Mr. Santos appeared at the front of the class like there had been a trapdoor in the ceiling he’d fallen out of. That took talent. “All right, kiddos. We’re going to start class off with a little exercise.” He clapped his hands together, startling the boy in the front of the room that had already drifted off to sleep. “When it comes to public speaking, practice is key. The more you do it, the easier it gets. Trust me.”
A tingling started in my fingers as I straightened.
“When I was your age—”
“A century ago,” someone muttered.
Santos shot the kid a droll look. “Cute. Anyway, when I was your age a few decades ago, the thought of talking in front of a bunch of people made me want to vomit.”
“Yikes,” murmured a girl.
There was a good chance I was going to hurl, myself.
“So it was something I had to work at. We all do. That means we’re going to kick off with a quick introduction.”
“Oh, shit,” Rider muttered under his breath.
Santos continued, oblivious to the fact that I was staring at him with my eyes peeled so wide it was like I no longer had eyelids. “Each of you will stand up, face the class, give us your name and tell us one thing you like—keep it classy, folks—and one thing you don’t like. Again, PG rated.”
Laughter followed, but the blood was draining from my head so fast I felt dizzy. No. I had weeks to prepare for this. Talking in front of the class was not supposed to happen today or tomorrow or next week.
“Mallory.” Rider called my name in a whisper.
My hands gripped the edge of the desk as my pulse did its own version of house music. My throat was tightening up as my eyes swung in his direction. Hector’s and Paige’s faces were a blur. A chair scratched across the floor and my gaze followed the sound.
A guy was standing, hitching up his pants. As instructed, he faced the class. “My name is Leon Washington.” A big grin covered his face. “I don’t like cheese. And I like the chicks in the vids.”
Chuckles and giggles rose while Santos shot him a look. Leon plopped down, and up went a girl. My breath was coming out in fast gasps. Paige sat at the end of the first row, Rider at the second, and me at the end of the third. There were seventeen chairs in front of me, two empty.
Oh, God.
My wide gaze darted to Rider. Understanding was etched into his expression, in the hard set of his jaw. His gaze darted to the girl who was now standing.
“I’m Laura Kaye.” She brushed shoulder-length brown hair back from her face as she turned to the class. “I...um, I like driving with loud music on. And I don’t like...” Her cheeks flushed pink. “And I don’t like gossiping bitches.”
Mr. Santos sighed.
The class erupted into laughter.
Laura sat down with a satisfied smile on her face.
There was a good chance I was going to have a heart attack as another guy stood, his face already the color of a tomato.
“Mallory,” Rider whispered, and my panicked stare drifted to him. Over his shoulder, I was aware of Paige watching us. “You can do this,” he said in a hushed voice. “You can.”
His eyes held mine, and he stared at me like his words alone held the power to convince me, but he was wrong. I couldn’t do this. The plug at the top of my throat turned into a seal. Oh, God, there was no way I could get any words out. A viselike pressure clamped down on my chest, seeming to completely cut off my airway. An all-too-familiar icy burn splashed across the base of my neck.
I couldn’t do this.
Chapter 10
I don’t remember gathering up my textbook or shoving it into my bag. I also didn’t remember picking up my bag or standing. I was in a tunnel that was dark around the edges and the only light was the doorway.
Another girl was standing and introducing herself, but I couldn’t hear anything she said as my legs moved. In a daze, I was out of the classroom and into the silent hall. My chest burned as I kept walking, half running, and I didn’t stop until I was outside, dashing toward my car as the thick, overcast skies threatened to let loose with the rain.
Oh my God, I couldn’t believe it.
Stopping at the side of my car, I dropped my bag and bent over, clasping my knees.
I’d just run out of class.
Breathing heavily, I squeezed my eyes shut, clenched them so tightly, I saw tiny pinpricks of light. I was so damn weak and so stupid. All I had to do was stand up and say my name. Say one thing I liked and one thing I didn’t. That wasn’t hard, but my brain... It just didn’t work right. It shut down, gave up on me in a moment of panic.
“Mallory?”
I jerked upright and spun around, nearly losing my balance as my gaze locked with hazel eyes. Rider stood in front of me, the fragile notebook clutched in his hand. Of course, he’d left class to come after me.
Nothing had changed.
A new rush of mortification burned my cheeks as I turned away from him, staring out over the empty football field. Tears of frustration leaped to my eyes.
“I said you got sick,” he said after a moment. “No one thinks anything weird. Hell, you ate school lunch, so it’s believable. Santos let me leave class to check on you. I’m supposed to go back, but...”
But he wasn’t going to.
Closing my eyes, I shook my head. My skin prickled like a thousand angry fire ants had started marching across my arms and back. Four days at school, and I’d run. I’d done just what Rosa and Carl most likely feared. I’d done exactly—
“Mouse, are you okay?” There was a pause and I felt his hand on my arm.