Layne’s pencil snapped against the paper.
“Who?” said Taylor.
“Layne.” He still wasn’t looking at her.
Layne felt like the end of that pencil had lodged in her throat.
“Layne,” said Taylor, putting a finger to her lips. “Layne. I don’t think I know anyone named . . .”
“Me,” snapped Layne. “My name is Layne.”
“But wait,” said Taylor in that sickly sweet tone. “Everyone here knows your name is butchy dykey les ”
“Hey.” Gabriel came halfway out of his chair.
“Excuse me.” Ms. Anderson was standing right there, almost next to Layne’s desk.
Layne flushed again and looked back at her math book.
“Sorry, Ms. Anderson,” said Taylor, her voice still sweet.
“We were just talking about how much we love this class since you took over.”
The teacher pursed her lips. “Let’s settle down so we can begin.”
When the teacher went back to the front of the room, Layne tried to get her heart to settle down. What did he mean? He wanted her help now?
A folded piece of notebook paper landed on the edge of her desk.
She unfolded it to find Gabriel’s handwriting.
You don’t have to. I just needed her to
shut up.
Layne swallowed. He was so hard to read sometimes. Like with his phone number. Did this note mean he wanted her to help, or did it mean he wanted her to give him an out?
When she’d hugged him in the woods, his entire body had been tight, like he wasn’t sure how to react. She hadn’t imagined the emotion, the pain in his voice.
And then he’d pushed her away.
No. Wait. She’d pulled away.
This was so confusing and her life was already full up on confusing.
Another note appeared on the corner of her desk. She unfolded it slowly.
I’m sorry about this morning. There’s a
lot going on. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk.
He’d apologized to her twice now. She didn’t get the impres-sion Gabriel Merrick apologized for very much.
Layne carefully pulled a piece of paper free.
I’ll help you, she wrote. She folded it up.
And then she stared at it for the whole period, deliberating. If she was reading this wrong, it was just another opportunity for him to reject her. He could roll his eyes and ignore her.
He could hurt her. Again.
Thank god she’d started the questions for the next unit, because she didn’t hear a word the teacher said.
When the bell rang, she shoved her books into her bag quickly.
And before she could change her mind, she dropped the note on his desk.
Then, without waiting to see his reaction, she walked out of class.
CHAPTER 21
Layne flipped through an old yearbook in the library, trying to tune out Kara’s whining.
“I just don’t understand why you’re wasting so much time on one stupid project. Aren’t you hungry? ”
“I brought my lunch.” A lie. But her stomach was in knots from the drama with Gabriel, and food seemed like a bad idea.
“If you’re so hungry, go hang out in the cafeteria.”
“And leave you by yourself? God, Layne, do you know how that would look?”
Layne rolled her eyes, hoping yet not hoping that Kara wouldn’t see it. “Thanks for your concern.”
“Layne! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
The bright voice had Layne jerking her head up.
There stood Taylor Morrissey and Heather Castelline. Glossy hair, glossy lips, formfitting clothes. Paragons of perfection.
Layne wondered if she should be running but they were on the cheer squad and could probably catch her. Would they beat the crap out of her right here in the library?
Kara’s mouth was hanging open.
“Hi?” Layne offered.
Taylor was smiling at her. “We were wondering if you were coming tonight. See, everyone is bringing something, and we’re trying to plan.”
“Coming where?” said Layne.
Heather giggled. “The party, silly.”
Kara punched her leg under the table.
Layne folded her arms across her chest. “The party. You want me to come to your party.”
“Well, Gabriel said you guys are friends, and it’s so obvious he’s got a thing for you, so ”
Kara punched her leg again. Layne was ready to hit her back.
She narrowed her eyes at Taylor. “Funny. In class you said I was a . . . wait, let me get this straight . . . a butchy dykey ”
“Please,” said Heather, rolling her eyes. “We call each other that all the time. Taylor’s a total whore.”
Taylor flipped her hair. “Totally. So are you coming or what?”
Layne stared at her.
“Yes,” said Kara. “Yes, we’re coming.”
Layne studied them. “I don’t buy it.”
She blocked her leg before Kara could punch her again.
“Look.” Taylor pulled out the chair and dropped into it. “I know we’re not always nice. But that’s how we have to be, or we’d be surrounded by losers.” She shrugged. “If Gabriel Merrick says you’re in, you’re in.”
“Come a little early,” said Heather. She stepped around the table and picked up the end of Layne’s braid. “We’ll do your hair. I bet you have awesome hair.”
Layne couldn’t move.
“She does,” said Kara. “It’s, like, all the way to her waist.”
“If you don’t want to come,” Taylor said, “I totally get it. I mean, Gabriel wasn’t going to come until I told him we’d be inviting you . . .”
Layne tried to imagine it, Taylor confronting him in the hallway, Gabriel brushing her off until hearing Layne would be there.
No way.
Then she thought of those two notes on her desk.
Maybe?
“Here’s my address.” Heather slid a piece of paper across the table. “Come at seven. Everyone else will show up around eight.”
Layne glanced down at the paper not like she needed to. It figured that Heather wouldn’t even remember that Layne lived right down the street. But it meant she wouldn’t be trapped at the party. If the girls started acting bitchy, she could walk home.
“Okay,” she said, hating that part of her was a little eager.
She hated these girls. Hated them.
But sometimes she desperately wished she were more like them.
Especially lately.
“I’ll come,” she said. “Seven?”
“We’ll come,” said Kara.
“Great,” said Taylor. “Bring something sweet, ’kay?”
Layne ticked down the minutes until her father would walk in the door. Another late night, as usual. She’d called to tell him that she and Kara were going to a friend’s house down the street, and he’d promised to be home before they left.
She and Kara had baked chocolate chip cookies, and they sat on a plate, covered in saran wrap. Kara was actually being nice for a change, and for the first time, Layne wondered if this was what a friendship was supposed to feel like: laughter and teasing and baking cookies.
Simon was upstairs, locked in his room. He’d worn a different shirt home from school, and when she’d tried to ask what his problem was, he’d given her a pretty universal sign of displeasure.
Kara was licking the spatula. “Are you seriously going to wear jeans and a turtleneck? To a party?”
Layne shrugged. “I think you’re showing enough skin for both of us.”
Kara was, in a spaghetti-strap top and skintight denim capris.
The pants were a little too tight, but Layne didn’t feel like opening that can of worms.
Kara dropped the spatula into the sink. “I have no idea how you got one of the Merrick brothers’ attention.”
“Me neither.”
“You don’t have to show skin to look sexy, for god’s sake.
What if you wore tights and a skirt? You could even keep the turtleneck.”
Layne hesitated.
Kara grabbed Layne’s hand and started dragging her toward the stairs. “At least try.”
Kara fished through Layne’s closet with abandon. Most of the clothes were older, grade-school stuff.
“Here!” She yanked out a pleated black and red plaid skirt.
Layne made a face. “Please. I used to wear that in fifth grade.
To church.”
She had. With her parents. They’d gone as a family, sitting together. Then they’d all go out for brunch. Everyone would smile and look happy.
What a joke.
“That means it’s perfect now,” said Kara. “Do you have black tights?”
Layne did. She wore them under her riding breeches in the winter.
She took a breath. “I don’t think ”
“Just try it. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it.”
So she tried it, in the bathroom, where Kara couldn’t see her change. The black tights were opaque; not even a hint of flesh peeking through. The skirt was short, almost indecently so. The pleats barely covered her backside. But the black tights made it less hooker and more . . . playful.
Even so, the black turtleneck made her look like she was going to a funeral.
A slutty funeral.
She could never wear this.
A knock at the door shocked her out of her thoughts. “Layne!
Look what I found!”
Layne pulled the door open, and Kara gasped. “Oh, you are so wearing that.”
“No way.”
“Did you see what those other girls were wearing? For once in your life would you try to fit in?”
She remembered that feeling from the library. It would probably be dark at the party, right? Layne swallowed. “Maybe.”
“With these.” Kara held up black boots. Matte leather, a stacked two-inch heel, and laces that went all the way up.
Layne remembered those boots. She knew kids whose whole outfits didn’t cost as much as those boots. Her mom had bought them for her right before high school started. “Please, Laynie,”
she’d said. “Wear something that doesn’t look like it came from the Goodwill.”
Layne had buried them in the back of her closet.
She reached out and touched the leather. Smooth as butter.
“All right,” she whispered.
The boots, when combined with the tights and skirt, made her legs look twenty miles long.
Kara started digging through her dresser. “Too much black.
You need something here!”
She was holding out a red turtleneck. Layne rarely wore it; the fabric was thin and it clung to her body.
Not to mention, it screamed with color and demanded attention.
“Wear it,” snapped Kara.
Layne heard her father’s keys in the door.
“Now,” said Kara. She backed out the door, pulling it closed behind her. “It’s almost time to go.”
Layne yanked the shirt over her head and didn’t look in the mirror. If she did, she’d never have the courage to walk out of this house. She just threw open the door and went downstairs.
Her father took one look at her and dropped all the mail he was carrying. He coughed. “I thought you said it was a girls’
night.”
“It is!” cried Kara. “Heather is going to do Layne’s hair, and we’re going to stuff ourselves with cookies ”
“Kara, I hope you don’t think I’m a fool.”
Kara rolled her eyes. “Mr. Forrest, no offense, but I don’t think you know much about girls’ nights.”
He looked at her, then back at Layne. “Maybe I should drive you.”
“Sure,” said Layne easily. Thank god they were going early.