CHAPTER THREE #2
Of course! I’d forgotten. By chance, Ralph had been there one of the numerous times my family was, loading up while we were on our way in. Nick had put up such a fuss in his panic that it’d drawn Ralph and several others over to help.
To be fair, I’d have raised a ruckus as well if someone I knew passed out cold—and I meant that quite literally. My temperature dropped to near hypothermic levels during that nasty episode.
It felt like forever had passed since that day.
In a way, forever had passed.
“Right, ah, no, I was checking the time,” I explained, and he noted the kernel of truth, because he nodded.
“So, listen,” he began, leaning against the wall in the alcove that housed the classroom entrance. The pocket of space he’d carved out for us in the middle of the chaotic hallway suddenly registered as intimate. “We need to talk.”
Talking couldn’t be further from my to-do list if it hijacked a rocket and left the planet. All the outcomes that played in my head ended in disaster—the least painful option being a return trip to the local, real-life loony bin.
Since I’d been stalked and very nearly murdered there while locked in my room and restrained to the bed, it painted a grim picture of how bad all the other scenarios would play out.
“I’d love to,” I began, backing away and clutching my notebook close. “Really, I would, but it’s just—”
“It’s just that you want to play your disappearing trick again?” he deadpanned, locking me in place with his gaze.
My entire body flushed with heat. He made me sweat with a single offhanded statement.
His expression softened beneath his mop of dreads. “Willa, we need to talk. Can we do that? Can you eke out five minutes for us to carry on a conversation instead of shutting us out?”
My heart thudded in my chest. “I—”
“Oh, someone said you might be lurking out here,” a chipper voice interrupted. “Hi, I’m Mrs. Reed, your second period science teacher. Welcome back to school.” The teacher paused and faced Ralph. “Are you trying to make Willa late on her first day back at school?”
Ralph shoved his hands into his pockets and flashed a full-blown, aw-shucks grin. “No, ma’am.”
“Good,” the teacher replied, fighting her own amusement. “Make your way to class, now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He swiveled to face me as he angled down the empty hall.
Hello. When had that happened? The never-ending stream of students had vanished during our conversation with me none the wiser.
Ralph fixed his gaze on me, loaded with meaning. “We’ll talk later, Willa.”
Not if I had any say in it.
Was that immature of me?
Yes.
Was I being a full-blown coward?
One hundred and ten percent.
Was I still going to do my level best to—no pun intended—ghost them?
Yup. Big yup.
I would be the most immature, cowardly lamb in the land.
Unfortunately, the two girls I’d overheard earlier, Kaylee and Urena, Ben’s ex, were the first people I spotted when entering the lab.
Luckily, their combined popularity meant their station already had every seat full, so there was no chance the teacher could sit me with them.
Mrs. Reed cleared her throat right as the bell rang, her hand landing on my shoulder. “Class, we have Willa joining us today.” She pointed with her free hand. “Willa, why don’t you go sit over there, next to Manuel.”
I blinked, readjusting my gaze to catch the wide smirk on none other than Emmanuel, my odd tour guide.
To compound my troubles, it wasn’t that far from Urena and Kaylee. Not far enough by half. In fact, it might even be closer than if I’d sat at their table. I’d have my back to them, and since the walkways were narrow to make room for the large worktables, my chair would almost touch Urena’s.
Depending on how lax Mrs. Reed was with talking during partner work—it was a science class, after all—I’d overhear every bit of their conversation.
Joy.
Some of my nerves over the entire situation leaked out into my actions. My books slammed down on the workspace unnecessarily loudly. I winced and glanced at the teacher. “Sorry.”
The swiftness of my apology must have helped convince her of my innocence because it softened the frown twisting her eyebrows. “Don’t let it happen again.”
The girl behind me whispered something too low to hear, and it sent the entire table into ill-concealed giggles.
Mrs. Reed rolled her eyes. “Enough, ladies. I’ve threatened to separate you multiple times. Do you want me to make good on that?”
“No, Mrs. Reed,” Urena chirped in a sweet voice.
Mrs. Reed started her lecture, and the second she turned to write on the whiteboard, a piece of paper bounced and rolled to a stop on the edge of my open book.
Based on the trajectory, it could have only come from Manuel.
“What?” I whispered.
He rolled his eyes and nodded at the paper. “Open it.”
“No,” I mouthed, too afraid to whisper since the teacher faced the room again.
Mrs. Reed continued her lecture, bouncing between drawing notes on the ebook projected on the board and working the room to utilize the many charts and magnified models to explain the material.
Students pulled out their computers to type on some digital notebook that must have been shared with the class at the beginning of the year—that was, if they didn’t have their heads down or were staring off into space.
Unfortunately, another student had needed the charger in Watkins’s class, so I’d had to share. My computer had died the last three minutes of class, and I’d just pretended to be busy until the bell rang to avoid incurring his wrath.
I pulled out a spiral notepad and flipped to the first page. Then, the next five minutes passed in increasing urgency as any sort of writing utensil evaded my search, even after I’d methodically emptied four of my backpack pockets.
A red ballpen landed on the page in front of me, and I glanced up to see Manuel nod at it. “Use mine.”
I blinked at him, my brain taking a moment to process the kind gesture, before my hand gripped the pen with a slight tremble.
Handwriting would be a challenge. It was one of the main reasons I still took PT.
Writing after my coma ended in infuriation nine times out of ten, knowing a grown man had robbed me of something so elementary.
I disliked the idea that the chief was around, still affecting my life.
My physical therapist, Blakely, had me do a lot of Play-Doh manipulation and several frustrating rounds of Jenga.
During all the preschool activities, why hadn’t she had me practice more writing?
Was it because I got frustrated so easily by the need to relearn it?
Another bed I’d made and had to lie in.
The pen shook in my grip.
I got a shaky word out, “protons.” The letters were so illegible that, even knowing what I’d intended to write, I failed to read the word.
By the time I’d finished that one, Mrs. Reed had moved onto neutrons, coefficients, and balancing formulas.
My eyes burned, and I set the pen down as gently as I could in my disheartened state while cursing Blakely, who’d lied and overstated my progress. And for what? To build my confidence and convince me I was ready for school?
To rub salt in the wound, the girls rekindled their conversation about Ben again.
“Yeah, of course we’ll be there. My mom loved him—”
Another crumpled piece of paper landed in front of me. My throat clogged up, wondering what Manuel wanted.
Without even writing another word since the failed attempt at proton, my hand pretzeled itself into a sharp knot.
The note, the cramping, Ben’s ex…
“—already talked to Chief Pierce, and he said they would be honored if—”
Too much.
It was all too much.
My fight or flight kicked in as I sought an out. “Bathroom!”
The class froze, and I did my best to ignore the attention as Mrs. Reed studied me.