Dream Things True by Marie Marquardt Page B

you?”
    â€œYou’re near me now, aren’t you?”
    Her whisper almost did him in. He wanted to be closer.
    â€œYou know what I mean,” he said.
    Alma nodded, keeping full eye contact.
    â€œI know this place looks like the set of some lame high school movie, but it’s not. I’m not the captain of the football team, and I’m not playing around.”
    â€œNo, you’re the captain of the soccer team,” Alma said, looking away. Her face crumpled, as if she were in pain.
    â€œThis is the South, Alma. No one cares about soccer.”
    â€œExcept Mexicans,” she replied, her voice hardening at the edges.
    Even never knew how to respond when she said stuff like that. He wished he could just brush the comments off, or even get angry and defensive. Instead, he just felt confused, knowing there was some truth in them but not knowing how to acknowledge it. Right now, though, all he wanted was for her to stop avoiding him.
    â€œThe point is, Alma, I want to be with you,” he said quietly, “and I’m pretty sure you want to be with me,”
    Alma shrugged.
    â€œSo why can’t we just do this?”
    Alma paused, and then she looked directly into his eyes. “You can’t handle me.”
    He leaned back, reeling. Alma didn’t know what he could handle—what he handled every day. He absolutely could handle her—if she would just give him a chance.
    â€œWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked, anger rising in his voice.
    Alma sank against the Hummer, arms hugging her chest.
    â€œIt’s complicated, Evan.”
    She sounded vulnerable and sad. His anger gave way to something else as he leaned in close, almost touching her, with one hand still raised, gripping the rack. With his other hand, he reached gently pushed a strand of hair from her face.
    â€œTry me,” Evan whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You’d be surprised by what I can handle.”
    She raised her chin and touched Evan’s hand, which lingered below her ear. He stepped back, hearing the scratchy voice of the principal calling for students to return to their classes.
    â€œI should get back,” Alma said. “I can’t afford to get in trouble.”
    â€œCan we talk tonight?”
    Alma hesitated.
    â€œI guess,” she replied. “I’m still grounded for another week, but my dad gave me my phone back. Just don’t call late. I have to be up by six to catch the bus.”
    â€œSix?” Evan asked. “Why so early? You don’t strike me as the primping type.”
    Alma laughed. “No, I’m not waking up to flat-iron my hair every morning. The bus comes at six thirty, something about busing schedules for the middle school. We get here an hour before school starts.”
    â€œBummer,” said Evan.
    â€œIt’s not so bad. It gives me time to do homework. I just wish the bus would stop downtown at the Dripolator on the way to school. A double cappuccino would make the morning way more bearable,” she called out as she took off toward school.
    Evan leaned against the Hummer and watched her perfect legs carry her across the field, and a plan took shape in his mind.
    â€œHey, Mr. Country Club!”
    Evan heard a stern voice behind him. He turned to see a Latino guy about his age with a shaved head and tattoos snaking up from under his wifebeater and around his throat. If he hadn’t been in Gilberton, Evan might have thought this guy was a gangster.
    â€œAre you talking to me?” Evan asked, turning to face the guy. He didn’t mean to sound aggressive.
    â€œYeah, I’m talking to you,” the guy said, slowly approaching. “Do you see anyone else in this parking lot?”
    Evan didn’t answer.
    â€œThat your Hummer?”
    â€œWho wants to know?” Evan asked.
    This guy was pissing him off.
    â€œI said , is that your Hummer?”
    The Hummer was