Dad doesn't stay for dinner.

Neither of us expected him to. He said what he came to say and then he left, the way he always does.

Cassie won't talk about it either. She wolfs down the fried rice I made and heads out, saying she has to meet her study group. The fact she yells for me to lock the door behind her is more than enough to show me that something happened to her on that street. Something she doesn't want to share, and I'm convinced it has to do with the unknown man who's been watching us.

It's stupid considering everything else I have to worry about, but in class on Thursday as Ms. Perkins talks about Shakespeare's England, all I can think about is that Christine's desk is empty behind me.

Christine made it crystal clear she's not interested in my friendship. But she said I could join her and Will at lunch and I want to, even if she's only doing it to get Will to sit with her instead of at his usual place with Nick and his friends.

I love being alone and hate how at school that same state leaves me vulnerable each day to being scrutinized and deemed lesser just because I'm socially challenged.

But I can't go home for lunch, not after what Dad said. He made it clear he's serious about sending me to Toronto if I mess this up again and I don't trust myself to return to school once I'm safe in my room.

Christine's empty chair means today will be the day I end up in the cafeteria alone because, since all the weird stuff started happening, I don't feel safe out there behind the bleachers.

When I go to my locker at lunchtime, Will stands across the hall and speaks to a grade twelve girl from my chemistry class who sports a tattoo of a monarch butterfly in flight. When he notices, he ends his conversation and crosses over to me. I'm not sure what to make of this attention. It's something I shy away from, but he's so casual, so laid back, as if he has all day for me and even then, he's ready to step back at the first sign he's not welcome. Having him beside me lessens the dread in my gut I've carried all morning.

"How are the assignments going?" he asks, leaning against the locker beside mine. "Are you all caught up?"

I tug out my textbook from my bag. Even though we sit beside each other in math, we never get to talk with Mr. Wolburn prowling the class, and afterward, Nick, Barry, or someone from his group drawing him into a conversation.

"Everything except math and English."

He slides his bag off his shoulder and squats beside me as he digs through. "I suck at English, but I'm pretty good at math. Here." He hands me his notebook with three weeks of answers to Mr. Wolburn's equations.

I struggle for a moment between telling him I don't need his help and wondering if I do. After all, Mr. Wolburn said I failed. Is there any way it's true?

"Thanks," I say, slipping it in my knapsack. "I'll give it back to you tomorrow in time for class."

I expect him to leave now, but he waits. "How do you feel about having lunch with me?"

"Just you?" I ask. "Are you sure you want to be seen with me?"

He laughs, a small indentation appearing on his cheek. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"I'm not very popular with Nick's group." Despite Nick standing up for me on Monday, the rest of them are still icy whenever I come into view. I don't expect full-out friendship, but a 'hi', or even some neutral indifference, would work. "You might lose some points with them because of me."

He brushes a strand of hair away from his forehead. "That's true."

"Then why—"

He smiles, stopping my flow of words as I realize he's teasing me. "I hang out with lots of people and I don't care how they deal with this."

I weigh his answer against what I know of Nick. He doesn't seem the type who will accept any dissension in his group. "All right. If you're okay with it."

"Bring your jacket."

"To the cafeteria?"

"I thought maybe we could eat out today." He glances at me sideways. "Unless you don't want to?"

Anything is better than what waits in the lunchroom. I dig through my backpack for my wallet, looking for my emergency twenty-dollar bill, and slip it into my back pocket. "Where are we going?"

"Leave it to me."

He guides me to his blue SUV and unlocks the doors, climbing in. A moment later, he lowers the passenger window. "You coming?"

I bite my lip, glancing over at my Ford parked nearby. But even I can tell how strange it will seem if I insist on each of us driving ourselves.

I slide in beside him. It's the second time I've been in his SUV and the third time in as many days as we've ridden together. It should be easy now, but when his hand moves to rest on the gearshift and accidentally brushes against my leg, I stiffen and shift to the edge of the seat.

"Sorry," he says as he stares forward.

"Can you get us back before the next class starts?" If he can't, I need to get out now. How is Dad interpreting missing class? Does ten minutes count? I'm not taking any chances.

"We'll be fine," he says as he eases us out of the parking spot. 

[Author's Note:

Next installment on Monday. Will Leila be up to what Will proposes?

Copyright ©2024 by Danica P. Costa

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Currently available as a published work on Amazon.com]