Chapter 9 Shiloh #2
For the next ten minutes, I typed as fast as I could, conscious that the clock was ticking and that Ronan was behind me, relying on me to help save his grade.
“What’s this say?” I asked, holding up the paper where his pen ink had smudged a word.
“Commemorative,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Shiloh…you don’t have to do this. It’s not worth it.”
“Yes, it is,” I said. “Your spelling could use work, and your commas are a disaster, but the paper itself is really damn good. And if Baskin can’t see that, he’s an asshole.”
“But…”
“Hush. I’m working.”
Ronan snorted a small laugh, and twenty minutes later, I was done. I hit Print, and we dashed from the library to the admin building.
Inside, office staff were at their desks or talking in small groups. We hurried to Ms. Oliveri, the front desk administrator.
“Is Mr. Baskin still here?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s gone for the day.”
“Shit.”
Ms. Oliveri arched a brow.
“Come on, Shiloh,” Ronan said. “Let’s go.”
“Never give up. Never surrender.” I looked at Ms. Oliveri. “How long ago did he leave?”
“Not long. A few minutes—”
“Parking lot,” I said and grabbed Ronan’s hand. It was large and strong, calloused from work…like my shed. I tugged him outside the admin building and was still holding his hand as we reached the faculty parking lot.
“Oh, sorry.” I let go quickly and gave him the paper instead. We scanned the lot. “There.”
Baskin was just unlocking the door to his brown Hyundai, juggling keys, a portfolio, and a coffee thermos.
“Mr. Baskin! Wait!”
He watched us approach, a frown under his mustache.
Ronan offered the paper to Baskin, who took it with narrowed eyes, his gaze taking in Ronan’s worn-out jacket and the tattoo peeking from under the sleeve.
He scanned the pages; the more he read, the more the stern lines in his face softened.
He glanced up, unable to keep how impressed he was off his face. Then his judgy frown returned.
“How much help did you give Mr. Wentz?”
“No help. I typed it. A little proofing. That’s it.”
“I wrote it,” Ronan stated.
Baskin’s eyes narrowed again. “Plagiarism is a very serious offense, Mr. Wentz.”
I gaped. “He didn’t…”
“I wrote it,” Ronan repeated.
Baskin pursed his lips. “Teachers have methods of knowing if that’s true or not.” He tucked the paper under his arm. “I’ll see you both on Monday, unless there’s anything else?”
“Nothing else,” I said tightly.
Baskin shot us a final dubious glance. We stepped back, and he drove away.
“What an asshole,” I burst out when he was gone. “That paper is excellent. It’s smart and strong and…deep. It’s one hundred percent you.” I felt Ronan’s eyes on me and realized what I’d said. A flush of heat burned my cheeks. “I mean…anyway, whatever, we did it.”
“You did it,” Ronan said. He was looking at me like he had the other night, and the parking lot—the entire planet—suddenly felt very empty. Just him and me…
“It was nothing,” I said.
“You probably saved my grade. That means a lot.”
The moment caught and held. Me, who planned and prepared to the nth degree, had no clue what was going to happen next. The feeling was woozy and exhilarating at the same time. And completely unacceptable. I was getting in too deep. Too invested in whether this guy passed history.
Too invested, period.
“I gotta go,” I blurted. “Lots of work.”
Ronan stiffened. “Yeah, me too.”
We both turned and went our separate ways, from being alone together to just being alone.
***
Monday afternoon, Violet was absent from history. She’d texted me that she’d been up late studying for the SAT and AP tests. But I knew she was hurting to have to go to school and see Miller holding hands with Amber Blake.
Like a knife in my heart, said her text.
I wished I had something to say to make her feel better, but my own heart was twisted in knots, and talking to Violet about my feelings felt silly compared to everything she was dealing with.
In class, Baskin passed back our Russian Revolution papers. Mine had an A-minus in red ink on the cover page.
“All in all, I’m very impressed,” Baskin said, almost grudgingly. “Some of you picked interesting topics indeed.” He seemed to look at Ronan when he said this.
I itched to know what grade Ronan had received. Not because I cared all that much, I told myself. But to make sure my efforts hadn’t been in vain.
After class, I waited outside. “Well?”
“B-minus,” Ronan said.
“What? That’s bullshit. Your paper was better than mine.”
“I passed. Thanks to you.”
“Nah, I told you. It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. I appreciate it. A lot.” His gray eyes met mine. “Thank you.”
I started to make a joke—my usual defense. Instead, I said softly, “You’re welcome.”
Ronan glanced around and rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous. It was a strange look on him…and sweet.
“So listen, I was thinking. There’s this place…”
I held perfectly still, my pulse counting down the seconds until his next words.
“It’s on the beach. Out of the way, right where the cliffs come down. Miller, Holden, and I hang out there a lot after school and on weekends. Make bonfires, shoot the shit, drink beer.”
“Okay…”
“So maybe…if you wanted to come and hang out with us sometime, you could. If you wanted.”
“You want me to…” My stomach and heart both felt like foreign objects, fluttering with butterflies and beating faster in ways they’d never done with a guy. I struggled to keep my tone casual. “You’re inviting me to the secret hideout of the infamous Lost Boys?”
“Basically.” He looked to the ground, then back to me. “So…you want to?”
Yes!
The thought was so loud, he must’ve heard it. But it was drowned in the sirens and alarms going off, the ones that blared I was already getting too close. And how hurt Violet would be.
“Miller would be there?”
“Of course.”
“Then I can’t. Violet’s my best friend.”
Ronan frowned. “So?”
“So she and Miller are barely speaking.” I shook my head, disappointment biting hard. “The girl he hooked up with the night of the dance is a friend too. It’s all a big mess, and I… I can’t go. I can’t do that to Violet.”
“I get that.” He rubbed his chin; his boot scraped the ground. “Yeah, maybe it’s better anyway… Okay. See you around.”
“Oh, wow…okay,” I said as he walked away without another word. “I guess that’s that.” The sudden end of our weird acquaintance or friendship or whatever it was between us.
Nothing. There is nothing between us.
I watched Ronan blend in with the students at school and disappear.
“I’m better off,” I said out loud, ignoring the pang in my heart that told me that was a lie.