“I thought so too,” I said. “You got off easy.” I detangled my hand from his and rubbed his arm, trying to rub some of his usual life back into him. “I was impressed with your waiter skills. I had no idea you were so highly trained. You never pull out all these stops when I come here without my parents.”
“I’m not going to do all that shit for you guys,” he muttered. “You’re my friends, and I’m in a hurry to get back to another table, and y’all aren’t going to tip me anyway.”
“Of course we tip you!” I said, thinking back to the last time Sawyer had waited on me when I’d paid for my food myself. It was the last time I’d been here, two weeks ago exactly, and I could have sworn I’d tipped him fifteen percent.
“Not when Aidan pays, you don’t.”
My hand stopped on his arm as I gaped at him. “Really?” I was horrified. I’d had no idea Aidan was that rude to anyone but me. And Sawyer needed the money, now more than ever.
He looked away. Even in the dim blinking lights, I could tell he was blushing.
I took both his hands in mine. “You know, your parents have a legal responsibility to take care of you until you turn eighteen.”
“Yeah, well, I’m about to turn eighteen.”
“You don’t turn eighteen until March fifteenth, Sawyer.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why do you know when my birthday is?”
“I just do.” I didn’t let on that I’d surprised myself with this knowledge too. I knew generally when most of my friends’ birthdays were, as in, what month. I’d memorized specific days for Tia, Harper, Aidan, and Sawyer.
“That’s a long time for you to go without a real place to live,” I said. “Did your dad kick you out, or did you just leave?”
“I left,” he said darkly.
“Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said so vehemently that, nosey as I was, I didn’t dare try to turn over that rock again.
Instead I said, “You should talk to someone. One of the counselors at school.”
“No! Guys don’t do that.”
“Not the weird counselor with the muttonchop sideburns,” I said quickly. “The nice one, Ms. Malone. Go in and tell her whatever you don’t want to tell me. You obviously need to tell somebody. You’re this big ball of stress.” I reached up and rubbed his shoulders, kneading the soft notches next to his shoulder blades. Sure enough, the muscles there were tight with his anxiety. Even tighter than mine. “Promise me you’ll go Monday.”
He let out an appreciative sigh and let his head fall forward so that some strands of his hair got caught in mine. He groaned, “No.”
Leaving my hands on his shoulders, I stopped rubbing. “Promise me, and there’s more where this came from.”
“Okay,” he said instantly.
I made a few more hard circles with my fingers, then let him go. “I have something to ask you. I know we’ve been out here a while, though, and you need to go back to work. Our table from hell isn’t your only table.”
“I told another server to cover for me while I took a break,” he said. “So, yeah, I need to get back, but you can ask me something. Shoot.”
“It’s a parliamentarian question,” I said. “When Aidan broke up with me last night, he also told me to resign as vice president.”
Sawyer was shaking his head.
I went on. “I told him no. He said he would go to Ms. Yates. I said I would go to you.”
“Exactly.” Sawyer sounded like his sarcastic self again. “There’s nothing in the student council charter giving him that power. Ms. Yates knows that. After Friday’s meeting, she also knows I understand the charter, and I’d make a stink. If they tried to take the position away from you, theoretically you could sue the school system for not following its own written rules. There’s no way Principal Chen would let that happen.”
“I shouldn’t worry?” I asked. “I figured he was bluffing to see if he could make me resign.”
“No,” Sawyer said, “don’t worry. The charter gives Aidan very little power. The only reason he has power around school is that he says he does, and other people believe him.” He eyed me hard. By “other people” he meant me.
I would prove Sawyer wrong about this.
“Are you working tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“All day.”
I’d been afraid of this. “All night, too?”
“Yes.”
“My parents are taking Barrett to the airport midafternoon. I’m going to make my escape, drive over here, explore some shops, and try to figure out where we might be able to hold the homecoming dance. Maybe I’ll pop in to visit you.”
“Do,” he said. “I’ll see you then.” He didn’t smile, exactly, but he looked a lot less tortured than he had when I’d come out here. I headed inside.
But as I looked back over my shoulder at him, he was staring out at the alleyway again. He ran his hand through his hair and gripped the back of his head like he wanted to pull his scalp off.
When I returned to the table, my parents were finishing their food. Barrett’s plate was empty, and several of my shrimp had gone missing. Plopping down in my chair, I told my mother, “I hope you’re happy. You scared the life out of Saw—”