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Fuck. That.

Ian and I were friends? Fine. This was what I did for my friends.

“Excuse me,” I said, and diverted away to walk straight down the hall at her. No way she wasn’t pointing that camera at us, because she jerked her head up at my approach.

Her eyes narrowed, and I smiled.

“I’m ready for my close-up,” I told her, and then lifted my middle finger. “Just in case you wanted a real message for your next little puff piece.”

A scattering of giggles went up around us, and Sharon lowered her phone the rest of the way. “You really think you’re funny.”

“Oh, honey, I’m not the one obsessed by me and every step I take.”

A little woo went up around us, and red flushed Sharon’s cheeks. “You know, sooner or later, they’re going to figure out you aren’t worth it.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “If that day comes, I guess I’ll look to you for all your experience with it and what I really shouldn’t do after.”

Dead silence filled the air, and tears welled up in Sharon’s eyes, but the hate in them was hard to miss.

Yeah. It was a lot like kicking a puppy. If it were a vicious little bitch who’d bitten me a few times already.

“Let me know if you need any more clips,” I told her with a little wave, and pivoted to head back to where Ian stood just a few steps behind me. He stared at me, a little wide-eyed, then at Sharon, then back to me. “French is this way,” I told him and tapped his biceps as I passed him.

A step before the door to French, Ian caught my arm. “Frankie?”

“Yes?”

“That was pretty kickass.” The warmth in his voice sent a shiver all the way up my spine. Bad Frankie. Just friends. Keep it just friends.

I grinned. “Well, a friend told me that I used to do that, and maybe I needed to be doing it a little more. See you later.”

In the classroom, I settled into the chair, heart racing and palms sweating. I barely heard a word of the French, and thankfully, it was all stuff we’d studied before.

Did you know there was a tense in French that actually makes everyone groan in despair?

Yep, Madame reminded us that began the following week. Subjunctive tenses, here we come.

Ugh.

By lit, I’d chilled out some. Some.

Then the texts came in.

Jake and Ian had to meet with the principal and the coach at lunch.

My stomach bottomed out.

Archie and Coop still insisted we go out anyway. We needed to eat, they reasoned, and there was nothing to do at school but sit and pace and worry.

They spent the whole lunch hour talking about Coop’s birthday, and try as I much as I wanted, I couldn’t generate the enthusiasm. Not when Archie wanted to give me a high five after they heard about Sharon, or when Coop asked me to tell him what I wanted to do for his birthday in French.

Faking it all the way, I fought to keep it upbeat. But I checked my phone a dozen times. So did they.

The only topic that didn’t come up was me breaking up with Ian. Since Jake knew and he said they’d all talked, I assumed they knew, too.

If they didn’t bring it up, I didn’t want to talk about it.

At school, Archie caught my arm as Coop headed off to class.

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