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“Congratulations, Mr. Bell. You’ve received the first detention of the year. And it’s only six minutes into second period. That must be some kind of record.”
“But I’m trying to work on my story! I’m havingideas.You can’t stifle my creativity!”
Mr. Hanson, who was seven hundred years old if he was a day, said, “That’s all well and good. Except this is trigonometry, and I distinctly remember you avoiding summer school by the skin of your teeth, so it would be in your best interest to pay attention.”
The class snickered around them as Nick sunk into his seat. He opened his mouth to invite Mr. Hanson to give examples of when something as ridiculous as trigonometry would ever be used in the real world, but he remembered the promise he’d made to his dad and decided against it. He was already going to get it if Dad found out about getting detention on the first day. Luckily for him, Dad was on shift tonight and would already be gone by the time Nick got home. He’d text him later to tell him he was hanging out with friends to cover his bases.
A couple of people seated next to him whispered back and forth while glancing at him, laughing quietly.
Nick flipped them off.
The girl gasped.
The guy glared at him.
Nick felt better.
Until he heard his phone vibrate in his backpack a moment later.
Most everyone had to turn their phones off completely during class. Nick was one of the few exceptions. After Mom had—afterthat—Nick had been prone to spiral rather quickly, thinking aboutall the things that could happen. She was supposed to have been safe; she was a lawyer for heaven’s sake. Sure, she dealt with some of the worst types of people, but she was always all right. She knew how to take care of herself. If anything, it was his father who put himself in harm’s way every day.
And soAfter—because there was an After just as sure as there was a Before—Nick couldn’t stop thinking about how dangerous Dad’s job was.
One day, sitting in freshman English, he’d spiraled. One moment his blood was rushing in his ears, and the next, he was lying on the floor, curled up into a ball, trying to remember how to breathe, thinking thoughts ofwhat if what if what if.Becausewhat ifsomething happened to his dad?What ifhe never came home? Nick would be alone. There was no one else. Cousins, maybe, out west, but he’d never met them. Would he have to go with them? Who would take care of him if thewhat ifbecame something real?
The haze of sheer panic hadn’t begun to clear until he’d heard a familiar voice at his ear, telling him to breathe, just breathe, that everything would be okay, Nicky, everything was going to be okay, breathe, breathe, breathe.
It was Seth, of course.
Somehow, he’d known.
Later, when his dad had come running into the school, a haunted look on his face that had yet to fade in the few short months since his wife’s death, it was decided that Nick would always have access to his phone, just in case. He’d have to keep it on vibrate so it wouldn’t disrupt the other students, and he couldn’t abuse it, but he could keep it switched on in the event of an emergency.
The memory of the day his father had come for him was sharper, now. Even though he knew Dad was at home asleep, his heart still managed to trip all over itself as he reached for his phone.
Making sure Hanson wasn’t watching, Nick set it on his leg and looked down.
OWEN, the screen read.
He turned to glare at Owen, sitting a few desks over.
Owen waggled his eyebrows right back in that devastatingly handsome way he did.
He thought about ignoring it. It would be the smart thing to do. And Nick was smart. At least four people thought so.
Owen nodded toward Nick’s phone.
Nick sighed.
He swiped open the text.
PAY ATTENTION.
He hated Owen Burke. Mostly.
Sometimes he liked him. He liked the way his skin tingled when Owen had kissed him, had liked the way Owen could make him laugh. He didn’t necessarily like Owen as aperson,but that was because Owen was an ass who didn’t seem to care who he stepped on to get what he wanted.
