“I said, in simple terms … but, yeah.”
Defiance flashed in her eyes. “I’m not going to say I love it when it rains, that ugly people are beautiful, or that I like your T-shirt.”
“What’s wrong with my shirt?” I demanded.
She ignored me. “I just won’t. I’ve spent too many years lying already.” Her expression held a darkness I’d never seen before … until today.
I recalled the way she’d frozen when her mother had appeared outside and felt my anger soften. “Look, you don’t have to lie. In fact, you can’t. It has to be genuine, remember?”
She jerked her head in a nod.
“Now, you said something not nice about my shirt. So say something nice instead.”
She arched her eyebrow. “About that shirt? Impossible.”
I sighed. “Fine. It’s your fate. If you want to spend the rest of your time—”
“You have nice teeth,” she blurted out.
I stared at her.
She lifted a shoulder. “What, I have a thing for white, even teeth, okay? It’s not a big deal,” she said, shifting her arms across her chest.
“Nice teeth,” I repeated slowly.
“I would have said you had a nice smile, if I’d ever seen it to know,” she snapped, and I couldn’t help it, I started to laugh.
“It’s not that funny,” she muttered when I doubled over, my sides aching. She was right. It wasn’t that funny, but it was that last bit of ridiculousness that broke through the tension I’d been carrying around inside of me since yesterday.
“Straight and white teeth are a sign of good health,” she persisted. “They can be a very attractive feature.” Her mouth started to curve into a reluctant smile.
“Ask you to say something nice,” I gasped, “and you picked the smallest, most insignificant—”
“It’s not insignificant to me.” She strode forward and gave me a gentle push on the shoulder, but she was smiling at least. “Dental hygiene is very important. Who wants to kiss a mouth full of yucky yellow teeth?” She shuddered.
It took a second for her words to sink in. “Who said anything about kissing?” I tried to sound casual while my heart thundered in my chest. Like I said, every guy has his fantasy, and for better or worse, since the sixth grade, mine had always centered on Alona Dare.
She rolled her eyes. “Please. I meant it metaphorically. Besides, how are
Stung, I stiffened my shoulders. “I’ve never had any complaints. I’m a good—”
She kept talking like I hadn’t said anything at all. “You’d look like a loon. Your head all tilted, tongue sticking out.” She threw her hands up in the air, like she was holding on to someone’s neck, closed her eyes, tilted her head dramatically, and waggled her tongue around outside her mouth.
I snorted. She looked ridiculous, and she had a point.
She stopped and opened her eyes. “So you do have a sense of humor. Never would have guessed that.” Her gaze shifted to something behind me. She cocked her head sideways. “You’re going to need it, too. Trouble at ten o’clock.”
I turned to my left about a quarter turn and saw nothing but the football field.
“No,” she said impatiently. “Ten. Ten o’clock.” She pulled my shoulders and yanked me around to the right.
“That’s two o’clock.”
“For you, yeah! I meant ten o’clock … whatever. Just look.” She raked her hand through her hair impatiently.
“Time passes clockwise here in this universe….” I trailed off, seeing Principal Brewster approaching, his shiny shoes crunching in the gravel and raising clouds of dust. “Oh, crap.”
“Now, just listen to me,” Alona said.
“I’m not going to suck up to him,” I snapped.
She put her hands on her hips. “Who said anything about sucking up? I’m protecting my own interests here. So just listen.” She took a deep breath. “He wants you to say something stupid. Just like the cops want to catch you speeding.”
“Hey, I have an uncle who’s a cop,” I protested.
“It doesn’t matter. You know what I mean. They have quotas they have to meet. Brewster has a reputation to maintain as a hard-ass. If you give him the opportunity, he’ll use you to do it. So just”—she shrugged—“don’t give in.”
“That’s your advice?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” she smirked. “This is. Be nice.”
I stared at her. “What?”
“Be nice.”
“Oh, no.”
“What? It works for me but not for you?” she demanded.
“It’s not the same, at all.”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have a lot of choices here. Just try it.” She folded her arms over her chest and stepped back as Brewster approached.
“Good morning, Principal Brewster,” I said through gritted teeth.
He stopped short, his dress shoes sliding in the gravel, and stared at me. Probably because it was the first time I’d ever voluntarily spoken to him. “Mr. Killian. What are you doing out here?”
“No sarcasm,” she whispered urgently in my ear, “and say ‘sir.’ He totally gets off on that.”
I turned away from Brewster and faked a loud cough to cover my words to Alona. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because he’d get even more pleasure from kicking you out,” she pointed out.
I took a deep breath and turned back to face him. “Sorry, sir. I overslept, and then I had to finish a phone call.” I gave him my best sunny smile and held up my cell phone.
“Not a bad start,” Alona said. “Now don’t blow it.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Brewster’s face. He couldn’t tell whether I was being serious or not. “No loitering. Classes started forty-five minutes ago. You’re either in or you’re out.”
“I do apologize for my tardiness,” I said, with a little more edge than I intended. I couldn’t help it, the guy just set me off.
“Careful,” Alona murmured near my ear. She was so close I could feel her T-shirt brushing my arm. Not an unpleasant experience.
I pulled a folded-up square of paper from my pocket. “Here’s a note from my mom, excusing my absence yesterday.”
Brewster snapped the paper from my hand, his brows furrowing. “Surprise, surprise. A mama’s note for a mama’s boy.”
I stepped toward him, my hands clenching into fists.
“Uh-uh,” Alona said, placing one cool hand on my upper arm. “See what he’s doing? He’s pushing a button he knows you’ll react to. Look at his eyes.”
With a grimace, I looked up and met Brewster’s gaze. His dark eyes shone with amusement and eagerness. He was playing a game.
“He wins if you react,” she said. “Haven’t you ever had a parent pull this kind of crap on you?”
No, I hadn’t. My mother, emotional and overwrought as she could be, could never direct her emotions in such a manipulative manner, and my dad … well, he had too much going on as it was to mess with my mind. But it certainly gave me even more insight into Alona’s home life. Scary.
“Very well, Mr. Killian. We’re honored you could join us once again today.” Brewster leaned in a little closer. “You will, however, serve two days of in-school suspension under my supervision for your attitude and mouthing off
