I’d been smaller, perched on the edge of a lumpy, narrow mattress. My stomach had been empty, twisting and churning from the hunger pains. In the middle of summer without any air-conditioning, my hair had clung to my cheeks, and sweat pooled in areas it shouldn’t have when you were sitting still.
Rider had been gone all day.
Miss Becky, during one of her rare moments of sobriety, had taken Rider to the mall with her—the nice, air-conditioned mall. Rider had been Miss Becky’s favorite. I remembered crying, because I’d wanted to go, but she had scolded me, telling me to stop acting like a baby. I’d stayed in the airless room all day, because Mr. Henry had also been home, and I hadn’t wanted to draw his attention. It was when Rider came home that night that he’d brought the doll with him.
“I felt bad,” he’d said, handing it over. He’d worn the same grin then as he did now, an odd and charming mixture of uncertainty and confidence.
What Paige had said earlier resurfaced with a vengeance.
I felt bad.
She had said that Rider had been on a guilt trip for the last four years, and now I could totally see that so clearly. It made sense. Rider had suffered in that home, but in some ways, he had been treated better than me. His guilt spurred the crazy and sometimes fatalistic need to put himself in front of Mr. Henry’s fists and me. My reappearance in his life had caused him to immediately step, once again, into the role of the protector. I felt... Suddenly, I felt gross. Like I’d been outside all day when it was muggy. I wanted to go home, strip off my clothes, burn them and then shower for days. The weight of the pity he must have felt for me and the level of guilt he’d carried was suffocating. Stupid tears burned the back of my throat.
God, this was humiliating.
I stepped back, tightening my grip on the strap of my book bag. Now was the time to have this conversation. “Do you feel guilty?”
Rider blinked. “What?”
“Have you been...on a guilt trip, because of...because of me?” I asked, forcing the words out even though it sort of hurt to do so.
His mouth moved for a moment, forming words that weren’t spoken, and then he stiffened as if someone dropped steel down his spine. “Why are you asking that?”
“Why won’t you answer it?” I returned.
“I don’t even know what kind of question that is, Mouse. Or why you would even think that.”
My brows rose. “You...really don’t?”
A moment passed and his hand tightened around his notebook. He didn’t answer, and I drew in a deep breath. “You...you told Paige about me.”
“Jesus.” Looking sideways, he hung his head. A muscle thrummed along his jaw. “Did she say this stuff to you, Mouse? For real?”
I raised a shoulder. One he didn’t see, because he wasn’t looking at me. He was watching a bright yellow Volkswagen Bug back out of a nearby parking spot. “No,” I lied. “Not really, but it... It got me thinking about things.”
“When? I haven’t seen you two talk at all.”
“I ran into her this morning.” Which was sort of true and better-sounding than saying that she was lying in wait for me.
“Mouse...”
I waited.
“I told her some of the stuff about what went down. Looking back, I probably shouldn’t have done that. Shit. I never expected you to come back or that there’d even be a chance that she would talk to you.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that since I didn’t ever expect to see him again, either, but the sense of betrayal was still there, brimming low in my stomach. Even in that moment I realized it was irrational. Talking to Paige didn’t make Rider disloyal to me, because there was nothing to be loyal to, but that didn’t change the festering hurt.
“I didn’t tell her everything.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “She knew...I didn’t talk a lot.”
“That wasn’t me. I never told her that.” He turned harder eyes on me. “Last Tuesday she was over at Hector’s place and he was asking about you. I was talking to him, letting him know that you were quiet and not very talkative. She must’ve overheard me, because I never told her that directly.” There was a pause. “Did Paige say I did?”
Although it wasn’t true, I shook my head.
His shoulders rose with a deep breath and then he used his fingers to brush a strand of hair that had fallen loose throughout the day back behind my ear. A sweet tingle radiated across my cheek and then spread down my spine as he clasped his hand around the nape of my neck.
I didn’t know what to say as we stared at each other. Conflicted, I was sure that even if I didn’t have a problem using my voice, I’d still have no idea what to say in this situation.
Rider held my gaze for a moment and then, using his hand along the back of my neck, he guided me toward him. His other arm swept around my back as he pulled me in for a tight hug that was warm and solid.
He stepped back, his hand lingering. “Talk later?”
I smiled and nodded, but even though his touch had been nice and the hug even better, I couldn’t help but notice that Rider hadn’t answered my question.
Chapter 14
The second week of school was pretty much like the first one.
Well, kind of. I didn’t flee any classes. Score. Rider had texted me Monday night. Just a small text that said good-night and he’d called me Mouse. Unlike the last time, I managed not to be an utter dork and responded with my very own good-night. After Monday, Paige didn’t make any surprise visits at my locker. Score number two. Talking back to her Monday seemed to have done the trick. Score number three. She pretty much ignored me in speech class while busying herself with flirting with Rider. Monday through Thursday I’d eaten lunch at Keira’s table, and yesterday I’d actually managed to respond to a question asked of me. Not one but two! That was a score implosion.