And deep down, maybe he does care what everyone thinks. Maybe just a little.

But obviously not enough to stop him from chasing after her. He snatches the backpack from her shoulders, which halts her in her tracks. She turns around, fuming. “Are you serious?”

“I figured out why people are staring at us,” he says quickly. “It’s because I’ve never been rejected like this before.” This he keeps to a whisper. He hates himself for it too. That something like that would matter to him. I guess I haven’t completely freed myself from the expectation of others.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re really that full of yourself?”

“Look, I don’t know how to talk to you, okay? I’ll just be direct. I want to give you a ride home today.”

“No.”

“Yes, dammit! All I’m asking is to give you a ride home.”

“I have a bike.”

“Which we both know fits in the back of my truck.” She crosses her arms, the makings of yet another rejection forming on her lips. He wipes a hand down his face, hoping to erase any frustration that might be showing there. “Look, if you agree to it, I swear I won’t talk to you for the rest of the day.”

It irritates Arden that this seems to appeal to her. “You promise?”

Oh my God, who is this girl? “I promise, or pinky swear, or whatever it is you chicks do.”

“How can people actually think you’re funny?”

“What’d I do now?”

“Where is your truck parked?”

“In the front lot.”

“My bike is in front too. I’ll see you at last bell.” Then she walks away. No good-bye. No thanks. To Arden, it’s hard to view this as a victory.

Hopefully this will all be worth the headache.

As he turns to go to his next class, he catches Carly out of the corner of his eye being rammed into a locker. The force is so hard she loses her grip on her backpack and it drops to the floor. The guy who ran into her—Ashton is his name, he thinks, because he tried out for the football team freshman year—simply keeps walking as if he didn’t nearly just dislocate her shoulder. He’s a big guy, bigger than Arden, and seems oblivious to what he’s just done. Carly recovers quickly, throwing her backpack over her shoulder again and moving on.

Arden scowls. Has he ever done that to her? He wouldn’t know. Up until just days ago, when he started planning his attack on Cletus, he hadn’t been aware of her existence. It could very well have been me who ran into her, and just kept walking. She definitely acts like she’s used to this sort of thing—she doesn’t even bother to unleash her crabbiness on her assailant.

Why does it bother me that neither party seems affected by what just happened? And why am I walking toward Ashton like I’m about to do something? “Hey, Ashton,” Arden calls out, passing Carly in his wake.

Ashton stops and waits for Arden to reach him. “What’s up, man?”

Carly tries to walk by them, but Arden grabs her wrist before she can. He pulls her in beside him. “Did you know you just ran into Carly?”

Ashton has a solid eighteen inches on Carly. He glances down at her. “Carly?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Carly says quickly. “I was in the way.”

Arden shakes his head. “No, you weren’t.” He turns his attention back to Ashton. “You ran right into her, man. She hit the lockers pretty hard. I think you should apologize.”

Ashton shifts his books between his hands. Arden can tell he doesn’t want to apologize. He probably doesn’t even believe he ran into her—a rhino wouldn’t notice running into a mouse either. But Ashton knows Arden outranks him in every kind of social status there is. And he’s probably aware that Arden doesn’t back down from a fight. Ever. After all, it’s the best way to get suspended—and piss off his father.

Ashton looks at the small crowd gathering around them, then back at Carly. “If I ran into you I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine,” Carly chokes out. “Really.”

Arden nods to Ashton, an unspoken signal that all is well again. Having been dismissed, Ashton turns and walks away. And Carly melts wordlessly into the crowd.

Eleven

Something like wasps flutter in my stomach when I see that Arden is holding me to my word. He pulls around to the car pickup lane and hops out, already reaching for my bike. “You’re sure?” I ask.

Because the truth is, I don’t know why he’s doing this. Why he’s harassing me into friendship. I’m thinking he’s feeling guilty for what he did at the Breeze Mart, and if that’s the case, then I’m going to clear the air for good on the way home. I don’t need Arden Moss’s pity friendship.

Still, I feel that I should show a little pity for him, because of what he did for me in the hall today. I know he sees it as coming to my rescue instead of bringing more attention to me. And … it was nice to get an apology from Ashton. That’s not the first time he’s slammed me into the locker. The last time he did it, I had a nasty bruise on my arm that took weeks to yellow and disappear. I get that he’s this big muscular beast and I’m small and slow. But maybe he’ll be on the lookout for me now that something was said to him.

Now that someone like Arden said something to him.

So I guess I have to allow Arden to give me a ride home, as backward as that sounds. Still, my eye nearly twitches out of control when he opens the door for me. Because of what this looks like. Like he’s wooing me. The last thing he wants is for people to think I’m rejecting him. The last thing I want people to think is that I’m one of Arden’s conquests. One of his many, many, many conquests. Actually, the last thing I want people to think is that I exist at all. I’m supposed to be staying under the radar—trying to smuggle your parents back over the border isn’t exactly considered a constructive pastime here in the States. The fewer people I know, the fewer I’m close to, the better. Because what will they say when my parents suddenly show up and we’re one big happy family again? What questions will they ask? What answers will I give?