do a much better job at this than I would.”
But Lo doesn’t answer, just continues to wear the same amused smile as if it’s his customary expression—or maybe it’s his expression around me. I must be so amusing to him. My leg-breaking thoughts return in full force.
“Lockers,” I snarl, throwing my hand to the side and gesturing needlessly to the metal-lined hallways. “Gym’s down that way, also pool, tennis courts and sports fields.”
“Where you play field hockey?”
“What?”
A smile. “I heard you were cocaptain. Plus, everyone’s talking about that game you guys won last week. Kind of hard to ignore.” Lo pauses to look at me, tilting his head and chewing on the corner of his lower lip as we’re walking. I look away quickly, enflamed again. “So, field hockey, huh? I just don’t see it.”
“See what?” I snap back, irritated for feeling so flustered around a stupid boy. I quicken my step, wanting to get this tour over with so I can get as far away from him as possible. “Down there’s the music hall and the auditorium.”
“You look more like a swimmer to me.”
“I hate the water,” I say without thinking. “Student center is down there.”
Lo’s chuckle is long and deep. I sprint up the stairs at the end of the hallway. “Didn’t look like you hated the water the other day.”
Crap, crap, double crap. “I meant I’m allergic to chlorine so I hate pool water.”
It’s not that I’m entirely allergic. Chlorine in intense concentrations can be irritating to our internal tissue, but it isn’t toxic or anything. I can swim in a pool fine, but the chlorine excuse works well as a response to anyone suggesting that I try out for the swim team, which Speio would likely have an aneurysm over.
“Interesting.”
“What’s interesting about that?” I can’t help myself but Lo’s quiet response bugs me.
“It’s too bad. You’re a strong swimmer.”
Confused by what sounds like a sincere compliment, I duck my head and then smile. “Hmm, thought that was you watching me before, like a—what were your words again?—oh, yes, a cherry smoothie,” I jibe, mimicking his words from that morning.
Lo winks. “Strawberry’s my favorite, but who’s checking?”
My breath hitches in my throat at his obvious admission, my words tumbling out past it. “Principal Cano’s office is down that hall, as you know. Plus, all the other admin offices and the faculty lounge. Media room over there down the same hallway. Art studio’s on that side. Classrooms. They’re pretty much the same, you know, the usual.” I turn toward him, still flushed at his casual admission of staring at me on the beach. “Look, this is pretty much it. Like every other high school.”
“I wouldn’t know. My last high school was twelve rooms.”
“In Hawaii?” I blurt out, and then kick myself. “I mean, Mrs. Leland mentioned that you were a transfer. From there.”
Lo throws me a long measured look. “She did?” I nod. “What else did Mrs. Leland say about me?”
“Not much, just that you had transferred because...” I trail off, unable to finish the sentence or find a quick enough substitute for because your family burned in a horrific accident. My immediate rush of pity is no surprise, nor is the sudden reaction to it on Lo’s face. His hard expression hits me like a bucket of ice water. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” Every muscle in that angular face snaps to attention, his eyes becoming cold and unreadable.
“Thanks for showing me around.” Without another word, Lo stalks off in the opposite direction just as the bell rings. Flustered by his sudden departure, I retrace my steps to my locker to get my history books.
In class, I find myself unable to concentrate. Caught in the crossfire of Speio’s pointed looks, Jenna’s raised eyebrows, Cara’s demon scowls and the fascinating topic of the Bill of Rights, all I can think about is Lo and my hideous faux pas of alluding to his private secrets. From the look on my face, he’d guessed that I’d somehow found out about his family, and now I feel terrible for spying in Principal Cano’s office. I kick myself mentally for the nineteenth time.
“Class, please open your textbooks to page one hundred and eleven, and read the rest of the chapter,” Mr. Moss says. “Then pair up and work on the quiz questions at the end. There will be a real quiz next class.”
Amid the groans in the classroom, mechanically I do as requested, but I can’t even focus to get the right answers. Jenna glowers at me.
“What’s with you?” she whispers.
“Nothing. Just not feeling that great.”
A wicked grin. “Anything to do with loverboy? Did you make out on your tour?”
“Gross. I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’m not into him, so forget whatever it is you’re plotting about in your head, okay?” I say. “I don’t want to talk about Lo.”
We both jump at Mr. Moss’s voice. “Ms. Marin and Ms. Pearce, I expect that you two are discussing the quiz and not something unrelated to history.”
“Um, yes, sir,” we both say. Jenna leans in again once Mr. Moss’s piercing stare has moved elsewhere. “So is he single?”
“For the love of...” I grumble, irritated. “I don’t know, Jenna.”
“I wonder where he is,” she stage-whispers. “Bet he’s with Cano for new-kid stuff. Look, if this guy’s our year he has to be in Bio next period. You can make your next move then!”
“Will you stop with the plotting?” I stare at the practice quiz, ignoring her attempts to get my attention and silently hoping that she’s right—that he’ll be in class next period.
But Jenna is wrong. Lo isn’t in Bio. I know I shouldn’t care but I feel responsible, as if I’m the cause of him not being there. It seems as if I have an unerring, magic ability to ruin the lives of everyone around me. Even people I don’t know.
Some queen I’d be.
Beating myself up for the rest of the day and feeling more and more guilty with each passing second, I’m literally out the door before the last bell has stopped ringing. Ignoring Jenna’s reminder that we have hockey practice, I mumble something about having an appointment and race to the south parking lot.
There’s someone leaning against my Jeep. My stomach sours.
“What do you want, Speio?”
“So who was that guy you were talking to at lunch?”
I stare at him. “A new kid. A transfer.”
“From where?”
Speio’s twenty questions undermine my rapidly failing composure. “What, are you my keeper now?” I snap, moving to unlock my door. Speio blocks my
