Chapter Thirty-eight Lacey
Chapter Thirty-eight
Lacey
You can do this. It’s no big deal. You’re just being polite. It would be weirder if you didn’t go over there and talk to him.
These are the things I tell myself as I stare at Vaughn and his locker and try to make my feet walk over to him. Someone bumps into me from behind, and the momentum gets me going at last. My heart races, and my head screams to go back.
“Hey,” I say, stopping next to his locker.
I heard through the grapevine he’s leaving today after school for some showcase in Detroit.
On top of my books, I have a protein bar with a bow on top, but I’m not sure if I’m going to give it to him, so I clutch my books to my chest where he can’t see the gift.
It’s still weird being around him, but I don’t want it to be.
And I can’t decide if giving him a present makes it more or less awkward. “Good luck this weekend.”
“Thanks.” He shuts his locker, removing the small barrier between us and angles his body toward me. “Last game of the season tomorrow night?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You’re going to miss all the homecoming festivities.”
The football game is Friday night, and the dance is Saturday. Not that I expect he would have gone to either anyway. And if he had, he probably would have given it his typical half-hearted, don’t really want to be here attitude.
Vaughn smiles, one of the rare kinds that meets his eyes. I fidget in front of him. I nearly reach for the protein bar but talk myself out of it.
“Anyway, I just wanted to say good luck,” I say instead. “I know you’ll crush it.”
His smile falters slightly before he nods. “Thanks, Lacey.”
I back away from him slowly, then swivel around and head off to class.
For the next few hours I replay the interaction, wishing I had said or done something else.
I hate this. Playing cool and acting like I don’t care is just not me.
I should have given him the gift. Who cares if he knows I still like him?
I think that’s pretty obvious by the way I’m mostly avoiding him.
After lunch, I grab Rowan.
“Do you know Vaughn’s locker combination?” I ask.
His brows lift and he lets out a small laugh. “No. Why would I know that?”
Ignoring his question, I ask another, “Can you still pick a lock?”
He doesn’t laugh again, but he regards me with a healthy dose of amused skepticism. “What are you up to, Lacey-babe?”
“Can you or not?” I whisper as people pass us by. In eighth grade Rowan picked the lock of our Physical Education teacher’s office so we could fill it with balloons as a fun prank. Luckily, no one ever asked for details on how we pulled it off.
“I don’t know. It isn’t a skill I’ve practiced very often since middle school.”
I must look as impatient as I feel, because he scans the hallway in each direction and then moves over to Vaughn’s locker. He grabs the lock and leans down to put his ear close to the dial.
“Yeah, I think I probably can,” he says.
“I’ll be lookout.” Vaughn has Lit this period in the east building, so we should be safe.
The hallways clear quickly. I don’t know how much time passes by before I glance back at Rowan. “How much longer?”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” he says in a distracted, offhand way that has me sweating. What if Vaughn decides to stop back by his locker today? What if he forgot something? What if someone else notices Rowan breaking into his locker?
My body pulses with nervous energy. “Oh my god. Hurry.”
“That’s not helping.” He stops what he’s doing to shoot me an amused, playful glare. If he’s looking at me, he’s not working on the locker. I shoo him back, and he laughs at me.
I resume lookout, smiling at a group of sophomores walking to class. I swear they look back at me with suspicion in their eyes.
Every second that passes has me closer to telling Rowan to forget about it.
My gift is dumb anyway. It isn’t like Vaughn doesn’t have plenty of his own protein bars.
And we aren’t together anymore, so it’s probably awkward.
He’s going to head off to the showcase this weekend thinking I’m a stage-five clinger who can’t take a hint.
He told me he didn’t want to be in a relationship, and here I am breaking into his locker like some sort of stalker. I have never felt more pathetic.
“Okay. Got it.” Rowan’s words take a beat to register.
I know I asked him to pick the lock, but I don’t think I really expected him to do it.
“Oh my god. Really?” I swivel around to verify his claim.
Rowan stands next to Vaughn’s open locker with a proud smile spread across his face.
“Thank you.” I launch myself at him, giddy with excitement. “I am both impressed and slightly frightened that you actually did it.”
He chuckles and gives me a one-armed hug back. “You aren’t going to glitter bomb his locker, are you?”
“No,” I say dryly. I’ve never actually glitter bombed anyone, though I’ve threatened it enough that I should probably learn how to in case I need to make good on it someday.
“I feel like I deserve to know why I just broke into my buddy’s locker,” he says.
“Just make sure he isn’t coming,” I say to Rowan while I pull the protein bar from my pocket, hiding it behind my hands so he can’t see.
He sighs but turns and watches the halls for me.
Quickly, I set my gift on the top shelf where he’ll have no choice but to see it. Adrenaline pumps through me as I hurry so I don’t get caught, but before I can shut the locker door something else draws my attention.
My stare lingers on it for a few seconds before I realize what I’m seeing. Taped on the inside of the metal door is the sign I made for his locker before the semifinal game. His name and number are written in glitter on a blue soccer ball.
Confused, I stare harder at it. I thought he threw it away. That day when Claire and I tore all the signs down, his was missing. It doesn’t make any sense to me why he would have moved his. And why would he put it on the inside of his locker?
Unless…maybe he likes team spirit and pep more than he claims. It’s hard to imagine Vaughn being that sentimental.
I shut the locker and move to stand beside Rowan.
“All done?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He glances back at Vaughn’s locker like he needs to make sure it’s still there and in one piece.
We start down the empty hallway toward our next class.
My mind is still spinning.
“So…” Rowan says. “Committed any crimes lately?”
I smile despite my inner turmoil. Rowan has a way of always making people feel better.
“I’m not the one who picked the lock.”
“Just the mastermind behind the crime then.”
I give him a half-hearted smile. “Why would a guy keep something he doesn’t like?”
He gives me a side glance. “I’m going to need more information.”
I think for a second on how to explain without giving it away. I’m not sure why I don’t want to tell Rowan. Especially when there’s a good chance he already saw it. If he did and hasn’t said anything, then it’s probably nothing and I’m making too big a deal out of it.
“Say a girl gave everyone in class valentines and the guy hates valentines, but he keeps it anyway.”
Rowan’s lips twitch at the corners, but he plays along with my ridiculous scenario.
“Well, then I’d say he either really likes the valentine, or maybe he wants to regift it to someone else.
In fourth grade, I got this really cool Valentine’s Day card with Lightning McQueen on it.
It said, ‘You make my heart go Ka-chow!’” He says it with all the animated enthusiasm he’s capable of.
“It was blank, so I gave it to a girl I liked. Totally worked too.”
I scowl at him. “It has his name on it.”
“Okay.” Rowan chuckles. “Well, if he doesn’t like valentines, and he isn’t going to regift it, then there’s only one other possibility.”
Eagerly, I stare at him for the answer. My heart flutters nervously.
“He must really like her.”