Sunder by Tara Brown

bullshit.”
     
    I folded my arms. “I hear that.” The upstairs of the store was not much different from the downstairs. “Your grandma sure liked stuff, huh?”
     
    She passed me an egg salad sandwich and laughed. “She was a hoarder. It’s going to take us years to clean this crap up. Old books that aren’t even in English.” She walked to a dusty old bookshelf and pulled one of the books off. She opened it and pointed.
     
    It was in some kind of language I had never seen before. “That’s weird. I wonder what that is?” I took a bite of the sandwich and felt instantly better. There was something homey about it. It was like a hug from my mom in a sandwich. Liz seemed to cool off too. She turned on some music, a song I didn’t know that was a little more wrist cutter than I was used to, while it was still daylight.
     
    We sat down on the chairs and stared. It wasn’t an awkward silence. It was something else. Like being stoned. I looked at the half-eaten sandwich and cocked an eyebrow. “Does your mom drug your food?”
     
    Her head snapped towards me. “Huh?”
     
    “I feel crazy relaxed like I smoked pot or something.”
     
    She started to laugh. It made me laugh too. It was involuntary. We both lost ourselves in the laughing.
     
    She stammered. “I-I-I think sh-sh-she might h-h-h-have d-d-d-drugged us!”
     
    I laughed harder. It got to the point I made no sound, just a wheeze. It matched Liz’s. Tears were streaming my face, and I couldn’t help but curl up, trying to get a grip on myself.
     
    The laughing stopped for us both instantly. Liz looked at me, stunned and unsure of what that was. We both looked at the sandwiches, not speaking or sure of what had just happened.
     
    “Want to go to your house?”
     
    I nodded.
     
    We got up slowly, rounding the couches in an odd way but giving the plate of food a wide berth.
     
    I shuddered, cold suddenly. “Okay, that was spooky.”
     
    “I know. My mom said my grandma was weird, but dude, that was crazy. Her bread must be, like, stoner bread.”
     
    It made me giggle again the way she said stoner. We looked and sounded like stoners.
     
    She pointed at a white door. “Meet you out front? I just have to grab something.”
     
    “Yup.” I walked down the stairs and walked into the shop. Her mom wasn’t there. I went to the back door we had come in and walked out into the grey day of the alley.
     
    “Come here often?”
     
    I grimaced as I spun around. “Seriously?”
     
    He smiled and my stomach burned. How was Briton, my new teacher and the guy who had humiliated me, also now standing in a random alley staring down on me. His dark eyes were like magnets. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t even want to.
     
    “I have to see the new owner.”
     
    “What?” What was he talking about?
     
    He pointed at the door. “To the shop—Liz’s mom.” He seemed like he was being nice, but I didn’t want to trust it. He was one of those head-game dudes, and my freaking teacher now. He took a step towards me, speaking quietly. “I wanted to tell you, I’m sorry you think I’m a jerk. I honestly had to talk to an old friend before I could dance. I wanted to dance, with you. I took the job at the school because of you. I had to see you.”
     
    What a confession. He blushed and looked down, then looked up at me through his lashes. My heart stopped for a second and then started back up with a vengeance. He took my hands in his, holding them like they were fragile—so tenderly I could barely feel the heat from them. In fact, there was no heat. He was cool, from the alley no doubt. He squeezed a little. “I want you . . .”
     
    My breathing was lost in the sentence. But then he finished it. “To give me a second chance at my first impression with you.”
     
    I nodded. I didn’t even want to.
     
    He smiled and everything got funny. My hands were sweaty and clutching to him. He seemed so controlled and cool for such a vulnerable