Kyland

. . . crazy . . . affair years back . . . never right . . . gotten worse . . . shameful . . . disgusting.

I wished they'd all shut the fuck up. Tenleigh doesn't deserve this.

"Tenleigh, I need to go tell someone I'm leaving and then I'm going to take you home, all right?" As she looked at me, some sort of understanding seemed to come into her eyes. But she remained quiet, the same look of devastation on her face. "Okay," I confirmed. "I'll be right back. Stay right here. I'll be right back," I repeated.

I started making my way back to Shelly—it wasn't like I was her ride, but I figured it was the decent thing to do, and I heard the door slam behind me. I looked back and Tenleigh was gone. Shit. I looked over to where Shelly was standing looking at me expectantly. I paused only very briefly, and then I turned and ran after Tenleigh.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tenleigh

The tears started before I'd even taken three steps outside the door of the school. The sudden blast of cold was like a slap to my face. It felt like the physical version of what I'd just experienced emotionally, in front of most of the student body and a good number of parents, too—humiliation and deep, deep shame. I ran faster, the wind hitting my skin like razor blades, my feet slipping on the icy road.

"Tenleigh!" I heard called behind me. Kyland. Stupid Kyland who had sat two seats away from me in the dark theater as a girl fondled him under her jacket. And I had no right to be filled with hot, painful jealousy. And yet I had been. He hadn't even wanted to kiss me. He'd made that blatantly clear by pushing me away, and yet seeing him with another girl sent hurt ratcheting down my spine. I'd wanted to cry and throttle her . . . or him, or both, I wasn't even sure. And I had no right—I was no one to him. All my life I was just a nothing, a nobody. My life was small and worthless. And it hurt so badly.

"Go away, Kyland!" I screamed back at him, hiccupping and picking up speed.

"Tenleigh, stop! You're going to hurt yourself. Stop!"

"What do you care?" I yelled, still running, slipping and jutting my arms to the side, righting myself before I went down.

"Tenleigh!" I heard him gaining on me and so I picked up some snow and turned around and threw it at him, letting out a small sob. I was being an immature child—I knew it. And yet it didn't seem that I had anything to lose. The snowball hit him in the shoulder and I turned and kept running, my steps clunky and ungraceful in the snow.

"Jesus, Tenleigh!" Kyland yelled. I turned around and picked up more snow and started hurling it at him over and over as he ducked and swore, but kept coming toward me. I turned around again and ran. I got about three steps and my feet went out from under me, sending me sprawling into a snow bank to my right. I cried out and then lay there sobbing, staring up at the clear winter sky as fat snowflakes fell on my face. I felt utterly desolate, and utterly alone. I registered Kyland's footsteps quickly approaching me and then I was scooped up, his warm arms around me, lifting me out of the snow as I continued to cry, the fight in me gone. "Shh," I heard in Kyland's smooth, masculine voice. "Shh, I've got you. You're okay. You're okay, Tenleigh. I've got you."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, shivering, trying to press myself closer into his warmth, his soothing words.

He carried me a little way and then sat down and held me to him as I cried more tears from a seemingly never-ending reservoir of pain. He was murmuring something against the top of my head that I didn't compute, words of comfort. And although I didn't process them, they soothed me all the same.

I thought back to the looks on the faces around me as my mama was dragged down to the ground in her dingy, see-through dress. I squeezed my eyes shut. It had to be one of the worst hurts in the entire world—being embarrassed by someone who was meant to protect you, not humiliate you. And yet I still loved her so much.

After a little bit, my tears stopped, but I didn't lift my head. Kyland kept gripping me tightly and when I finally looked around, I saw that we were sitting in the doorway of a closed hairdressing shop—protected from the weather by the small overhang above the door. We sat together, breathing, still shivering slightly, Kyland's arms around me as I gripped his coat in my fists and took comfort in his closeness.

"Kyland," I finally murmured.

"Yes, Tenleigh?"

"I'm sorry I threw snow at you," I whispered.

"It's okay. I deserved it . . . Tenleigh, I'm sorry for tonight. With Shelly . . . it . . ." He sounded unsure of what to say.

I released a defeated sigh. "You don't have anything to apologize for. You made it clear that we're not anything to each other." Kyland was silent and when I glanced up at him, he was running his tongue thoughtfully over his bottom lip, a small frown creasing his brow. I looked back down, my chest squeezing. I didn't blame him for not wanting to kiss me. Who would want to kiss the daughter of the town crazy? Who would want to attach himself to a girl like me? The thing I heard kids whispering at school sometimes was true—I was nothing but trailer trash. He might be poor, too, but his parents didn't humiliate him in public. In fact, his father and his brother died heroically, working hard to provide for their family. My own father had taken one look at me and hit the road.

"Kyland," I said again.

"Yes, Tenleigh?" he repeated.

I lifted my head and met his eyes—dark and in shadow in the dim light of the covered doorway. "I have to tell you something."