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We walk the next block in silence. She’s right. I’m sure some people at the party won’t want her there because of her family, but that’s not a good enough reason not to go. When we reach her grandparents’ house, Rory and I stand in front of the walkway, and I watch as she reaches for her books. Taking a step back, I shake my head at her. I’m not letting her off the hook that easily.
“My house is just down the road. Do you see the old oak tree with the tire swing?” She glances to where I’m pointing and nods. “If you don’t want your grandparents to see me picking you up, we can meet there tonight at eight.”
“Jackson—”
“No one is going to say shit about you being a nark. I won’t let them.” I smile down at her, hoping she’ll blindly trust me because I mean every word I say.
I can see her struggling to decide. Rory doesn’t know me well enough to trust me yet, but I want to prove to her that I’m one of the good ones. No one will talk shit or make her feel left out while I’m around. Finally, she nods, and I can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across my face.
“Eight o’clock. I’ll meet you in front of the oak tree,” she says.
Rory reaches for the books again, but instead of giving them to her, I hold out my right hand with my pinky extended.
“Pinky swear?”
“What?”
“Pinky swear that you’ll meet me tonight.”
She wrinkles her nose, probably not knowing what to make of my childish request. Finally, the corners of her mouth curve up into a smile, and she links her pinky finger with mine.
“Pinky swear.”
