“I do love you,” I said, searching for the balance of honesty and kindness. “Just . . . not that way.”
“No, you save that for Simon. What else are you saving for him? Or did you already give it up?”
“Stop it!” I shoved him, hard.
His mouth snapped shut, and he drew a long, shaky breath. We stared at each other in silence, my chest hollow and aching as if my heart had been knocked out.
Finally he spoke, voice harsh. “Those girls are a game to him. They’re conquests, and now you’re one of them. I hope it was good.”
“He’s not like that.” My own temper reared up then, much more satisfying to hang on to than the guilt and hurt bleeding through me. “And so what if I did sleep with him? It doesn’t make me less. It doesn’t mean I’m damaged.”
“I have been in love with you since first grade,” he said, breath coming fast and shallow. “When you threw up on Tommy Bradshaw’s shoes after he stole my lunch money. More than half my life. I thought if I waited . . . but you won’t even give us a shot, because Simon Lane has some crazy hold over you.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen. Any of it.”
“You never do.” I flinched, but he kept talking. “He’s going to make you miserable. He’s going to treat you like one of those girls. I won’t fix it. I won’t fix you. Not this time.”
“I never asked you to.” It was like running toward a cliff full tilt and skidding to a stop at the edge, fighting momentum to keep from plunging over into nothingness. I needed to slow us down. To make Eliot see reason. I grabbed for his hand, but he evaded me. I tried again. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about Simon, but I was afraid.”
“You were afraid I’d stop you. Like I could. You don’t listen to anyone else. You don’t think about anyone else. You don’t think about the consequences. You care about yourself, and that’s it.”
I was used to disappointing my family. I didn’t care what my teachers thought. But this was Eliot, hurting and hurtful, and my already-battered heart was breaking into pieces at the sight. I’d done this to him. Useless to cry, I reminded myself, and swiped a hand over my eyes. “Fine. I’m a bitch. But I’m right, too. The anomaly my parents have been looking for is related to Simon. We have to do something.”
He looked at me like I was a stranger. “The only thing you need to do is leave.”
“Don’t make this about us. Please.”
“It’s about you, Del. Same as always. But I’m not interested.” He made a sound like a laugh, only strangled and horrible. “Now you know how it feels.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
ELIOT AVOIDED ME at school all morning, so I wasn’t surprised when he was a no-show at lunch. I sat at our usual table anyway, endlessly twisting the metal tab on my Coke. I was as selfish and self-centered as he’d said. For years, he’d dropped hints but I’d ignored them or laughed them off because they’d made me uncomfortable. Because he was my dearest friend, but only a friend, and telling him so might have ruined us.
Now we were beyond ruined. I didn’t know how to make it up to him. The one thing he wanted was impossible for me to give.
People milled around the cafeteria, and I watched as they made choice after choice, world after world, ignorant of the weight their decisions carried. I didn’t know whether to envy them or feel sorry for them. Could I have chosen differently? Eliot and I made a great team, but I’d never thought of him that way. He’d never made my heart skip and my head swim the way Simon did.
But I could have been honest.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to relieve the aching behind them, and took a shuddering breath.
“Missed you this morning.” Simon’s voice came from overhead. “I thought maybe you’d disappeared.”
I opened my eyes, my pulse kicking up at the sight of him. “Right here,” I said, smiling despite myself.
He dragged a chair over and straddled it, folding his arms over the back, all easy confidence and long limbs. “Are we good?”
When I nodded, he surveyed the table, empty except for my can of pop. “This is not a proper lunch.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Guess not. Where’s Eliot?”
I couldn’t get the words out, but he must have understood, because he stood up and tugged at my hand. “Come on.”
“You wanted to sit with the jocks?” I eyed the table brimming with letter jackets and school spirit.
“Another time. Today you need a break.”
We’d gone only a few feet when Bree stopped us.
“Hey, stranger.” She gave Simon a friendly push, but her smile was strained. “Duncan wants to talk to you about some sports boosters fund-raiser. Got a minute?”
Simon’s hand tightened on mine. “Not right now. Sorry.”
“But I saved you a seat,” she said, a plaintive note to her voice.
“Give it to someone else,” he said gently, and led me away without waiting for her response.
I blinked. “You didn’t need to—”
“Yeah, I did.”
I felt the stares as he led me through the maze of tables and out the side doors, but Simon didn’t seem to care. What must it be like to be so sure of yourself and your place in the world? I’d thought I had that, once, but my certainty had unraveled weeks ago.
“Where are we going?”
“Equipment room,” he said. “Nobody’s in there this time of day.”
I stopped short and gave him a dubious look.
“It’s the only place in the building where we don’t need a hall pass. I’m in there all the time for team stuff, and since I’m captain . . .” He reached into his pocket. “I’ve got a key.”
He looked so pleased with himself I decided not to mention I didn’t need a key.
“How’d you end up as captain when you’re only a junior?” I asked. “Isn’t it usually for seniors?”
“My cocaptain’s a senior,” he said, and pointed at the trophy case nearby. “But I was on varsity last year, and we won State, so . . .”
He kept talking, but something in the display caught my attention. I eased closer, nodding as if I were listening.
One of the net-draped trophies winked out of existence, replaced by a smaller, far less showy one. In an instant they swapped again, and everything looked exactly the way it should.
Another inversion in the Key World. Another one connected to Simon.
“I just remembered,” I said, smacking my forehead. “I have to turn in a library book.”
“Now?”
“It’s way late. Fines in the double digits, and the librarian’s threatening me with another detention.” I shooed him off. “You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”
The frown cleared. “Del, chill out. I wasn’t going to put the moves on you. At least, not a lot.”
“I’m looking forward to your moves. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”
Easy enough to say I got caught without a hall pass, or that the librarian had made me shelve books as a way to pay off my fine. I’d come up with a story, but for now, I needed to get rid of him.
Reluctantly he let go of my hand. “Go on,” I said, shoving at him. I made a show of heading in the opposite direction, toward my locker, glancing back to check his progress.
Once he was safely out of sight, I raced back, shielding the trophy with my body. My pulse drummed in my ears as I pulled out the lock picks and got to work. With any luck, the few passersby would think I’d suddenly become a basketball fan.
As soon as the lobby was empty, I shoved the panel of glass aside and reached for the blinking net, listening for its shifting pitch.