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“
That’s a really good question, Mom. Perhaps you should ask Evan.” I turn on my heels and start down the hall.

“
Julia, are you sleeping around?”

I spin around, the heavy books digging into my arms. “Oh. My. God. How can you even ask me that?”

She looks embarrassed. Her eyes dart to the floor than back up at me. She crosses then uncrosses her arms. “It’s okay if you are.” She shakes her head. “No, it’s not okay, but you’re sixteen, and I can’t stop you if you really want to do it.”

“
Mom!”

“
But if you are, we can make sure that you’re
protected
.”

And I thought this day couldn’t get any worse. “I’m not sleeping around! How can you even
think
that?”

“
Well…”

Stomping off to my room, I slam the door behind me and throw my bag and books on the floor. They land with a heavy thud against the wall. A trickle of satisfaction runs through me when I see the new gouge. I drop onto the bed and cover my head with my pillow.

Mom knocks on my door later to tell me that dinner’s ready.

“
I’m not hungry!”

She doesn’t know I ate with Reece so let her feel guilty. That’s what she gets for accusing me of sleeping around. Especially since it couldn’t be farther from the truth. I only had my first kiss a day ago.

The thought of kissing Evan dampens my momentary burst of satisfaction. I dig my cell phone out of the bottom of my backpack, amazed it hasn’t been smashed by the books. I check the screen for texts or missed calls.

Nothing.

Rot in hell, Evan Whittaker
.

Chapter Thirteen

I’m the one rotting. If alternative school isn’t hell, it’s the closest a person can get without descending the seven circles.

And I was wrong. People do stare, but instead of with curiosity, they leer, sizing me up. The teachers are nice but harried, faced with far too many students in desperate need of attention. We can all thank state budget cuts for that.

My day is long and tedious. There are so many remedial students that we spend entire class periods on a fifteen-minute lesson. At lunch, I sit by myself. I’m used to it, yet I’m not prepared for the loneliness that washes through me. The thought of surviving the rest of the year here, let alone possibly my senior year, is enough to make me consider taking my antidepressants again.

I wonder how Reece survived. And why he went here in the first place.

And how he got out.

My appointment with Dr. Weaver is after school. The alternative school is close enough to his office that I can walk. After a lengthy argument last night over me driving, Mom finally relented and said she’d pick me up from my appointment after she got off work.

The final bell of the day rings and I hurry into my coat and out the door. I have to hustle to walk the mile and a half and make it on time. I cut through the parking lot and that’s when I see him.

Evan
.

My heart sputters and I freeze for a second before forcing my feet forward. How did he know where to find me?

He leans back against his car, his black hair blowing in the breeze, looking gorgeous. I hate him for that. “Julia.”

I walk past him, trying to pretend he doesn’t exist.

He strides over and blocks my path.

Reluctantly, my gaze shifts up to his anxious face. “Get out of my way, Evan.”

“
Julia, I’m sorry.”

When I try to step around him, he lifts his arms to his sides, blocking me in all directions.

I have to admit he looks pretty miserable, but I’ve been pretty miserable too. It serves him right.

“
You should have told me that sometime in the previous twenty-four hours, Evan. I don’t even know why you were so upset.”

“
I know and I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“
No.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he looks as surprised as I am by my answer. “No?”

“
No! I’m not forgiving you until you tell me the truth.
What happened?
”

He rubs his face with his hands, a now familiar habit. “It’s complicated.”

“
Yeah? Well, guess what? This isn’t.” I dart under his arm and resume walking.

“
Julia!’ He catches up in seconds, falling into step next to me.

“
I don’t have time to waste listening to you. I have twenty minutes to walk a mile and a half to the doctor’s office.”

“
Are you sick?” His voice raises in concern.

“
No.”

“
Then why—”

He tries to take my hand and I shake it off.

“
It’s none of your business.”

“
Does this have anything to do with Reece?”

I pause, spinning to face him. “What about Reece?”

His face hardens. “I know he drove you home yesterday.”

Are there no secrets at James Monroe High School? “How did you find out?”

His brows furrow when I don’t deny it. “Reece told me.”

I snort then continue walking. Stupid male testosterone.

“
So it’s true, then?”

My feet halt in their tracks. “
Seriously?
You ran out yesterday after yelling and practically accusing me of stealing my bracelet. Then you leave without any explanation and don’t call, don’t text,
nothing
, and you have the
nerve
to get upset when someone else drives me home?” My voice is shaking when I finish.

“
I know. I’m sorry. I don’t blame you for hating me. I hated myself all yesterday and today. I’m miserable without you.”

“
You still didn’t tell me what happened!
”

He grabs my hands. I try to shake them off but he holds tight. “It’s the bracelet.”

“
No kidding. What about it?”

“
Are you wearing it now?”

I hesitate before nodding. After yesterday I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to rip it off my arm.

“
Can I see it again?”

I cock my head to study him, unsure that he deserves my trust. He’s almost as pale as he was yesterday, his black coat making the contrast more severe. His eyes plead with mine and his grip on my hands feels desperate.

He knows something about this bracelet and I know nothing. Curiosity wins out. “You have to let go.” I shake my hands.

He releases his grip, defeat covering his face as he casts his gaze to the sidewalk.

He thought I meant no
. A small stab of satisfaction coats my irritation. I pull the bracelet out from under my sleeve, past my wrist and lift up my hand. It dangles from my arm. The sun pokes through the overcast sky. Light catches the flat side of the charm and its reflection is dazzling.

He stares at it, then gingerly reaches his hands up to mine, holding my wrist as though it will snap in two if he applies too much pressure. He opens the palm of his other hand, holding it under the charm and bends over to read it. When he flips it over, his expression hardens. For a moment, I worry he’ll yell or run again, but he’s anchored to the sidewalk. His blue eyes raise to mine, swimming in unshed tears.

Evan studies me, as if making a decision, his fingers dig into my wrist. Uncertainty flashes in his expression, then love. Unabashed love.

My breath catches.

“
I’m sorry.” His jaw tightens and he swallows. “I thought it belonged to someone I knew. I screwed up. I screwed everything up.”

Disappointment courses through my veins. “You don’t know anything about my bracelet?”

His gaze drops and he murmurs, “No.”

My eyelids sink closed as I take a deep breath. It was foolish to think Evan had a connection to the bracelet, but he might know something else. I gather my wits and open my eyes. “I want to see your necklace.”

His eyes widen. “I told you—”

“
You’re lying. You didn’t lose it. You hid it from me and I want to know why. It’s a Celtic love knot, isn’t it?”

His mouth twists. “Yes.”

“
Why did you hide it?”

He shifts his weight. “Because it’s weird that you’ve been drawing them for months and I have one. You already have a hard time trusting me, and I didn’t want to freak you out more.”

I study his face, trying to determine if he’s telling me the truth. “Can I see it?”

Evan hesitates, then digs into his jean pocket and pulls out a chain. I hold my hand out and he carefully places it in my palm.

It’s a silver pendant, with delicately carved, interconnecting hearts, nearly identical to the one’s I’ve been drawing. I look up into his face. “This is a girl’s necklace. Where did you get it?”

Pain flashes through his eyes. “Someone I knew.”

My voice softens. “It belonged to the girl from your story.”

He nods, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

The world is spinning as I try to piece this together. The girl he loved wore this and I’ve been drawing it since the accident. What does it mean?

Evan grabs my hand, shaking me from my musing. “Julia, I’m so sorry. I hurt you and I don’t have any right to ask this, but I’m going to do it anyway. Please give me another chance.”

Emotions take flight in my chest, all fighting for attention at the same time. Anger. Relief. Betrayal. Hope.

Be smart, Julia.

He hurt me. I should turn around and leave him in my dust, but something about him seals the door of my pain and makes me feel alive again. Being with him is like an addiction, hard to walk away from when freely offered. My resolve begins to crumble.

My face has given me away. Hope fills his eyes.

I spin from him and continue my trek. “I don’t know. I have to think about it. Right now I have to go or I’m going to be late.”

He reaches me in only a few steps. “Okay, fair enough. But let me drive you. It’s only right since I made you late.”

“
Fine, but don’t read anything into it. It’s just a ride.”

He nods. “Okay.”

Following him to his car, I stuff my hands into my coat pockets so he won’t get any ideas about holding onto to one. And to remind me not to let him. When we reach his car, he opens the door for me. I can’t help thinking about the differences between Evan and Reece, sure Evan wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.

Other than the directions I give him, we drive in silence, me with my hands still hidden in my coat, Evan with his hands on the wheel. He pulls into the medical office parking lot and turns to face me, his mouth contorting with indecision. Clearing his throat, he stares out the windshield. “Do you need a ride home?”

“
No, my mother’s picking me up.”

He shifts in his seat, griping the steering wheel. “Can I call you tonight?”

I open the door and answer as I climb out. “You can call. I’m not sure if I’ll answer.” I shut the door before he can say anything.

His car stays at the curb, probably hoping I’ll change my mind and go back and talk to him. I’m tempted. Too tempted. I turn my back to him and enter the building before I cave. I’ll talk to him. It’s simply a matter of how long I can hold out.

The waiting room in Dr. Weaver’s office is empty. I could start on my homework but alternative school is undemanding. I finished everything in class. I no longer need all the makeup assignments I’ve been working on.

An ache laps at the edges of my heart, seeping through like osmosis. I don’t need Evan to tutor me anymore.

Dr. Weaver, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and reading glasses perched on his nose, appears in the doorway to his office. “Julia, come on in.”

The room is filled with bookcases overflowing with books, upholstered furniture rather than office chairs, and plants by the window. While the environment isn’t intimidating, the idea of sharing my thoughts with a man paid to listen rankles my nerves. I sulk into the room and sink into the overstuffed chair sitting in the corner by the window.

When I first started seeing Dr. Weaver, I often spent most of the session staring out the window and not saying a word. Now, I talk more, but not by much.

Dr. Weaver sits in a chair by his desk, a file open next to him. “Julia, I’ve had some discussions with your mother regarding some of her concerns.”

Inwardly I groan, but outside I’m silent, staring out the window. The spotty clouds have filled in. The cloud shrouded sky casts a gray pallor on the world outside.

Dr. Weaver turns on a lamp. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve had a trying few weeks.”

I cross my legs and lean back into the chair. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“
Would you like to tell me about it?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that be redundant, seeing as how you already know?”

He checks over my file then takes off his reading glasses. He dangles them by their arm. “You know we’ll never make any progress until you become more cooperative.”

Suddenly, I’m mad. Mad at Dr. Weaver for wasting my time. Mad at Mom for believing the worst in me and Dad for leaving. Mad at Evan for hurting me when I’d just begun to trust him. Mad at Monica for leaving me alone, but most of all mad at me for not dying. But I say none of these things. Instead, I screw on my plastic smile. “Oh, you want me to list them?”

He lifts an eyebrow and sticks the end of his eyeglass arm in his mouth, waiting.

I turn back to the window. “Let’s see. I was failing most of my classes, got a tutor, my dad left, my mother accused me of being a slut, and I got sent to alternative school. All in all, a
very
productive week.”

“
Sarcasm won’t solve your problems.”

“
Oh!” I feign excitement. “So you’re saying if I give up sarcasm, my problems will be solved? Why didn’t you tell me that months ago?”

I hate the way I talk to him. He’s a nice man, but he’s the only person I can vent my pain and anguish on without repercussion. Even if he doesn’t realize it, I always feel better when I leave.

We sit in silence, my pot of anger and resentment simmering to a boil.

“
Tell me about the boys you’ve been seeing.”

I laugh, but it’s derisive and grates my own nerves. “There’s nothing to tell. Evan was my tutor, but now I don’t need a tutor anymore. That settles that. The other
boy
is Reece. I only met him yesterday. He took pity on me and my huge pile of books and offered me a ride home. End of story.”

“
I’m sure the absence of your father is bound to be hard on you, the loss of a supportive male figure in your life.”

“
First of all, you and I both know my father hasn’t been a supportive male figure for months. Second, Evan and Reece don’t have anything to do with him.”

The rest of the session I refuse to talk about Evan. Even if I wanted to, I don’t know what to say. I haven’t sorted him out yet myself. Dr. Weaver reminds me that with all the turmoil in my life, now isn’t a good time to make important life choices, like boyfriends.

This is the funniest thing I’ve heard in days.

When my time is up, Mom’s sitting in the waiting room. She looks up from her outdated magazine, her gaze shifting from me to the psychologist standing in the doorway. I move to the hall while she and Dr. Weaver talk. I’m always invited to listen to their conversation, but I don’t care what they have to say.

When she’s finished, we walk to the car in silence. We’re halfway home before she finally speaks. “How was your appointment?”

I slump into the car door, looking out the side window. “Fine.”

“
Tell me about your first day at your new school.”

“
It was great. I got to be calendar person and Suzy shared her cookie at snack time.”