Remember Me by Romily Bernard

tries to hang around the popular kids. I don’t think many of them actually like him.
    â€œYou working on the report too?” I ask.
    â€œAlready finished it.” He nods in his dad’s direction, a fringe of dark hair falling across his forehead. “Kind of the family business.”
    Yeah, no shit. But I smile like that’s a brilliant observation on Ian’s part and that makes Ian smile wider.
    â€œSo I’ve been seeing you around more, Wick.”
    Huh? I’ve been around. Ian and I have attended the same schools for the past five years. I watched him lose his mom to cancer, heard about his dad getting remarried, and his older brother, Kyle, running off with some chick. I know about him the way everyone around Peachtree City knows about him . . . and me, I guess. There are rumors. People talk. But dead moms and dysfunctional families are everyday news. It’s Ian’s dad who makes it special, makes him special. Anyway, it’s highly unlikely he hasn’t seen me.
    Then I notice the way Ian’s eyes inch over my hair. Usually, it’s purple or pink or, more recently, Kool-Aid red. Right now it’s blond.
    Like the girls I see him following around at school.
    Suddenly, the way Ian was staring at me last night and the way he’s staring at me right now start to make sense.
    Can I throw up?
    I try to scoot sideways, run into the end of the bench. “I guess I’ve been getting out more.”
    â€œYeah, must be hard going around town with your mom and all.”
    I stiffen. My mom. This time, the word means Bren. “Why would it be hard?”
    â€œWell, you know, because of . . .” Ian lifts one shoulder, eyes rolling in his head because I’m supposed to get the implication and play along.
    And I’m not.
    â€œNo, I don’t know.” I stuff my laptop into my bag, tug the strap onto my shoulder. I want a copy of that Remember Me email, but not enough to risk it with the judge’s kid sitting next to me. “Bren has nothing to hide.”
    Ian blinks. “Oh, yeah, agreed. I mean, of course. I wasn’t saying—”
    Yes, you were. I edge around him, make my way to the rear of the courtroom and head for the parking lot exit. I’m barely into the hallway though before Ian’s stepping on my heels.
    â€œLook, Wick, sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.” He grabs my elbow and I round on him, fist clenched. Ian shies away, shrinking into the wall, and, to my right and left, people start to stare.
    Dammit.
    â€œDon’t grab me,” I whisper.
    â€œBecause of . . . ?”
    My mouth drops open. Because of Todd? I’m suddenly sorry I didn’t punch Ian right in the ear. “Because it’s rude.”
    And yes, because of Todd.
    â€œOh. Right. Sorry.” Ian’s cheeks go My Little Pony pink, and even though I’m irritated with him, I start to feel bad. It’s not like he’s a threat. We probably wear the same jeans size. Besides, most people probably wouldn’t have a problem with their elbow getting touched.
    Which, technically, makes me the freak.
    Sigh. I need to apologize.
    â€œLook,” Ian says. “I wanted to ask if we could partner on that computer lab project.”
    â€œYou’re not in my class.”
    â€œI know. I’m in Mrs. Lowe’s fifth period. She’s okay with it if you’re okay with it.”
    I stifle a groan. Why the hell would our teacher say that? No way do I want team up with Ian Bay. Not only is there the whole I’m investigating his dad thing, there’s also the problem that two geeks are easier to target than one.
    I fly under the radar at school, avoiding anyone who might toss me in the Dumpster (don’t ask). Ian tries to fit in. He follows the popular kids around, hoping they’ll eventually warm to him. It should disgust me, the way he begs for their attention,