Chapter 1 #2
“Oh my God!” I shout, grabbing the knife and stuffing it into my backpack before anyone else can see. “Do you want to get arrested?”
“I’m really not that tired,” Oliver says.
I sigh. “No knives. Ever. Understand?”
His eyes flicker with remorse. “There’s just so much here that’s . . . different,” he says.
“I know,” I empathize. “That’s why you’ve got me.
” I take off the numeric lock, using the code on the back of Oliver’s schedule, and replace it with a padlock whose combination is five letters.
“Watch,” I say, using my thumb to roll the wheels until they spell E-D-A-H-E. “Everyone deserves a happy ending.”
“I think I can remember that.” He grins and backs me against the lockers. “You know what else I remember?”
His eyes are as green as a summer field, and as easy to get lost in.
“I remember the first time I saw you,” Oliver says. “You were wearing that shirt.”
When he looks at me like that, I can’t even remember my name, much less what I’m wearing today. “I was?”
“And I remember the first time I did this,” he adds, and he leans in and kisses me.
Suddenly I hear a voice over my shoulder. “Um,” a boy says. “You guys are kind of draped across my locker?”
Oh God. I’ve become BrAngelo.
Immediately I shove Oliver away and tuck my hair behind my ears. “Sorry,” I mutter. “Won’t happen again.” I clear my throat. “I’m Delilah, by the way.”
The kid jerks the metal door open and looks at me. “Chris,” he says.
Oliver extends his hand. “I’m Oli—”
“Edgar,” I interrupt. “His name is Edgar.”
“Yes. Right,” Oliver says. “That is my name.”
“I feel like I haven’t seen you before,” I say to Chris.
“I’m new. Just moved here from Detroit.”
“I just moved here too,” Oliver replies.
“Oh yeah? Where from?”
“The kingdom of—”
“Cape Cod,” I blurt out.
Chris snorts. “She doesn’t let you talk much, man. Where are you guys headed?”
“Edgar’s got chemistry with Mr. Zhang,” I say.
“Cool, me too. I’ll see you there?” Chris shuts his locker and, with a wave, walks down the hall.
Oliver watches him. “How come he’s allowed to wave?”
I roll my eyes. It’s 8:15 a.m. and I’m already exhausted. “I’ll explain later,” I say.
I have enough time to drop Oliver off at his chemistry classroom before I have to head to French. As we turn the corner, Jules slips up behind us and links her arm through mine. “Guess who broke up,” she says.
Oliver smiles. “This must be the famous Jules.”
“Reports of my awesomeness are usually underrated,” Jules answers. She gives Oliver a once-over and then nods and turns to me. “Well done.”
“I’m kind of in a rush—I’m trying to get him to Zhang’s room before the bell rings,” I explain.
“Trust me, you want to hear this. . . . Allie McAndrews and Ryan Douglas?”
Oliver looks at me, questioning.
“Prom queen and king,” I explain quickly.
He looks impressed. “Royalty.”
“They think they are,” Jules agrees. “Anyway, they broke up. Apparently being faithful comes as easily to Ryan as Shakespeare.”
Having been in Ryan’s English class last year, I know that’s saying a lot.
“Speak of the devil,” says Jules.
As if we’re watching a soap opera, Allie turns the corner, flanked by her posse. From the opposite direction, simultaneously, Ryan swaggers down the hall. We bystanders freeze, holding our breath, waiting for the inevitable train wreck.
“Oh, look! What a rare sighting,” Allie says loudly. “A man-slut in the wild!” Her girls giggle in response.
Ryan looks her up and down. “Did you eat all your feelings, Allie?”
At that, Allie propels herself at him, claws out.
Just in time, a kid steps between them—James, the president of the LGBT Alliance, who has his own bow tie business and runs conflict-resolution training for student mentors.
“Walk it off, girlfriend,” James says to Ryan, who shoves him into the wall.
“Back off, fairy,” Ryan growls.
Before I realize what’s happening, Oliver is no longer standing next to me. He’s heading straight for Ryan.
“Oh crap,” Jules says. “You had to date a hero?”
But Oliver rushes past Ryan, moving toward James, who’s now sprawled on the ground. He extends a hand and helps James up. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, thanks,” James replies, brushing himself off.
This is good, this is really good. Oliver has created the best reputation possible. Everyone is looking at him as if he is a champion.
Including Allie McAndrews.
Oliver puts a hand on James’s shoulder. “Fairies here are much bigger than I expected,” he says, delighted.
For a moment, time stops. Something flickers across James’s face—disappointment. Resignation. Pain.
What happens next is so fast I can barely see it: James pulls back his arm and socks Oliver hard so that he falls backward, knocked out cold.
Oh yeah. This is gonna be a great year.
I fly to Oliver’s side, crouching down. By now the crowd has scattered, afraid of repercussions. I help him sit up; he winces as he leans against the wall.
“Let me guess,” Oliver mutters. “Fairy means something different here?”
But I can’t answer, because when I look at him I see it: the trickle of black from his nose, the stains on his white shirt.
“Oliver,” I whisper. “You’re inking.”