Skinny(39)

“You’re a freak. She doesn’t want you to go. You’re not good enough to hang out with her friends.”

“I can’t go,” I say. “I have an after-school project. Maybe some other time.”

Briella looks relieved. She hooks her arm in Whitney’s and pulls her away.

“Maybe some other time,” Briella calls out over her shoulder.

I stand there for a few minutes watching them leave, their laughter floating back to me. The hallway is emptying out around me, and I’m suddenly reminded the tardy bell is only minutes away. Books. I still need books for my next class. I step ver to my locker and spin the combination, still distracted by what just happened.

“Ever?”

I look up to see Jackson standing beside the lockers. His look is intense and I can see right through the blue in his eyes to the deep green centers. I feel gloriously, deliriously awash in his attention.

“How’s it going?” I try to sound natural.

“You sound like an idiot.”

“Good. How’s your first day?” he asks.

“Good.”

“Can’t you speak? No wonder he never talks to you anymore. Not worth the trouble.”

“So Ms. Lynham was talking in science today about asteroids and meteors and stuff like that.” He blurts it out quick and all in one breath. “And then I thought about that time Rat got that new telescope and we were going to stay up and watch the meteor shower from your backyard. Do you remember that?”

“Yes,” I say. “Of course I do.” I can barely get it out I’m so astonished he’s speaking to me. I’m even more amazed at what he’s saying.

“Your mom made up that big pallet of blankets and blow-up air mattresses on the grass.”

“She was always up for our adventures,” I say. “She went out and bought that outdoor fire pit from Walmart just so we could make s’mores that night while we were waiting for the meteor shower to start. It was a wonder we didn’t burn down the deck.”

Mom always thought a good time was only made better by food. There’s a moment of awkward silence and I realize he must have seen something unguarded in my expression.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “About your mom. She was always so funny and nice and all.”

“Thanks.” There’s another beat of quiet.

“Rat was the only one that saw any meteors that night. You and I both ended up sleeping on my couch in the den, remember?” I say into the sudden silence. I don’t want the good remembering to be swept away by unexpectedly summoned grief.

He laughs. “Yeah, Rat was always . . .” He searches for the word, tapping his forehead with his index finger.

“Special? Stubborn? Crazy?” I have a million words for Rat.

“I was going to say brilliant.”

“That, too.” I smile at him. And he smiles back, those blue-green eyes I know so well crinkling up at the corners, and every thing is great. Until Gigi Retodo walks by and he nods hello as she passes. His eyes follow her for a minute. I want to grab his shoulders and shake him back into focus. On me.

“Look how much prettier she is than you,” Skinny whispers.

I feel my throat tighten and I must make a noise, some kind of sigh or a cough, to strangle the surge of jealousy. Then he does look back at me. For a moment.

“By the way, you look great,” Jackson says, and he runs a quick hand through his rumpled, tousled brown hair.

“Umm . . . thanks,” I stammer.

“I just wanted you to know.” He shifts from one foot to the other. I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything. I just look at him. “Well, I guess that’s it. See you around?”

I nod, still not really knowing how to respond. Jackson is here. In front of me. Talking to me. Complimenting me. It’s like being on a tightrope stretched tautly between two skyscrapers — the past and the future. If I say the wrong thing now, it will be all over. I’ll fall and never see the rest of my life with Jackson.

“Of course, it wouldn’t be that hard to look better than you did before. You were huge.”

“Well, I better go.” He turns and walks away in the direction that Gigi went.

I stand there, still not saying a word, wobbling frantically on the tiny wire, afraid to take a step. I don’t come to life until he disappears out the double doors at the end of the hall. I pull open my locker door in frustration, and it clangs against the side of the wall over the water fountain. Why didn’t I say something?

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

“You like him.” Whitney is suddenly standing beside my locker, her eyes narrowed in speculation.