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Until Sebastian Murdoch and his evening appearance on my roof, and his stupid forgotten phone I had to return. And Madison and all those other jerks turning it into something worthy of upending my world all over again.
“Think about Braden Hall,” I tell myself. Because I need something to focus on to stop the tears. To help me pull it together before I go back in there. “Think about getting away from this place and finding people who won’t think you’re weird.”
My thumping heartbeat slows. I inhale a few slow, deep breaths… wipe away the tears. And finally, push away from the wall and pull my shoulders back before stepping back into the building. The hallways are quiet now; only a few stragglers left before second bell. No one bothers me as I make my way to the office and ask the secretary for a couple of garbage bags, which I tell her Mrs. Lantner asked me to get for art class.
By the time I head back toward the student center, the halls are completely empty. Except when I approach my locker. There’s one person still there.
Sebastian Murdoch.
He’s standing right in front of my open locker with his back to me. I come to a halt a few feet away; ready to turn on my heel and leave, because I do not have the energy to deal with his brand of mockery or stupidity or…anythingright now.
Only he must hear me, because he turns his head, and something flickers in his eyes. It doesn’t look like scorn, though. Or ridicule.
Still, it’s Sebastian Murdoch. It’s not like he’s got a whole range of emotions at his disposal. I’m pretty sure three is his maximum Jock Boy quota.
“What are you doing in my locker?” I demand.
His head pulls back, eyebrows furrowed. And I mean, seriously? How slowly can this guy’s brain work, that every single little question confuses him?
He glances back at my locker, and that’s when I notice he’s holding something.
A garbage can. Which he’s holding up to the top shelf of my locker. He’s got a ruler in his other hand… and the jellyfish is gone.
“I just thought you probably booked it home,” he says, lowering the garbage can to the floor. He tosses the ruler into the bin. “Your locker would have smelled like shit……” He rolls his eyes. “Evenmorelike shit,” he amends, “if that thing stayed in there overnight.”
“So, you broke into my locker… to clean it?”
His eyebrows crease. Again. “Um, yeah?”
“Why?”
“I just told you. So it wouldn’t stink even worse tomorrow.”
It still doesn’t answer my question. Not really. Because why would Sebastian Murdoch skip the beginning of his next class to clean a dead jellyfish out of my locker?
Only wait. There is one reason.
“I’m still not going to tutor you.”
And there’s that confused look again. “What?” And then. “Why would—” He shakes his head and leans down to pick up a bottle of spray cleaner I hadn’t noticed just by his left foot. He sprays the top shelf and wipes it with a cloth. “Someone just broke into your locker and left a dead jellyfish in it, and you’re still thinking about that tutoring thing?” He actually chuckles. “You’re just… Wow.”
I’m just what? Now I’m the one who’s confused.
Sebastian does a final pass of the locker shelf, then tosses the cloth into the garbage can. He turns, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Done.” He grins. Then his eyes lower to the garbage for a second and the grin falters. “That’s too bad… about the jellyfish.”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
I still don’t understand. Him. This. Any of the past five minutes.
But I’m fairly confident this was not some extension of the jellyfish prank. Sebastian Murdoch just cleaned my locker because he genuinely feels bad. Or at least, bad about how horrible the stench would be tomorrow if my locker was left unattended overnight. But also, bad about the dead jellyfish. Which is kind of… redeeming.
“Um, well… thank you,” I say. But my voice is so soft I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear me.
He looks up again. He rakes a hand through his hair and the corner of his mouth lifts, and I am struck again by how beautiful he is. And how unfair that is.
“No worries.” He drops his hand, and the wavy locks fall back over his forehead. He glances back at the locker. “You want me to shut it again? Or…” His voice trails off.
My throat suddenly feels really dry. I swallow. “Oh, um. It’s fine.” I nod. “I need to get a book, so I’ll lock it after.”
