He kept asking when he could see me again, and I kept deflecting with coyness and jokes about keeping the mystery alive, but I knew this would have to come to a head eventually. He’d probably lose interest before I got up the courage to show him who I really was.
I sighed and drew my knees up, leaning my head on the row of encyclopedias as I opened Instagram to distract myself. I was studying a makeup look with a watercolor effect on the eyes, wondering which products the artist had used, when I heard my name.
“Mena, Mena, Mena.” It was barely a whisper, but it was definitely Turner’s voice. How the fuck had he figured out who I was?
Eyes wide, I looked around, but all I could see were the rows of books on the shelves to either side of me and a cart at the end of the row I was hiding out in.
Fuck, was I starting to hallucinate?
“Middle name?” he mumbled, sounding more confused. His voice was coming from my right.
Slowly, as soundlessly as possible, I lifted onto my knees and peered through the narrow, uneven gap in the books.
He was standing on the other side; my eyes were about level with the top button of his jeans. Twisting my head, I could just see the bottom of last year’s yearbook as he slowly turned the pages and cursed under his breath.
I covered my mouth to hold back my laughter. He was trying to figure out who I was, sweet, infuriating boy.
Balancing the yearbook on one hand, he reached the other above his head and leaned on the bookshelf. His T-shirt rode up, revealing his hips, the toned muscles in his lower abdomen, the trail of light hair disappearing into the top of his jeans. I had an urge to shove all the books out of the way so I could run my hands through that hair, maybe lick one of the hipbones peeking out next to it.
“Hey, bro!” Jayden’s voice was like a bucket of icy water poured over my head. I recoiled and barely caught myself before I smacked into the opposite bookshelf.
“Hey, Jayden.” Turner sounded friendly, but I knew his voice—there was a hint of annoyance there too.
“What the fuck are you doing in the library?” Jayden laughed, as though the very existence of libraries was preposterous. I allowed myself an eye roll.
“Some of us know how to read.” Turner’s voice was light, as if he was laughing with Jayden and not at him. I still wanted to kiss him for the dig at that asshole’s intelligence.
“Fuck you, asshole.” Jayden laughed, not sounding the least bit offended. “Come on, I’ve been looking for you. Coach wants to talk to you.”
I heard the yearbook getting shoved back into place, and then they started to walk away. I frowned. Turner hadn’t mentioned anything to me about who he was making friends with at school, but if he started hanging out with them, that would really fucking suck. Couldn’t he see how fake and mean they were? I wasn’t the only student at DNHS whose life was made miserable because of those dicks.
I was just the only one who wasn’t allowed to make friends with other misfits—because I didn’t exist or matter, as they liked to remind everyone.
I sat back on my heels and tried to quell the panic. Maybe if I came clean now, told him who I was and how they treated me . . . but what if he thought I was pathetic and stopped talking to me? What if he already knew and was just in on some elaborate prank?
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to push that last thought out of my mind—it was too painful.
“Hey, pipsqueak.” Jayden’s voice sounded farther away, but it still made me open my eyes, my body primed to go on the alert at any sign of him. “Dad’s picking you up after school, so don’t waste time after the last bell, all right?”
A small voice murmured in response, and then the sound of the library doors opening and closing announced that they’d left.
A moment later, a skinny girl rounded the corner. She saw me sitting on the ground and froze, clutching her open bag to her chest. She was clearly a freshman. She had that deer-in-the-headlights look that starting high school put in everyone’s eyes. Her dark blonde hair was cut short, and she had knobby knees under her cute blue shorts. When she grew out of this awkward stage, she’d be gorgeous. And since she was Jayden’s sister, she’d probably be a total bitch too.
Jayden had never mentioned having a sister, but we were friends for only a grand total of three days, and I’d been avoiding him like the plague ever since.
“Did you drop something?” her soft voice asked, even as she averted her gaze.
“Huh?” I frowned, then remembered I was sitting on the ground. “Oh, yeah, kind of.” My dignity. My sanity. My sense of self-preservation.
I shoved my phone and the remnants of my lunch into my bag, rose up onto my knees, but paused before I fully got to my feet.
The girl had buried her chin in her chest, and her eyes were watering, seconds away from spilling fat tears down her innocent cheeks.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I shuffled forward, the worn carpet scratchy against my bare knees.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
I took a chance and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly at the contact but didn’t shrug me off. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”
She took a lightning-quick glance at me. Whatever she saw must’ve been enough to crack her defenses just a little more.
“It’s just . . .” She breathed hard, and the tears spilled over. “It’s just overwhelming. I feel like I’m drowning, and I don’t know what to do.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to feel anything for anyone even remotely related to Jayden, but she was so vulnerable, so broken. “I get it. Starting high school can be hella scary. Everyone feels like this from time to time, OK? Even if they don’t show it. It does get better.”
It hadn’t gotten better for me. It got worse. But she didn’t need to hear that. She just needed someone to tell her it would be OK.
She bit her lip. If anything, she looked sadder, but her tears were drying up.
“What’s your name?” I asked, rubbing her shoulder lightly.
“Jenny,” she mumbled, her voice a little steadier.
“Hang in there, Jenny.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “You can do this.”
She met my eyes. She didn’t smile back, but she did give a little nod.
The bell rang, and her eyes widened. “I can’t be late.”
She zipped up her bag, swung it onto her back, and turned to rush away.
I grabbed my own bag and got to my feet just in time for her to turn back and wrap her gangly arms around my waist.
“Thank you,” she mumbled into my T-shirt, then ran off before I even had a chance to hug her back.
I saw her again at the end of the day, along with another, unfortunately familiar, face. I didn’t know what it was about Jayden’s dad—I hadn’t even met him—but I’d taken an immediate dislike to him, probably because he was related to Jayden. Or maybe I was just jealous that he could stand in front of the school and shake hands with Turner in front of everyone, while I had to keep my very identity secret from the boy I liked.
As I made my way through the parking lot, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was leaning against his car and reading something on his phone when Jenny walked up. She reached for the car door, but he stopped her so he could grab something off the front seat. Bending at the waist until they were at eye level, he pulled a cupcake out of a paper bag and held it out with a big smile.