Chapter 6

Seth had been pretty silent in homeroom Monday morning.

At first I thought he was simply acting weird, but then I recalled the deal we made about him not bothering me again if I went to the party last Friday.

I spent my weekend working on an essay I had to do for Lit. I'd gone to the library on Saturday and spent the whole day poring over books regarding the topic, as well as a few others I could read for leisure.

By Sunday morning, I already finished writing it, so I just read the other books instead.

The essay wasn't due until Friday next week, but it wasn't like I had anything better to do anyway. Besides, I needed the distraction. I had to get my mind off the party, Cedric and Seth's ridiculous offer.

If his silence had anything to do with my rejection, I didn't know. Not that I would have had a way of knowing either since striking up a conversation with him was the last thing on my mind.

I mostly shifted in and out of focus for the rest of the class period. At one point during the discussion, I accidentally swept my pen off my desk, which chose to land just out of arm's reach under Seth's desk. At first, I wasn't sure whether I should just get off my chair to reach for it or ask Seth if he could pick it up, so I just paused, wondering what I should do.

Seth reached for it before I could figure the answer out. He handed it to me and for the first time that morning, his eyes met mine. "One pen is enough, Evans." With his right hand, he lifted the pen I gave him last week, smiling just the slightest bit.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned back to Mr. Lowenstein.

The thank you I meant to say was drowned out by my hesitation, as well as his complete indifference to the whole matter, so I decided to just keep my mouth shut.

I found my thoughts slipping back to his ridiculous offer to help me. It was stupid, I knew that, but he was right about Cedric's reaction when he saw the two of us.

I knew, at the back of my mind, that even though he dumped me, he still cared about me in some way, and seeing me with Seth, someone he hated, really might just drive him crazy. I pushed the thought away, cursing Seth for ever planting it in my mind in the first place, and decided to pay attention instead.

 ---

I was washing my hands in the girl's bathroom when one of the cubicle doors opened.

 There was a moment of silence in which my eyes shifted from my reflection to Hail's light brown eyes in the mirror.

The two of us just stood there, wordlessly looking at each other in the mirror. The silence seemed uncertain, like we were simply waiting for the other to make the next move, and before I could react, she looked away and headed to the sink farthest from me.

I dropped my stare, thinking back to the times when we almost always went to the comfort room together for no particular reason, talking about Mrs. Young's latest bizarre wig or the History paper we needed to work on.

That was the thing with me and Hail: We could talk about practically everything, even the things that didn't really matter. Cedric and I might be close, but there was something different about the way Hail and I could discuss anything under the sun.

Now, the silence between us was unbearable, reminding me of just how much things had changed over the course of a few weeks.

The faucet gave a slight squeak when I turned it off. Without so much as another glance at her, I left the bathroom, letting the door carelessly swing shut behind us, and hurried to my class. The sad part, however, was that even though I could run away from Hail, there was nothing I could do to escape Cedric.

 Last Friday's events still kept plaguing my thoughts.

I knew it shouldn't really be a big deal, but I couldn't help but feel as though it was; like all this time, the Cedric I knew wasn't really someone I knew at all.

I felt like he had taken away the memories I had of him, painting them in a new light so I can question just how real "we" ever was, and I found myself hating him more for it.

He was already seated when I stepped inside the classroom, head resting on his arms, which were folded atop his table.

I forced myself to move until I reached my seat. From my peripheral vision, I could see that his eyes were closed, earphones plugged in.

I didn't really make a lot of noise when I sat down, but he must have felt my presence because his eyes began to flutter open. They were clear and sharp, not at all the groggy look I had been expecting to see. I did my best not to look at him, but without warning, he straightened, eyes entirely focused on me.

I heard him call my name, making me pause halfway from grabbing my binder out of my bag, but I didn't turn to him.

"Kyla," he said again, leaning slightly closer to me. I could hear the urgency in his voice and it was this that finally made me turn to look at him.

"What?"

"About last Friday," he began.

 I couldn't tell where he was going with this, but whatever it was that he wanted to say, I didn't want to hear it. I let out an audible sigh, shook my head and turned away.

My disinterest, however, didn't faze him at all.

"Why were you with Seth Everett?" he said just as Mr. Callahan entered the classroom, effectively silencing the usual chatter among the students.

Cedric didn't look away immediately, and when he did, it was only for a moment.

More quietly, he said, "You know what kind of guy he is."

I opened my binder, as well as my textbook, doing my best not to acknowledge Cedric at all. I could hear his resentment, as well as his bewilderment, and I knew he was dying to figure out why I was with Seth that night.

"He's just playing with you," Cedric continued, not letting my silence deter him. "Stay away from him."

At this, I couldn't help but turn to him, feeling the anger resurfacing all over again. "Who I hang out with is none of your fucking business, Cedric."

"He'll only break your heart." His voice rose a little, as though saying it louder was going to help him make his point.

"Oh, don't worry," I spat, "You already did that for him."

He flinched.

Whether it was from the coldness of my voice or the words themselves, I wasn't sure. He stared at me for a few speechless seconds. It was as though he was trying to come up with an answer to that, and just when I thought he wasn't going to say anything at all, he did.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. He sounded so sincere I could almost feel something tug at my heart. "But please. Stay away from—"

"Walter, Evans!"

I jumped a little in my seat.

From the podium, Mr. Callahan was glaring at us, both hands placed on his hips in a manner that almost made him look threatening.

"Detention," he barked at us. "Both of you."

"What? No, I wasn't—" I began to say but was cut off by the older man clearing his throat loudly and telling the class to get a piece of paper out, muttering something about students not paying attention to class.

I turned to glare at Cedric, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, the way he always did when he was frustrated with something.

"Shit," I heard him mutter, giving me a sideways glance. I could tell he wanted to apologize, but before he could speak again, I looked away.

I couldn't risk listening to another apology of his.

---

I'd only ever gotten detention once. I overslept and was late to class. The teacher, Aoyagi-sensei (she told us to call her that way), was incredibly old-fashioned and strict, so even though I was merely five minutes late, she still got mad, telling me I had to "reflect on my irresponsibility."

I hadn't minded, really, since I was tasked to rearrange and organize some of the loose files in the library. For someone who found refuge in words and books, it didn't feel like a punishment at all.

Today, however, I was dreading the thought of heading to detention. I was only given time to deposit my things in my locker, and while I thought of ditching, I had a feeling it wouldn't end well with Mr. Callahan if he found out.

I let out a sigh before closing my locker, leaving to go to detention.

The room was empty when I got there, save for Cedric leaning sideways against one of the windows, one hand in his pocket and his eyes trained on the view outside. It took a while for him to notice me, but when he did, he pushed himself off the window.

I half-expected him to say something, but we stood there in silence until Mrs. Ramirez came. She was the school librarian and she also happened to be in charge of detention. She had that stern quality about her, something stiff and somewhat unsentimental, and she spoke with a heavy European accent, though I couldn't tell what it was, and I've long given up on trying to figure out whether it was a French or simply something similar.

"The both of you," she said, "follow me."

. I followed suit as she got out of the classroom, her heels click-clocking loudly in the empty corridor.

Mrs. Ramirez led us to the library. We continued to follow her until we reached one of the locked doors just beside the counter.

Cedric and I both followed her in.

The room smelled slightly of mildew and old paper. She turned a light on, but it was still relatively dimly lit compared to the rest of the library. I looked around, surveying the shelves that covered all its walls as well as the long table in the middle, where several books and folders were stacked haphazardly on top.

"I need you both to arrange these"—she gestured at the table—"according to file type and the date they were published. Put the folders in the drawer over there and leave the books on top of the table." She turned to look us in the eye. "Understood?"

I nodded.

"Very well," she said and stalked out of the room. She closed the door behind her—something I wished she hadn't done—and the room was plunged in an awkward silence.

The room wasn't that big, but I didn't think it was too small until I realized Cedric and I will have to work alone together.

He shifted, turning to look at me. "Where should we start?"

I didn't want to work with him, so I walked over to the other end of the table. "I'll work on the folders. You go with the books."

The minutes ticked by without either of us saying a word. I busied myself with the folders, handling them as carefully as I could. Rearranging them was slightly difficult as some of the titles and labels were beginning to fade. The dim light didn't help either, but I managed.

Every now and then, I'd see something interesting and skim through the whole thing, only to be reminded that the sooner we finish, the sooner we can leave, and I didn't want to be here with Cedric any longer than necessary.

Fortunately, having something to do really helped me keep my mind off him. After successfully arranging at least a quarter of all the folders, I was beginning to forget he was even present in the first place.

Until, of course, he decided to speak.

"I meant it." He paused, a book in hand, and lifted his gaze to look me straight in the eye. "I don't know what's going on between the two of you, but Seth Everett's bad news."

"You keep forgetting." I shook my head, willing my voice to stay firm. I hoped he could hear my anger. I hoped he could hear me telling him to go away. "It's none of your business."

Something passed over his face, but before I could figure it out, he had already looked away. "Right."

It was there again, that feeling of wanting to cross the gap that kept us from being together, but I reminded myself that this was the guy who broke my heart without so much as a warning, so I looked away from the troubled expression on his face and forced myself to start working again.

He didn't say another word until we finished. I stacked the folders together to place them in the drawer. They were surprisingly heavy, so when Cedric wordlessly took half of them to help me, I didn't complain.

There were no windows in the archive room, so I was surprised when I realized that it had grown completely dark outside. Mrs. Ramirez was scribbling on something when we both got out of the room and she merely nodded at us as we left the library.

I didn't want to walk with Cedric to the parking lot, so I pretended I needed something from my locker and let him walk ahead.

When I was sure he was far enough, I walked out as well.

I almost reached the main doors when I heard a familiar voice call my name out. I turned around to see Seth Everett walking to my direction, backpack carelessly slung over one shoulder.

"Hey," he said when he was close enough. "Why are you still here?"

"I got detention," I replied.

"Ah," he said, an easy smile spreading on his face. "Was it Mrs. Ramirez?"

I raised an eyebrow at him before nodding. He spoke as though getting detention was nothing new to him—something I didn't quite doubt was true—and suddenly I recalled Cedric telling me to stay away from Seth. I thought back to the expression he had earlier—the one he made when I reminded him that he no longer had a say in what I wanted to do. Perhaps Seth was right about his offer.

So, as Seth and I stepped out of the building together, I surprised myself by saying, "Let's do it."

He turned to me, eyebrows creased and lips slightly turned down into a small frown. "What?"

"Go out," I replied without meeting his eyes. I swallowed, fighting the urge to take the words back. "Let's pretend we're going out."

He didn't say anything for a long while, and for a moment, I was afraid he had changed his mind, or that I only imagined him offering to help me in the first place, and I felt my cheeks warming up.

"You know what?" I said, walking faster so he wouldn't see the way my cheeks had warmed up. "Never mind."

I hadn't even taken two steps when he grabbed me by the arm, fingers warm and surprisingly gentle.

"Okay," he said, an unreadable expression on his face. "Okay. Let's do it."

---

I stared at the numbers on the screen, then at the name that accompanied them.

Seth.

Never in my life had I ever thought I would have Seth Everett's number. I fought back a groan and tossed the phone on the bed. I followed, falling face-first, and began to wonder whether or not I was going the right thing.

Had I been too rash? Was I being stupid?

I couldn't see how this whole plan was going to end well. I had half a mind to call Seth and tell him I was backing off, that I changed my mind and didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore, but for some reason, snapshots of Cedric telling me to stay away from Seth kept coming back to me.

Obviously, I hadn't thought this through, but I couldn't help it. Cedric kept acting like he needed to look out for me, and if even Seth could see that I wasn't over Cedric yet, then I was pretty sure everyone could either.

Even Cedric probably knew. In fact, it could even be the reason why he kept acting like I belonged to him when he had already thrown me away.

Agreeing to Seth's plan might not be the greatest idea, but it wouldn't hurt to show Cedric I was moving on with someone he obviously detested.

It was the least I could do to get back at him.

I was in the middle of writing an essay for my History class when my phone rang. It was eight minutes past eleven and at first, I wondered if it was a wrong number—I hadn't really gotten calls lately, much less at such a late hour—but when I checked the screen, I realized it was Seth.

For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to answer it, so I let it ring. It was like I was suddenly dreading the idea of having to talk to him, and after much thought, I finally forced myself to answer the call before I could change my mind.

"What do you want?" I said in lieu of a hello.

"Hello to you too," he replied. His voice sounded different on the phone. Somewhat deeper, the static making it sound slightly rough, yet I could still imagine him smiling over the line.

"What is it?"

"So I was thinking." There was some rustling, like he was moving, but he didn't pause. "Are you doing anything tomorrow night?"

I didn't want to readily admit that I basically had no social life whatsoever, so I replied with, "Why?"

"I was thinking we should hang out after school," he said. "Talk about the plan. Or whatever."

"What?"

"I don't know." I could imagine him shrugging as he said this and for a slight moment, I was irritated with myself. Why was I even so familiar with his common mannerisms? "Just sort things out. Establish some... rules."

"'Rules'?" I shook my head in genuine confusion before realizing he couldn't see me.

"Yes, Evans. Rules."

 I let out a breath, fighting the urge to argue because I knew without a doubt that he wouldn't readily let this go. "Fine," I said. "Whatever you say."

"Great," he replied. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Unfortunately."

I heard him laugh. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's excited."