explains, “If you cut with the vein, you’re serious. Cut against it, you bleed a lot, but the slit isn’t big enough for actual death.”
“Aha.”
“That’s basically why I think she didn’t really mean to do the deed. She just needed some drama for herself.”
I glance over at Ella. I’ve never heard her be bitchy before. “What do you mean?”
“No, just in that family, it was all about Eamonn. It had to be. So I just wondered if she did it to get—” She shakes her head. “Never mind.”
Maybe, I think, Cassandra really loved the guy. Maybe she wasn’t okay with being played with and tossed away.
Maybe I do need to talk to Oliver.
Tuesday morning, I place Mimi in the calm, warm center of the windowsill. I move all the other figurines away from her. This is something she has to do on her own.
I take Dallas and place him near Mimi. To keep it real, I put him with his back to her.
Dallas the rabbit. Super shy, but somehow has his fun. That’s good for Oliver.
In school land, Oliver is very into peace. Conflict resolution. Solving the world’s problems. What I don’t know is how good he is at these things in real life.
People believe Chloe’s story of Oliver being drunk and confused when we hooked up because Chloe wants them to and people do what Chloe wants. But also because Oliver’s an innocent. He doesn’t quite get real life; it freaks him out.
They also believe it because Oliver isn’t telling them anything different. Who knows, maybe he’s even talked himself into believing that I’m some man-hungry beast who took advantage of him.
So I have to remind him otherwise—and get him to understand that you are not a nice guy if you let one person take the rap for something you both did.
At registration, I overheard Oliver setting up a special history tutorial with Mr. Greenaway for Monday lunchtime. So I have a pretty good idea of how to find him.
As I wait for Oliver to come out of Mr. Greenaway’s office, I lean against the wall, rocking back and forth on my feet. I take deep breath after deep breath. When he appears, I want to be completely in control. I am not here because I like him. I am here because his girlfriend is being a bitch lunatic and it has to stop.
The door opens. I can see Oliver inside.
He says, “Okay, I’ll work on that,” to Mr. Greenaway, then shuts the door behind him. He keeps his gaze away from me.
He starts walking down the hall. I say, “Oliver.”
Big exaggerated double take. “Oh, hey,” he says, lifting a bony hand.
I try to see the boy who walked me home. The boy I liked.
I see Chloe Nachmias’s scared, guilty boyfriend.
“How was registration?” he asks, keeping it safe. “Did you get the classes you wanted?”
“It went fine. Um—are you set for your Amnesty interview?” I hate myself for playing his game.
He nods anxiously. “It’s next week. I was actually just talking to Mr. Greenaway about it. I really freeze up if I have to talk under pressure. Like I get all”—he makes
eee, eee
sounds. “So he gave me some vocal exercises.”
I nod: Cool, whatever.
Then, slapping my hand against my book bag, I say, “Look, Oliver, I’m here because I need a favor.”
He starts shifting from foot to foot. “What?”
“Chloe.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think we should talk about—”
Desperate, I say, “I’m not here to bash her. You just need to tell her to back off. Okay? That’s all I want.”
He frowns. “What do you mean ‘back off’?”
I feel a flash of annoyance: he doesn’t even know what Chloe’s been doing—or he doesn’t want to know.
“I get that she’s upset,” I say carefully. “But she’s been … letting me know she’s upset. In kind of nasty ways.”
What I want is shock, anger, an instant
I will deal with this, don’t worry
.
What I get is suspicion.
“How do you mean ‘nasty’?”
“Just … texts and phone calls. I mean, it’s silly, yeah, but …”
He shakes
“Aha.”
“That’s basically why I think she didn’t really mean to do the deed. She just needed some drama for herself.”
I glance over at Ella. I’ve never heard her be bitchy before. “What do you mean?”
“No, just in that family, it was all about Eamonn. It had to be. So I just wondered if she did it to get—” She shakes her head. “Never mind.”
Maybe, I think, Cassandra really loved the guy. Maybe she wasn’t okay with being played with and tossed away.
Maybe I do need to talk to Oliver.
Tuesday morning, I place Mimi in the calm, warm center of the windowsill. I move all the other figurines away from her. This is something she has to do on her own.
I take Dallas and place him near Mimi. To keep it real, I put him with his back to her.
Dallas the rabbit. Super shy, but somehow has his fun. That’s good for Oliver.
In school land, Oliver is very into peace. Conflict resolution. Solving the world’s problems. What I don’t know is how good he is at these things in real life.
People believe Chloe’s story of Oliver being drunk and confused when we hooked up because Chloe wants them to and people do what Chloe wants. But also because Oliver’s an innocent. He doesn’t quite get real life; it freaks him out.
They also believe it because Oliver isn’t telling them anything different. Who knows, maybe he’s even talked himself into believing that I’m some man-hungry beast who took advantage of him.
So I have to remind him otherwise—and get him to understand that you are not a nice guy if you let one person take the rap for something you both did.
At registration, I overheard Oliver setting up a special history tutorial with Mr. Greenaway for Monday lunchtime. So I have a pretty good idea of how to find him.
As I wait for Oliver to come out of Mr. Greenaway’s office, I lean against the wall, rocking back and forth on my feet. I take deep breath after deep breath. When he appears, I want to be completely in control. I am not here because I like him. I am here because his girlfriend is being a bitch lunatic and it has to stop.
The door opens. I can see Oliver inside.
He says, “Okay, I’ll work on that,” to Mr. Greenaway, then shuts the door behind him. He keeps his gaze away from me.
He starts walking down the hall. I say, “Oliver.”
Big exaggerated double take. “Oh, hey,” he says, lifting a bony hand.
I try to see the boy who walked me home. The boy I liked.
I see Chloe Nachmias’s scared, guilty boyfriend.
“How was registration?” he asks, keeping it safe. “Did you get the classes you wanted?”
“It went fine. Um—are you set for your Amnesty interview?” I hate myself for playing his game.
He nods anxiously. “It’s next week. I was actually just talking to Mr. Greenaway about it. I really freeze up if I have to talk under pressure. Like I get all”—he makes
eee, eee
sounds. “So he gave me some vocal exercises.”
I nod: Cool, whatever.
Then, slapping my hand against my book bag, I say, “Look, Oliver, I’m here because I need a favor.”
He starts shifting from foot to foot. “What?”
“Chloe.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think we should talk about—”
Desperate, I say, “I’m not here to bash her. You just need to tell her to back off. Okay? That’s all I want.”
He frowns. “What do you mean ‘back off’?”
I feel a flash of annoyance: he doesn’t even know what Chloe’s been doing—or he doesn’t want to know.
“I get that she’s upset,” I say carefully. “But she’s been … letting me know she’s upset. In kind of nasty ways.”
What I want is shock, anger, an instant
I will deal with this, don’t worry
.
What I get is suspicion.
“How do you mean ‘nasty’?”
“Just … texts and phone calls. I mean, it’s silly, yeah, but …”
He shakes
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