Secret of the Sevens by Lynn Lindquist Page A

someone.” I slide my lunch in front of him. “Here. It’s all yours.”
    â€œWhat’s with you lately, bro?”
    I ignore him and walk out the cafeteria.

    Delaney is exactly where I guessed she’d be—sitting in Solomon’s room a half hour before class starts. She doesn’t notice when I walk in. She’s staring into a textbook with her eyes frozen on one spot, her mouth drooping at the corners. One finger is unconsciously picking at the corner of the page.
    I want to tell her I’m sorry. I want to explain that I’m not the smooth talker everyone thinks I am. I want to admit that I wish I was smart and serious and innocent, like her. That I’d be those things in a heartbeat if I could. But I can’t.
    I want to say all those things, but what comes out is, “I thought I’d find you here. Are you brushing up on your Ethics and Virtue?”
    The second she notices me, her mouth shrinks to a tight line. “Yes. I thought it’d probably be a good idea,” she says, “considering I spent half my morning thinking of ways to torture you.”
    â€œYou spent half your morning thinking about me?”
    She grunts and returns to her book.
    I park myself in the chair in front of her, straddling it backward.
    â€œWhat do you want, Talan?”
    â€œI want to talk to you.”
    She doesn’t look up. “Let me guess. You’re here to brag that you’ve solved the puzzle?”
    â€œNo.” I take a deep breath. “To apologize.”
    She stops picking at the page and slowly closes the cover of her book.
    A knot twists in my gut. “Laney, why didn’t you ever tell me you felt that way? About the teasing?”
    The edge in her voice disappears. “I have to tell you I don’t like being made fun of?”
    I lean my face in front of hers until she looks at me. “Yeah, you do. I can’t read your mind. You always went along before and dished it right back. I thought, well, I thought it was kind of funny. I figured you did too.”
    She shakes her head slowly.
    â€œI never meant it mean. I was teasing … like flirting. I do that to all the girls.”
    â€œIf that’s flirting, you suck at it.”
    â€œI’m sorry then. But you know I didn’t mean to hurt you. God Laney, I hate bullies. You don’t know the shit I went through with bullies as a kid. Always calling me retarded because I couldn’t read and knocking me around. They made my old school hell for me.”
    Her tone changes instantly. “I’m sorry.”
    I hate her pitying me, yet my body warms when her voice goes all tender like that. “Don’t be,” I joke. “Look how incredibly cool and popular I turned out.”
    She laughs a little, and it thaws the chill between us .
    â€œAnyhow, things got better once I got to Singer,” I say. “From my first night. In fact, I still remember this one kid. He carried my garbage bag of stuff to your mom and dad’s house for me. He was huge, like a grown-up. He must have been a junior or senior. He looked down at me at one point and said, ‘Don’t worry, little man, you’ll like it here. Your past doesn’t have to dictate your future.’ I had no clue what dictate meant, but he gave me some of his M&M’s, so I figured it was a good thing.”
    God, I sound like a pussy.
    â€œOf course, I still fantasize about going back and kicking the shit out of those bullies.” I wink at her. “But don’t tell your parents that. I’d hate for them to think all those child psychology classes were wasted on me.”
    Laney makes one of those smiles that shows in her eyes. It takes me hostage for a second.
    â€œI’m sorry if I hurt you … forgive me?” I smirk and add, “You know I have to work on my social skills.”
    It’s a joke in our family. When I first came to Singer, I got a ton of