“Yup. See ya later, Beth.”
“Bye.” I watch him go, noticing the way his dark blond hair shines gold under the rosy tones of the sunset. How ironic that Chase’s parents want him to get away, but he’s determined to stay here and beat himself up every day, whereas I can’t wait to escape the stranglehold of my parents.
But Chase feels like he can’t start over or, at least, doesn’t deserve to. And for me, no matter how many times I tell people I’m Beth, I’m still going to be Lizzie to them. No matter where Chase goes, he’ll always have a record. It’s a juvenile record and it’s sealed, but it’s there.
Those truths float around inside me and sink like rocks thrown into a pond. Chase’s light gait has disappeared, replaced by a heavier one, as if an invisible weight is bearing down on him. Only, it’s not invisible. It’s me. I’m the weight. I’m the flesh-and-bone manifestation of his guilt.
Even if I were okay with the past, I don’t think Chase will ever be.
21
“You’re in a good mood today,” Scarlett says as we hit our lockers before Calc class.
“Am I?” I glance at myself in the mirror. I don’t look any different than I did yesterday. I pinch my cheek. “I put some lip gloss on this morning.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s not the lip gloss. Come on, spill. Why are you all smiley?”
I turn toward her. “I signed a contract thing with my parents that says I promise to be a good girl and in exchange I get some of my privileges back,” I confess.
Scar’s eyes widen. “Holy shit. Is that why your mom invited us to lunch this weekend?”
“I think so. And they gave me back my phone, car and door.”
She snickers. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone say they’re getting their door back.”
“I know, right?”
She checks her reflection in the mirror, dabbing at the corner of her mouth to fix her lipstick. “Is it, like, a legal contract?”
I snort. “Um, doubtful. If they go back on their word, I don’t think Judge Judy is going to order them to fulfill the terms or pay some fine.”
“Imagine you took it to court,” Scar says, starting to laugh. “That would be both badass and insane.” Before I can blink, she throws her arms around my neck. “But whatever, I’m so happy for you! I’m glad they’re not being total tools anymore.”
“God, me, too.”
A commotion at the end of the hall breaks up our hug. We both turn to see Troy and his pals circling Chase.
My shoulders tense. Why can’t those assholes just leave Chase alone? He’s as tall and built as any of the football guys, but everyone knows Chase won’t fight back if they knock him around. He can’t afford to get in trouble at school, and he tries hard not to draw attention to himself.
“Want to come to the game on Friday?” Scarlett chirps, shifting her gaze away from the group of guys.
I glare at the football players. “No.” I’d rather poke my eyeballs out than cheer for those bullies.
Across the hall, Chase keeps a steady forward movement, not looking to the right or the left. How he maintains that bubble, I will never know.
“Please. I don’t want to go alone,” Scar is saying.
I tear my gaze off Chase and refocus on my friend.
“Yvonne is going away on a school visit and Macy’s got a club volleyball tournament.”
I narrow my eyes. “You hate football,” I remind her.
“It’s not about the football.”
That makes me grin. “Ah, okay. So who’s the guy?”
Her eyes instantly slide away. Since when does Scarlett hide what boy she’s interested in? I’m not sure I like that.
“Really? He’s that shady that you can’t tell me about him?”
Then I shut up because who am I to talk.
“Just come, okay?” she asks quietly.
“Okay.” I capitulate, because if I go to the game she’ll have no choice but to confess who she’s crushing on.
“Yes,” she says happily. “You’re the best!”
She hugs me again, just as Troy and his buddies approach us.
“If you two are going to make out, can I take some pictures?” Troy leers as he walks by.
“You’re so gross.” I move to the side. “You’re sure you want to go to the game?” I ask Scar loudly.
She wrinkles her nose. “It’s not like we’re going to cheer for them. We don’t like losers.”
Troy scowls and takes a step toward us. Chase’s hard frame appears, cutting off Troy’s line of sight. I grab Scarlett’s hand and we book it to class.
“It’s Jeff,” she blurts out when we reach the door.
I look around. “Where?”
“No. Jeff. Jeff is the guy I want to see at the game.”
I’m dumbstruck for a moment. “Jeff? Rachel’s Jeff?” And then immediately regret my thoughtless words when Scar visibly shrinks. “No, wait. He’s not Rachel’s Jeff anymore. I was just...” Wow, I’m kind of like my parents, still keeping Rachel alive in my head. “Jeff doesn’t belong to anyone. Definitely not to anyone with the last name Jones,” I finish.
She peeks at me under long eyelashes. “You’re not mad?”
“No. Gosh no.”
“I thought you might be interested in him, but he said that you weren’t. Like, he was really forceful about it.” She still sounds worried, though.
“He’s right. I’m not interested.” Especially not after he abandoned me at the party.
The thought makes me hesitate. I should tell Scarlett about that, but how? If I say anything now, she might chalk it up to jealousy. Or she may feel even guiltier. Either way, I’ll have to keep it to myself until a better opportunity arises.
“If it’s Jeff you want, Jeff it will be,” I declare, hopefully as forcefully as Jeff denounced me.
Scarlett squeals. “Yay! It’ll be fun. We’ll get dinner at Mixed and then head to the game. We can all meet up at my house afterward. I’ll have my parents call yours.”
“Sounds good.” I try to be cheerful for Scar’s sake, but I don’t know how thrilled I am about her liking Jeff.
When he was dating Rachel, I thought he was the greatest guy in the world. But truth is, I didn’t know him too well. Since he’s come back to Darling, I’ve gotten to know him better, particularly the night of the Lincoln party, and—I have to be honest again—the more I know of him, the less I like.
But I can’t say that to Scarlett, because she looks so excited about this Friday night plan. Also, because Jeff is sauntering our way.
“Hey, hotties,” he says with a wink.
Jeff joins us, slings an arm around both of our shoulders. “Let’s skip out and go to Starbucks for a midmorning snack.”
“We’re not supposed to leave campus unless it’s for lunch,” I remind him.
“Today no one will care,” Jeff promises.
“What a great idea, Jeff,” Scarlett says enthusiastically. A little too enthusiastically for someone who’s agreed to spend too much money for a box lunch with three apple slices, eight grapes and a pita bread the size of your palm. But Scar’s beaming. True love never gets hungry. “Come with us.” She tugs on my arm.
I give in again. “Sure. Why not?”
“Okay. Meet me after Calc. I’m skipping.” He bends over with a hand to his stomach. “Stomach flu.”
He scampers off to the nurse’s station, high-fiving Troy on the way.
“Isn’t he funny?” Scar coos.
True love doesn’t need a good sense of humor.
“Hilarious,” I say and then hurry to the classroom before Scar’s crush requires more lies from me.
We’re ten minutes into AP Calc when the classroom phone rings. Mrs. Russell throws down the dry-erase marker and stomps over to answer. She’s not happy with the interruption. Troy uses the time to throw wadded-up notebook paper at Chase’s back.
“Mr. Donnelly. You need to go to the principal’s office. Your probation officer is on the phone.”
Troy and his friends erupt in jeering laughter.
My stomach drops. How does Chase stand it? My fingers curl into a fist, but I keep my eyes pinned to my desk because if I see even the smallest hint of pain in his face, I’m going to lose it.
Chase leaves, his gait stiffer than normal but his head still high.
“He’s tough,” Scarlett admits in a whisper. “I couldn’t stand this abuse.”
I’m startled. Scarlett’s been pretty vocal with her anti-Chase sentiments—Jeff’s rubbing off on her, I guess. But she sounds genuinely sympathetic right now.
“I wouldn’t be able to stand it, either,” I whisper back.
Minutes elapse. Mrs. Russell scribbles a formula on the board. I jot it down carefully just in case Chase needs it later.
Troy and his cronies are whispering about something. I try to tune them out, but Manson catches my attention. I lean back as nonchalantly as possible.
“...catch him...kick out...finally.”
Worried, I glance at the clock. It’s been nearly ten minutes. I raise my hand.
“Yes, Ms. Jones?”
“I need a bathroom pass.”
“Come and get it.” The teacher nods to the key on the desk.
Scarlett shoots me a questioning glance.
I’ll tell you later, I mouth. Although what I’ll tell her, I haven’t decided.
I grab the key and hurry down the hall. Halfway toward the principal’s office, I see Chase returning to the classroom.
“Hey.” I give him a little wave. “What was that all about?”
He shrugs and keeps walking.
I fall in step beside him, wishing he’d say something. What did his probation officer want? Is he going to be taken away?