you out and if he thinks you’re doing ok, then he’ll let you go.”
I look at him in shock. “How the hell did you swing that?”
He grins back at me, that cocky, too-sure-of-himself attitude shining bright. “I can’t tell you all my secrets now, can I?”
I shake my head. “You’re such a dork.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”
Yeah, he’s right. I really do.
Chapter 3
I barge my way through the big double doors of the teacher’s lounge before shaking my head in exasperation. Of course, it’s fucking immaculate in here. The rest of the school is falling apart yet the teachers have this perfect little piece of heaven for them to come and escape to.
That’d be right. How very douchey of them.
The second I step over the threshold, it’s as if they smell me. All eyes turn to me, each and every one of them with a horrid scowl. I mean, how dare I disturb their happy little sanctuary, right? Who would have thought that they’d have to deal with students when they go to work?
I quickly glance around. Most of the teachers are sitting at tables working on scarfing down their lunch, a few linger at their desks putting together papers and organizing crap for their next lessons; while the rest engage in what I’m sure is an extremely riveting conversation.
Once they finish scowling, most eyes turn away, wanting to mind their own business as they all know better than to screw with me. Not one of them risk telling me to fuck off, you know, in that pleasantly nice way that teachers seem to do.
Only one bothers to stand up; Mr. Carver.
To be honest, I’m not surprised to see that he’s the only one giving me his time. He seems to be the only teacher at this school who gives a shit.
Mr. Carver walks forward, giving me a polite smile. “Well, this is a surprise,” he says as the other teachers pretend to mind their own business. “What are you doing here?”
I glance around, my eyes flicking from left to right, taking in the teachers around me and making sure the handful of ones I need are here before focusing back on Mr. Carver. “Tully is home from the hospital and will be on bedrest for the next few weeks. I’ll be coming every few days to collect her schoolwork so she doesn’t get behind. “So,” I say, looking at her teachers who I know are listening, “I’m assuming you’ve all been keeping her work for the past two weeks. She’s going to need it.”
A few eyes bulge while others flash with guilt, and only one pair shine with pride. “Of course,” Mr. Carver says. “I’ve got it all on my desk. I had a feeling you’d be coming around sooner or later.” He goes to walk away before turning back to me with a curious gaze. “What about Rivers? Will you be needing work for him too? I know he’s been missing quite a bit of school since the accident.”
I quickly shake my head. “No, it’s ok,” I tell him, hating the sour taste it leaves in my mouth. “Thanks though.”
Carver hurries off to grab Tully’s work while I look across at the other teachers with an expectant expression covering my features. I take a seat and give them a sarcastic smile. “Please, don’t rush. I have all day.”
They scurry into action.
I watch in amusement as some power up their computers and start printing off sheets of work, some photocopy pages from textbooks and start highlighting passages, while others go over their notes, most likely already having forgotten what was covered during class.
