My eyes skim over his honed body and I struggle to not laugh. “Yeah, that’d be great. I hate running alone,” I lie.
“’Kay. See you tomorrow?”
“Seven a.m.” I feel my body lighten. Emmett isn’t angry with me. All is right in the world.
“And Aria?” He’s walking backward toward the house. He hasn’t called me by my real name in forever. “Thanks. You could have deleted that and ignored it, instead of telling me.”
I shrug. “Cassie deserves better than that.” I hesitate. “And so do you.”
I catch a hint of those dimples with his soft smile. “’Night.”
11
I’m already halfway through my warm-up when Emmett emerges the next morning. I yank one earbud out so I can hear him.
He shudders, rubbing his hands together. “Damn, it’s cold.”
“This is my favorite weather to run in,” I stretch my hamstrings. I was happy to trade in my shorts and T-shirt for my track pants and sweatshirt.
“What are you listening to?” He stops within my personal space, grabbing the dangling earbud and tucking it into his ear.
I shrug. “It’s a mix.”
“Nice.” He drops the bud and moves away to begin his warm-up.
And I acknowledge with perverse pleasure that I can’t wait to stick that back into my ear.
Maybe I am a weirdo.
“How are you doing?” I ask gently.
“Better, after sleeping.” He lifts his arms over his head, showing off a patch of taut skin above his shorts. My mouth instantly dries. “But Cassie’s pissed at me.”
I frown. “I didn’t think she could be pissed at anyone.”
He snorts. “Just me and my parents, I think. I was a bit of an asshole last night. I took her phone and deleted all of Holly’s contact info, and told her she’s not allowed to message Holly anymore. Of course, then she kept pushing to know why exactly, and it’s not like I’m going to tell her. It would crush her if she found out that Holly was only ever friends with her to get to me.” He frowns. “I don’t even know if Cassie would understand. Sometimes I can’t figure out what she actually understands.”
I’ve thought those very same things. “That has to be tough.” But I love that Emmett’s opening up to me about it.
“Yeah. I’m dreading class this morning.” He tucks his earbuds in and brings up his playlist on his phone. “Ready?”
I nod. “Let’s do this.”
* * *
The first bell rings as Jen and I walk into social studies.
Despite my best intentions to avoid eye contact, I zero in on Holly right away. She’s sitting at a desk near the back corner of the class, her puffy, tired eyes set on the door. Our gazes meet and hers quickly moves on, dismissing me entirely.
She’s waiting for Emmett.
And when she suddenly sits up taller and bites her lip in hopeful pause, I know he has arrived. He was still at his locker a moment ago. He must have run to catch up.
“Hey, Jen?” He sidles up behind us. “Can I sit with AJ today?”
“Uh …” Jen’s eyebrows arch as they veer to Holly, her face a mixture of reluctance and confusion. I can’t imagine her wanting to spend the next hour sitting beside her childhood bully.
I’m about to say as much when Emmett stops Holly’s friend, Lindsay, who normally sits with a guy I’ve nicknamed Sleepy Steve, because he literally sleeps through first period. Even McNair has given up on trying to keep him awake. “Hey, you mind sitting with Holly today?”
Lindsay shrugs, though her eyes dart curiously to her friend. It seems that Holly hasn’t shared the news of the breakup yet. Maybe she’s still hoping to reverse it before anyone finds out. “Yeah, no problem.” She heads to the back of the class.
Emmett gives Steve a look that might read as “You good with this, man?” Steve merely gives a lazy “I don’t give a shit” shrug. His head will hit the desk soon enough.
Emmett slides into the seat next to me just as the second bell goes and morning announcements come on over the PA. “Thanks for doing this, Jen.”
“No problem.” Her eyes lock on mine, widening with question.
I hold my hands up in surrender, as if I’m an innocent bystander. But I am, I remind myself. I’m the conscientious messenger.
“You’re good with this, right?” Emmett flips open his textbook. He peers at me with those gentle, dark-brown eyes. “If you want to switch back with Jen tomorrow—”
“No.” I shake my head in emphasis. “This is fine.” I smile.
And do my best to ignore the burn of scathing eyes boring into my skull for the next hour.
* * *
“Someone recorded her saying crap about his little sister in the bathroom and then sent it to him.”
I stare at Josie, momentarily dumbstruck. It’s the most she’s ever said in one sitting. And it’s about me.
“I heard she accused Mandy Lovatt but they figured out that someone must have been hiding in the stall, listening to them,” Jen adds.
Josie’s delicate face scrunches up. “Creepy.”
I lock my gaze on the homemade zucchini loaf Mom snuck into my lunch, picking it apart slowly as dread blossoms. What if people find out I’m the creepy one?
“I wonder what she said about Cassie.” Jen takes a bite out of her ham sandwich, her curious eyes drifting across the cafeteria to where Holly and Mandy sit.
“Couldn’t have been good because Emmett dumped her ass over it in the parking lot after school yesterday.”
Wow. Josie’s not only talking, she’s swearing too.
I feel Jen’s eyes shifting to me. Will either of them put two and two together and figure out why I was asking about Holly last Friday, after having gone to the bathroom? Will they remember that I was gone for a long time, that I came back pale-faced?
News of Emmett and Holly’s breakup is spreading like flames through dry brush. I started hearing the whispers in math, when Beckett Smith leaned across the row to tell Morris Davenport that “Hartford’s flying solo” again, followed by a fist bump.
By the time I went to swap my books for third period, a tall, raven-haired beauty was hovering at Emmett’s locker, waiting for him to appear. And when he did, the flirtatious smile she was casting his way made me want to vomit.
Josie drags her french fry through her ketchup. “I always knew Holly had a mean streak in her.”
Jen worries her bottom lip. “What’s she going to be like now that she’s done trying to impress Emmett?” Her thoughts are somewhere far off. Probably in her tortured past. It’s a fair question, though. Was playing the part for Emmett the only thing that kept Holly’s ugly side collared?
“We won’t let her come after you like that again,” I say with certainty.
She gives me a small nod and appreciative smile, though I get the impression she doesn’t believe it.
* * *
I wriggle my nose against the smell of bleach, wet dog fur, and cat urine as we step into the empty lobby of E.A.S—an old house that’s serving as the Eastmonte Animal Shelter until they can rebuild the one that burnt down two years ago.
“Hello, boys and girls!” Cassie yells.
A wild chorus of howls and piercing barks from beyond a sky-blue door respond, making Cassie laugh.
A short, silver-haired lady emerges moments later. “You love to get them going, don’t you?” Her eyes crinkle with her smile, not at all annoyed.
“Yeah. I can hear Bangles.” Cassie laughs again. “Has Boots had her kittens yet?”
“Not yet. Any day now.”
“Okay.” Cassie nods. “This is my friend, AJ. She came to see the dogs and cats with me.”
“Hi, AJ. I’m Pat.” Pat pauses to straighten an array of pet insurance and adoption pamphlets in a rack on the desk. “You ready for this?”
“I’m not sure,” I confess.
Pat leads us past the door and into a long, narrow room lined with portable metal cages of various
sizes. The distinct smell of dog—sweat, fur, drool—is that much stronger back here, on account of the five dogs of varying sizes and color, already on their feet and panting as Cassie holds her hand out to their cages, greeting each one by name.
“Bangles already had his walk today, but Roger Dodger is ready for you.”
“Hi, Roger Dodger!” Cassie exclaims in a high-pitched, excited voice, bending down to clap and greet a scruffy gray Lhasa Apso, who is attempting to cram his snout through the cage. She fumbles with the latch on the cage. “I can’t do it.”
I move in to help her, but Pat puts a hand up to stop me, winking at me. “Yes, you can, Cassie. Remember, pull up and then turn.”
The dog is tearing around in circles by the time the gate pops open. He comes barreling out to jump on her legs.
“He’s so excited!” Cassie laughs.
“He’s always excited when you show up. You’ll need to get him to calm down before you can get that leash on him. And … AJ, right?” When I nod, Pat continues, leading me to a cage with a heavyset black Lab. “How about you take Murphy? He’s much calmer. These two get along well enough. Come on, Murph.”
The dog hobbles out, favoring his back leg.
“Is he hurt?”
“That’s just hip dysplasia. His previous owners brought him in because he couldn’t handle being in a house with little kids anymore. Too much noise and excitement. He got grumpy.”
Sounds like Uncle Merv. “How old is he?” I scratch the gentle dog’s graying chin. He peers up at me with sad, dark eyes. Wisps of silver fleck his face.
“Oh, he’s an old guy. Over thirteen now. He just hangs out, looking for pats. Don’t you, Murph?” She pets his head. “He’s been here a while now. Will probably be here till the end.”
I study the cage that is his home. “That’s sad.”
“Yeah, I know. But it’s hard to get anyone to take a big old dog like this. ’Course Cassie would take the whole lot of them home with her, if her dad wasn’t allergic. Right, Cassie?”
“Yeah. Whoa! Hold your horses, Roger Dodger.” She laughs, letting him lead her toward the back on the leash she somehow managed to affix to his collar.
“Make sure you show AJ what needs to be done. I’ll be with Boots if you need me.”
“’Kay.”
“And Cassie …” Pat gives her a warning look.
“I know!” She grins and holds up a tiny roll of plastic poop bags, as if that’s proof of her intention.
* * *
“I go Tuesdays and sometimes Thursdays,” Cassie says, easing out of Heather’s car. “You can come with me if you want.”
“Two hours a week and you should have your community service hours by the middle of winter,” Heather adds, grabbing her purse from the passenger seat floor. “Cassie, why don’t you go in and wash your hands really well and change.”
“I don’t need to change,” Cassie argues.
Heather makes a point of staring at Cassie’s pants, drawing her daughter’s eyes down to the muddy paw prints all over them.
“Oh. That’s okay,” Cassie says, bending down to wipe at them.
“No, it’s not okay. Put them in your hamper, and put on clean pants from your drawer. Not from your floor.”
“Mom! Shhh!” Cassie’s eyes narrow with annoyance.
“I’ll be there in a minute. I need to talk to Aria alone first.”
Cassie lingers.
“I’m asking you politely to give us a moment.”
Cassie doesn’t move, her jaw setting with stubborn determination.
“Cassie!”
“Fine!” Spinning on her heels, she stomps up the path, pausing a few times as if reconsidering her compulsion to obey her mother, muttering something about not having to listen to her. Does she realize that she already is?
Heather sighs heavily, then turns her soft gray-blue eyes on me. “Do you know what happened between Emmett and Holly? All he told me is that they broke up.”
“Uh …” What do I say? I know exactly why they broke up, and I can play the reason for you right here, on my phone?
“I know. I’m sorry to corner you like this, but I’m not going to get more out of him, and he made Cassie so upset last night.”
“Yeah, she seemed a bit annoyed with him.” When Cassie and I passed the parking lot after school today, Emmett was pulling out. He waved at us. Cassie lifted her hand partway to respond before abruptly dropping it, as if she had just remembered that she’s still angry with him. And Cassie’s facial expressions are priceless. Her smiles are wide but her frowns are equally deep, and as much as she sometimes has trouble showing the right emotions for the occasion, when she gets it right … boy, does she get it right.
She outright glowered at her brother as he drove by.
“He’s adamant that she stays away from Holly and, well, as you know, Cassie doesn’t have a lot of friends to begin with. I wouldn’t want her to lose a friendship, however shallow it may be, because of her brother’s broken heart.” There’s a flash of raw vulnerability in her eyes. “If someone could help me understand—”
“You shouldn’t. Let Holly near Cassie, I mean.” I swallow. “Holly isn’t as nice as she makes herself out to be. She’s pretty horrible, actually. Some of the things she said recently about Cassie, and other people, were terrible. Or so I’ve heard,” I add quickly, and hope she doesn’t push for details. Though, there’s a chance she and my mother will talk over lunch, and my mother will divulge the bathroom recording fiasco.
Heather sighs, her jaw tightening a touch. “I always did wonder about that girl. She seemed too perfect, but she was always outwardly nice to Cassie so what could I say?”
“She is nice. Outwardly.”
“I’ve spent the last ten years, since Cassie started school, trying to shield her from the kids who might be cruel to her. I can usually see it in their eyes—the way they look at her. Or the way they brush her off. It’s always so nice when she finds someone who’s willing to give her a bit of time and respect. And patience.” I can’t help but notice the way her eyes gloss over and she blinks repeatedly.
“Mom! There’s no clean pants!” Cassie calls from the front door of their house.
Heather seems to search her thoughts. “Oh, that’s right. I haven’t folded them yet.”
“Mom!”
“I’ll be there in a minute!” Heather smiles at me. “Thank you for being a friend to Cassie, and for looking out for her.”
“Mom!”
“As much as she may test you sometimes.” She takes the same path toward the house that her daughter so insolently stomped up not long ago.
“Bye, AJ! See you tomorrow!” Cassie waves wildly at me, the smile on her face infectious.
12
Dear Julia,
I’m conflicted.
I HATE cross-country mornings, because I don’t get to run with Emmett, or drive in to school with him. BUT on the mornings I don’t have practice, I get Emmett all to myself in the morning for a half hour—no Cassie, no McNair—BECAUSE of cross-country.
Deep thoughts at 1:00 a.m. as sleep evades me, yet again.
Tomorrow’s a cross-country morning, and I’m dreading it. Holly missed last Wednesday’s and Friday’s practices. I was hoping she’d dropped out, but I overheard Ms. Moretti telling someone she’d be back tomorrow. Even if she isn’t, I can’t see Moretti kicking her off. We’re already down one runner, now that Emmett’s gone, and Holly’s a decent runner, as much as I hate to admit that.
So, I have to assume she’ll be back tomorrow morning, which means either I run behind her or deal with burning-hot laser beams drilling into the back of my head, and let me tell you, I’m getting tired of feeling those all first period, for just sitting next to Emmett.
And if she’s going to hate on every girl who goes near Emmett, she had better make a long list because, oh my God, Julia … You would not believe how many girls are suddenly lurking around him, batting their eyes and b
umping into him in the halls. And they’re ALL pretty.
And every time I see him stop to talk to one of them, I convince myself that she’s the one he’s going to fall for next.
~AJ
* * *
I spot Holly warming up when I reach the school the next morning.
I intentionally head for the opposite side of the group to avoid her.
“Hey, AJ. How was your weekend?” Richard bounds back and forth from one leg to the next, lifting his knees with each step. He has swapped his usual yellow sweatband for an orange one.
I stretch out my hamstrings. “Quiet. What about yours?”
“Oh, it was just the best weekend of my entire existence. No big deal.”
I can’t help but chuckle. Richard’s intensity goes beyond his efforts with cross-country. There’s a lot of “extra” with everything he says and does. It’s earned him some uncomplimentary looks along the hallways but, much like Jen with her odd clothing choices, either he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
I think I respect him for it.
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Me and the guys clocked in an epic twenty-two hours straight of Dungeons and Dragons. We were delirious.”
I frown. “Dungeons and Dragons? What’s that?”
He pauses, his mouth agape. “‘What’s that?’ she asks. It’s only the greatest role-playing game known to mankind.”
“Hey, Aria, can I talk to you for a sec?” Holly’s voice is especially sweet as she cuts into my conversation with Richard.
I stifle my groan. So much for avoiding her. As much as I want to call her out for the crap she said about me, it won’t help matters. It sure as hell won’t help team dynamics. Still, I struggle to keep my own voice light. “What’s up?”
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