Beau looked unaffected by the cold. His blood was probably pumping hot from his workout. They had to look as chilled as they felt huddled on the ground. The tip of Emmaline’s nose was bright pink.
“What are you guys doing out here?” he asked.
Emmaline’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Nothing.” The defensiveness was there, plain to hear.
Hayden smirked.
“You need a ride home today, Pigeon?” Beau asked her, using that stupid nickname again.
“Hayden here is giving me a ride home,” she quickly supplied.
Hayden blinked, glancing at her in surprise for a split second before she masked it. “Um. Yeah. I got her covered, Sanders.”
“I didn’t know you two were friends.”
This time Hayden narrowed her eyes on him. “Why so shocked?”
“Did I say I was shocked?”
“You’re sure acting like it,” she accused. “What’s the matter? Afraid I will be a bad influence?”
Clearly he was. Because yeah. She was.
Hayden might be only a year older than Emmaline, but she felt like she had miles on her, and Beau knew that.
Beau lived one street over from Hayden in Pleasant Ranch.
They had similar backgrounds, both being raised by single moms, living in crapped-out, shoebox-small ranch-style homes. Although her place was probably more run-down than his. Who was she kidding? It definitely was. She lived in a shithole.
Beau made obvious efforts. She’d spotted him mowing his yard over the years, cleaning the gutters and doing all manner of maintenance and upkeep on his house. She never worried about that kind of thing. Food, clothing, her future. That’s what she cared about.
Hayden had fooled around with Beau back in eighth grade. He was the first boy she French-kissed. They both took the school bus back then and got dropped off at the same stop. Two latchkey kids left to their own devices with stirring hormones. Making out was inevitable.
Once Beau started ninth grade and made varsity football, he never took the bus again. Upperclassmen with cars were always willing to give Beau a ride until he turned sixteen and got his own wheels.
After that, Beau and Hayden moved in different circles. They never hooked up again.
She used to see him drive past her as she waited at the bus stop. In the cold, in the rain, she’d wait for the bus and watch him drive past with one friend or another. Never a glance. Never a wave. She wasn’t spared taking the bus until she got her own car last year.
“You’re driving her home?” he asked again, needing that clarification.
Emmaline looked at him in exasperation. “Yes.”
“Sure your brother is okay with that?”
Okay with that? He meant okay with her being with Emmaline.
The moment he said the words, he looked nervous. Clearly he knew he’d overstepped.
Emmaline pushed to her feet, her hands balled up into tiny fists at her sides. “Nolan is not my keeper. He’s not my father. My father is buried in a cemetery across town.”
Hayden whistled between her teeth and shook her head. “Nice, Sanders.”
Still glaring at him, Emmaline addressed Hayden. “You want to skip the rest of seventh period, Hayden? I need to get out of here.”
“Skip class?” Beau looked incredulous, like she’d just suggested they go kick a bunch of puppies or make out with a bunch of bikers. “Whoa. Hold on. Wait a second.” He held up a hand as though the gesture might get her to stay.
Emmaline shook her head, her lips pressed into a mutinous line. “No, you hold on,” she snapped. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Beau Sanders.”
Hayden pushed to her feet, dusting off the back of her jeans. “Let’s go then.” Before things got ugly and Emmaline really went after Beau.
Emmaline cast him one last fulminating glare and fell in beside Hayden. “Can you believe that guy?” she asked as they marched away. “Acting like he’s my brother.”
Hayden shrugged, keeping an eye out for teachers. She’d avoided detention earlier today by the skin of her teeth. She didn’t want to get in trouble now. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have a brother.”
“Well, I have one in my life already and I don’t need another one. Especially not Beau. The nerve of that guy, judging what I do! Do you know his reputation? He’s far from a saint.”
“No, he’s definitely not a saint.” His exploits were more infamous than Hayden’s. Except no one called him names for anything he did. Such was the sorry dichotomy of life. Girls were sluts and guys were merely players. “So, Emmaline. Are you ever going to tell me what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Uh, yeah. Let’s get out of here first.” She cast another glance behind her, as though she feared Beau was following them.
Even though she really didn’t have time for this—she needed to be at work soon—her interest was piqued. Emmaline Martin not only got her out of class, but she wouldn’t dare say what she wanted in front of someone else.
As though the reason was too scandalous. Or criminal. Or embarrassing.
Hayden was dying to find out.
Lesson #8
There’s nothing wrong with avoiding conflict. It’s called survival.
x Nolan x
Nolan was walking out to the parking lot with Priscilla, keeping one eye out for his sister, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to see that it was a text from Emmaline.
“What’s wrong?” Priscilla asked.
He didn’t even notice he was frowning until she repeated the question.
“Nol? What’s wrong?”
He shook his head and started typing back, staring down at the screen as he answered, “Emmaline already left. She got a ride home.”
“But the bell just rang.” Priscilla peered out at the parking lot. “She already left then? Did she skip out early?”
“That’s what I’m finding out.”
He and Priscilla had seventh period in the east wing, right beside the parking lot they stood in now. His sister was an office aide last period and had to hike it all the way from the west side of campus to reach the parking lot. They usually had to wait a good fifteen minutes in the car before she made it out to them. If his sister had already left with someone, that meant she took off well before the bell.
It meant she skipped.
“What did she say?” Priscilla asked, clearly anxious to find out the story.
Impatient for Emmaline’s less-than-speedy reply, he went ahead and dialed her number. After a few rings it went to her voicemail. “She’s not picking up.”
Priscilla looked annoyed, which actually annoyed him.
Emmaline was his sister. His responsibility. Why was Priscilla so annoyed? He kept those feelings to himself though. He didn’t want to pick a fight with her. Especially not right now. They didn’t fight often, but when they did it was exhausting. She talked in circles and went over every little thing he said . . . every little thing he didn’t say. It was better just to avoid a fight altogether. Yes, in the back of his mind he wondered if that avoidance was healthy.
He glanced back down at his phone as though it would give him the answers he sought.
His sister was usually quick to respond. This wasn’t like her at all. At least, it wasn’t like how she used to be. It was just more of this new Emmaline with her scowls.