Crash

“Everyone is going to be talking about me and staring at me and whispering through class about me. I need to be in a better mental state of mind to handle that kind of ridicule.”

He grabbed my hand in his and squeezed. “No, they won’t,” he vowed. “I won’t let them.”

“You won’t let them?” I repeated, looking down where his hand wrapped around mine. “What are you, the godfather of the Southpointe mafia?”

“My ancestors were like Mennonites or something, so we’re not big into the whole mafia thing,” he said, reaching across my lap and grabbing my bag. “But give me a little credit. I’ve built up a lot of clout at this school over the years.” Giving my hand a tug, he motioned towards the school.

“Let me guess, it’s your boyish good looks and smile,” I said, sliding out of my seat and slamming the door. I couldn’t believe I was being coerced into attending class by Sawyer.

He grinned over at me. “My family owns a nice place down by the lake and I’ve thrown some killer parties over the years.”

“Ah,” I said, as a few guys greeted Sawyer across the courtyard. He waved, continuing on. “Nothing like the lure of alcohol and no chaperones to make you a god in the world of teenagers.”

“Precisely,” he laughed, pulling the door open for me. After weaving through the metal detectors, Sawyer stayed right with me, turning down the hall. “I thought you had ASB first period,” I said, as a few more students passed by us, high-fiving Sawyer and barely taking note of me. It was like he was some personal cloaking device.

“I do.”

“So why are you coming with me to Literature?”

“Because I want to,” he said without pause.

It was a little odd, Sawyer sticking to me like glue, bringing me flowers, the whole bit, but I felt steadier with him by my side, more grounded. And I needed to feel grounded to get through a day like this.

“And Mr. Peters is going to be cool with you sauntering into class and hanging out like you own the place?” Sawyer had influence, but not that much.

“I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“Really?” I said, stopping outside the classroom door.

He gave me a sheepish grin. “My dad’s on the school board. My grandfather was before that. My family’s dug six foot deep into this school.”

Unbelievable. “Well, then,” I said, sweeping my hand through the door. “After you.”

Sliding through the doorway, he plucked my hand from my side and towed me in. Everyone in class glanced up, looking between the two of us like they weren’t quite sure what was going on, but you could almost see half the class shrugging it off right away and the other half stared another second and got back to pulling their textbooks out. What the hell kind of influence did Sawyer have here at Southpointe and how could I replicate that elixir?

“Hey, Mr. Peters,” he greeted as he led us to a couple seats in the back of the room. “I’m going to sit in this morning.”

Mr. Peter’s eyes fell on me in a way I recognized, even he knew what had transpired at homecoming, before he nodded at Sawyer.

“I hope you’ll enjoy the finer points of literature, Mr. Diamond,” he said, turning to the board.

He looked back at me, his eyes light. “Oh, I will, Mr. Peters,” he said. “I will.”

The next three periods went the same way, although I called “no way” on Sawyer when he tried coming with me. It wasn’t because I wasn’t thankful for everything he’d done, how he smoothed out what should have been a hellish day, but I couldn’t carry him around like a security blanket all year long. He gave me the glimmer of confidence I needed to get through the rest of the day. I wasn’t totally immune to sideways stares or hushed voices, but they were a fraction of what I’d anticipated and I knew that had to do with Sawyer. I was in his debt, but didn’t know if that was a place I wanted to be.

Taylor looked like her head was about to blow up by the time I meandered to our table in the cafeteria. After ignoring her first five calls on Sunday morning, I just turned off the phone. I wouldn’t be able to dodge her inquires any longer.

“Did you drop your phone in the toilet or something?” she asked before I even sat down.

“My battery died and I couldn’t find my charger,” I said, smiling all innocent like at her. Was it still considered lying if it was done to keep blabber mouths like Taylor in the dark?

Her face changed—she actually bought that one. “You poor thing,” Taylor said, resting her hand on my arm. “As if your weekend needed to get any worse.”

I mm-hmm-ed through a sip of orange juice.

“Okay, where do we start?” she said, leaning closer. Lexie and Samantha dropped their celery sticks and leaned across the table.

I just wanted to get this over with. They wouldn’t relent until they’d sucked me dry of information, and I knew if I didn’t give them what they wanted, lies would be created to fill in the gaps.

“Where do you want to start?” I asked, popping the top back on my OJ.

“Did you know he’d stolen the car?” Taylor whispered, looking conspiratorially around the table.

“Of course not,” I answered, offended until I realized they were disappointed with my answer. In these girls’ books, I would be at least one or two shades cooler if I’d been in on or gone along with the whole vehicular theft thing.