voice rises as my heart pounds out each fuming syllable—“Did you know who I was? And your dad ? He put my mom in jail! Was it a bet? Your buddies put you up to that stunt at the mall? Jerk . I’ll bet you all had a royal laugh at my expense afterward.”
His jaw drops. He has the gall to shake his head, like he’s in some state of shock. He almost has me convinced, but it’s nothing more than a charade. Oh, he’s good. Preppy, beautiful boy woos me into thinking I’m something special. How typical. I should have seen this coming, should have known it was all a joke.
No more.
I cross my arms, the quiver of my chin settling as self-control wins over. “Well, you know what? The joke is over , Cody. Stay away from me.” I turn and start out the door, resisting the urge to flip him off.
I crush the lantana flowers under my foot on the way out and start down the hallway as the bell rings. People flood the halls. I push past them, my veins pulsing, my heart pounding. My mind reels. I try to grasp what just happened, what I did— what I said .
There’s a chance Cody didn’t know who I was that night at the mall weeks ago. But what are the chances of his walking into The Chocolate Shoppe, transferring to my school, and then requesting me as his tutor? No, he bought those chocolates for me. What kind of sick joke is this?
I think about Mama. I think about Dad and Vic, the endless laundry, the stench of vomit in the bathroom after one of Dad’s rough days, and my mom’s six o’clock dinner tradition I’m trying to keep up. I think about calculus and school and the pageant, all of the things I’m supposed to keep on track, hold together. And I accept the fact that perhaps I, like Cody, am putting on nothing more than a charade.
I can’t even hold myself together.
CHAPTER 8
Cody
I squeeze through the open doorway, crushing my knuckles between the wheelchair and the door frame on the way. Freaking wheelchair.
Shaking off the pain, I continue wheeling myself down the crowded hallway. Stuck .
“Excuse me,” I say, shifting to peer through the chaos of bodies and backpacks. So far, my first day at school has sucked even more than I thought possible.
That isn’t how I envisioned my conversation with Julianna going. At all. She knows about my dad. Obviously. I just need her to answer questions about this photo booth picture, about the night I can’t for the life of me remember.
I glimpse her through a narrow opening in the crowd and call out, “Julianna.”
She hears me; she has to.
“Julianna,” I call again.
She flinches, just a quick pause.
Some guy big enough to be a football lineman notices me. “Hey, watch out,” his voice booms, “wheelchair coming through.”
People see me now, slide out of the way. Two girls smile. Julianna’s about to pass my locker.
“Thanks, man,” I say and take off through the opening. “Julianna, wait.”
I’ve almost caught up to her now. I’m getting good at this wheelchair thing.
Her posture goes stiff and she dares a quick glance back. Forces her gaze forward again. Picks up her pace.
Oh, come on. She’s gotta have a heart in there somewhere.
I stop wheeling myself forward and rest my arms. “I’ll make it worth your time,” I say over the hallway commotion as she ignores me. “You name the price, babe, I’ll double it.”
She jerks to a stop, her spine zipping up with tension.
She whirls around, red with embarrassment. People stare. Some snicker. One guy woops out a supporting holler and whistles, offering some man-to-man props. A couple of girls give Julianna the once-over with a look of disgust and I almost feel guilty.
She slinks back to my wheelchair, the color draining from her face as she darts an anxious look around at our audience. Or maybe she’s searching for the nearest open locker to disappear into.
She stops in front of me, her full lips drawing into a tempting little furrow as she regards me through narrowed eyes. I see why I
His jaw drops. He has the gall to shake his head, like he’s in some state of shock. He almost has me convinced, but it’s nothing more than a charade. Oh, he’s good. Preppy, beautiful boy woos me into thinking I’m something special. How typical. I should have seen this coming, should have known it was all a joke.
No more.
I cross my arms, the quiver of my chin settling as self-control wins over. “Well, you know what? The joke is over , Cody. Stay away from me.” I turn and start out the door, resisting the urge to flip him off.
I crush the lantana flowers under my foot on the way out and start down the hallway as the bell rings. People flood the halls. I push past them, my veins pulsing, my heart pounding. My mind reels. I try to grasp what just happened, what I did— what I said .
There’s a chance Cody didn’t know who I was that night at the mall weeks ago. But what are the chances of his walking into The Chocolate Shoppe, transferring to my school, and then requesting me as his tutor? No, he bought those chocolates for me. What kind of sick joke is this?
I think about Mama. I think about Dad and Vic, the endless laundry, the stench of vomit in the bathroom after one of Dad’s rough days, and my mom’s six o’clock dinner tradition I’m trying to keep up. I think about calculus and school and the pageant, all of the things I’m supposed to keep on track, hold together. And I accept the fact that perhaps I, like Cody, am putting on nothing more than a charade.
I can’t even hold myself together.
CHAPTER 8
Cody
I squeeze through the open doorway, crushing my knuckles between the wheelchair and the door frame on the way. Freaking wheelchair.
Shaking off the pain, I continue wheeling myself down the crowded hallway. Stuck .
“Excuse me,” I say, shifting to peer through the chaos of bodies and backpacks. So far, my first day at school has sucked even more than I thought possible.
That isn’t how I envisioned my conversation with Julianna going. At all. She knows about my dad. Obviously. I just need her to answer questions about this photo booth picture, about the night I can’t for the life of me remember.
I glimpse her through a narrow opening in the crowd and call out, “Julianna.”
She hears me; she has to.
“Julianna,” I call again.
She flinches, just a quick pause.
Some guy big enough to be a football lineman notices me. “Hey, watch out,” his voice booms, “wheelchair coming through.”
People see me now, slide out of the way. Two girls smile. Julianna’s about to pass my locker.
“Thanks, man,” I say and take off through the opening. “Julianna, wait.”
I’ve almost caught up to her now. I’m getting good at this wheelchair thing.
Her posture goes stiff and she dares a quick glance back. Forces her gaze forward again. Picks up her pace.
Oh, come on. She’s gotta have a heart in there somewhere.
I stop wheeling myself forward and rest my arms. “I’ll make it worth your time,” I say over the hallway commotion as she ignores me. “You name the price, babe, I’ll double it.”
She jerks to a stop, her spine zipping up with tension.
She whirls around, red with embarrassment. People stare. Some snicker. One guy woops out a supporting holler and whistles, offering some man-to-man props. A couple of girls give Julianna the once-over with a look of disgust and I almost feel guilty.
She slinks back to my wheelchair, the color draining from her face as she darts an anxious look around at our audience. Or maybe she’s searching for the nearest open locker to disappear into.
She stops in front of me, her full lips drawing into a tempting little furrow as she regards me through narrowed eyes. I see why I
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