L E M O N

[citrus limon] ➳ discretion.  

MY DOUBTS WASHED AWAY when I found Isaac by the lockers just before fourth period, hands tucked into his pockets and a devilish glint in his eye.

He led me into the classroom. All the while, I studied his backpack's outer pouches for traces of garden thievery, but it appeared he hadn't touched a flower all day.

Maybe that was why I felt his arm against mine when we padded through the door, our footsteps as light on the carpet as the feathery brush of his sleeve.

"What are you doing?" I whispered. He nudged me again and I nearly tripped on my feet. "Isaac."

"Sit with me," he said, crossing the room and tossing his belongings onto a desk in the back corner. He pulled out the empty chair. "It's an easy lesson today."

I narrowed my eyes, weaving through the desks to join him. "How do you know?"

"I pay attention, Ren."

"Knowing which classes you can slack off in doesn't qualify as paying attention."

After a moment of deliberation, I sank into the seat next to him, the skin on my neck exposed by my braid and prickling with anticipation. I knew what would happen now, and it involved twenty-something pairs of eyes in our direction. 

But Isaac's grin was triumphant — I felt its heat filter through the air. "You run your finger along the collar of your shirt when you're stressed. Like, during tests," he said. "How's that?"

It took me a second to understand; I was too busy watching our classmates file into the room. They threw glances our way, amplifying the wave of paranoia in my chest.

"What?" I blurted out. Then realization slammed into me, and I felt the urge to fiddle with my shirt exactly as he'd described. "Wow. Um, that's just creepy."

He shrugged. "I've heard worse."

I was sure that he had. Creepy barely skimmed the surface of the rumours. Jackie's words from earlier in the day echoed in my head: people are kinda talking about it. I'd yet to hear my name pass anybody's lips, but I didn't doubt that it was true. 

I just couldn't believe Jackie — studious, stumble-over-her-words Jackie Merritt — had the guts to bring it up with me.

"On that note," I said slowly, facing Isaac as chatter filled the classroom, "how well do you know Jackie Merritt?"

The way his jaw clenched should've been answer enough. But I lifted my eyebrows, prompting him to release a low groan. He deflated completely, eyes sliding shut with frustration and his posture crumbling as quickly as my resolve.

Part of me wanted to laugh, but I bit my tongue. "Never mind."

"God. Please tell me you're not friends with her," Isaac said, pinching the knot between his brows.

I didn't know what to say. "Her dad is friends with my dad," I told him eventually.

"Not surprised." He sighed. "Do you like them?"

"Not really."

"They're nosey as shit."

I cracked a smile. "Pretty much."

"Why'd you bring it up?"

Spotting Mr. Davis at the front of the room, ready to begin his lecture, I unlocked my phone onto my desk. I pushed it towards Isaac and allowed him to read the message on the screen.

Hi Ren! Here's the schedule for the greenhouse program I told you about this morning :)

Earlier, Jackie's text — and the corresponding attachment — had reduced me to an anxious mess. I had fended her off with a vague response, but I knew I needed a better excuse than I might be busy those days, and I needed it fast.

I shouldn't have trusted Isaac, but the uneasy buzzing in my head settled as I watched him skim the text bubble. By the time he nudged the phone back to me, I was somehow calmer than I had been all afternoon.

Shit, he mouthed, causing an unwilling smirk to erupt on my lips. Embarrassed, I returned my gaze to the front of room.

But within minutes I was tired of whatever Mr. Davis was explaining on the whiteboard. My eyes wandered again, this time to the empty seat next to Leo in the first row. I hadn't even noticed him enter the classroom, but for some reason, I was sure that he'd noticed me.

I never sat with anyone else in this class, after all. My stomach churned guiltily.

At the end of class, I sat waiting for Leo to approach me, but he left without a word. He'd been wearing a school-branded t-shirt and sweatpants — maybe he was off to some kind of sports practice.

Or maybe he just didn't care.

Along the same lines, Isaac didn't seem to care at all about class. His paper held doodles between his chicken-scratch handwriting. He stood up when the bell went off, and begun packing his notes away.

"What was with that text?" he asked me.

"Nothing." Mirroring him, I decided to tuck my belongings into my bag. "She asked me to do that program with her this morning and I want to say no but I... can't."

"So you want me," he said, his face lighting up, "to help you reject Jackie Merritt?"

"I guess so." I tried to look confident — not like my guilt over not sitting with Leo had replaced itself with something just as ugly. Because surely this didn't matter enough to me for jealousy to take the reins. "Have you done it before?"

"Nope," Isaac said breezily, too amused to notice my shoulders sag with relief. "But I'd be happy to help."

"Great. I figured you would be good at coming up with excuses."

He paused, watching me sling my backpack over my shoulder. "What gave you that idea?"

"I don't know." I looked around, realizing we were the only people left in the room. "Just the fact that you seem to get in trouble a lot. I'm guessing you can do better than 'my dog ate my homework'?"

Isaac looked surprised. Then his expression relaxed, and we left the room together. "You know, I'm one of the few people in this world who has actually had their dog eat their homework."

"Of course," I said dryly.

We walked through the hall  to the back door of the school — the same one I had followed him through just days ago. I remembered spotting a stray flower petal just before the threshold that day, and the memory spurred me into asking, "Where were you this morning, anyway?"

His absence from my garden at seven a.m. still bothered me more than I could comprehend.

"Hm?" He faced me, his lashes lowered as we walked side-by-side, cool air whistling between us. "Oh. I didn't know if I was welcome anymore."

I felt raindrops patter lightly on the top of my head, but thankfully, Jackie's dad hadn't offered to pick us up after school. I frowned. "Okay, well... you were never really welcome in the first place, but what makes you think you're less welcome now than you were before?"

"Nothing. But it feels weird," he said, chuckling, "to steal from people I know. It was easier for me to pick your flowers when I didn't know what you were like."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he echoed, and when I eyed him suspiciously he threw his hands into the air. "Do you want me to rob you?"

"No, but what about the grave?" I knew I was embarrassing myself, so I flattened my hair with my hand, feigning like I was bothered by the drizzle. "I thought you visited every other day."

"Uh-huh. I'll figure something out."

I bit my lip. "Now I feel bad."

Isaac laughed again. "You don't have to feel bad for stopping me from stealing your shit."

"Don't call my flowers shit."

We had stopped next to a towering tree by the school's back stairs. Its damp leaves fluttered as I shuffled away from its lowest branch. Isaac didn't waver, though.

"Fine." He hummed. "Then you can't say anything about the place I'm about to take you."

"That was my next question," I said. "Weren't you going to help me come up with an excuse?"

"Yeah." Isaac's mouth hitched. "I saw the schedule. Monday and Wednesday mornings, right? I'll keep you busy."

"Wait," I protested, my heartbeat ripping through my chest. "You're really taking me somewhere for this? The last time I followed you around after school, we ended up at a graveyard."

But I left out the most important part: that on the way home from the graveyard that day, I had found myself trusting Isaac for the first time.

"Come on, Ren," he said. "Did you think we were going to brainstorm for ideas?"

"Yeah," I admitted impishly.

"You know school's not my strong suit."

I studied the stubborn tilt of his mouth. It was set, less like a child having a temper tantrum and more like a still-life painting against the brick exterior wall of the school.

"School and brainstorming are not exclusive to each other," I pointed out, practically hissing to avoid being heard by the students passing behind us. "And dead things aren't exactly my strong suit either."

"That's okay," Isaac said, and I swore my heart tumbled to my knees when he broke into a smile, immediately quelling any doubts I had about his plans. "The dogs are actually alive where I'm taking you today."