“I know,” he said in a low voice. “I’m not angry that you didn’t tell me. Not anymore.”
“Really?” she said hopefully. “Then we’re okay?”
He sighed. “No.”
Her heart seemed to stop. “What? What do you mean?”
He wouldn’t meet her gaze. His eyes seemed fixed on some point over her left shoulder. “I can’t do this. I can’t deal with the way people talk about us. About me.”
“You mean the assholes on the Internet? You can’t listen to them. You told me that yourself.”
He shook his head. “Not only them. People at school. Everywhere.” He finally looked at her, and he was wrecked. There was pain in his eyes, desperation in the set of his mouth. He took a step closer, lowering his voice into an intense whisper. “Those photos made you look like a cheater, but they made me look like an idiot. And I know you have feelings for her. Even if you didn’t kiss her last Saturday, you kissed her before. I
She flinched. “I’m sorry,” she said again, and it sounded ridiculously inadequate—like attempting to apply a Band-Aid over a chest wound.
“I can’t compete with her.” David rubbed a hand over his face and pushed his damp hair back. “I don’t want to. I shouldn’t have to.”
“You’re not competing with her,” she insisted. It came out sounding like a shriek. She moderated her voice. “I want to be with
“Yeah, you keep saying that, but you have feelings for her too.” His jaw clenched.
Heat flushed her body, and suddenly she was angry—angry at herself, angry at David, angry at Amber. “Why can’t you hear me? I have feelings for
David’s cheeks darkened. “Reese…”
“Shouldn’t the way I feel about you be more important than what other people think?” She reached for his hands. He was a mess of conflicting emotions: anguish and hope and brittle self-doubt. She had never felt him like that before, his conscious self sharp as crystal.
“You’re in love with her too,” he said softly. “It’s not okay with me.”
She felt like she was about to fall off a tightrope. “Are you breaking up with me?” she asked in a small voice.
He looked somewhat startled. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
She pulled away from him, backing up until she hit the wall, the cinder blocks cool against her sweaty palms. She was dizzy. Everything felt unreal: the glare of the fluorescent overhead lights, the shadows they cast over David’s face, the dark doorway to the boys’ locker room down the hall.
His cleats clicked on the floor as he shifted in place. “It’s not like I don’t ever want to see you again. We have to do this—this thing on Saturday. We have to talk about all that. But maybe we should take a couple of days to think about how to handle it. Okay?”
The idea of having to continue their charade with Mr. Hernandez, of taking more lessons with Eres Tilhar, of being with David when she wasn’t
“I know we can still be friends,” he was saying. “Can’t we go back to that?”
She was about to start crying at any second. “Yeah,” she choked out. “Of course.” And then she turned so he wouldn’t see the tears spill from her eyes, and picked up her backpack and slung it awkwardly over one shoulder. She tried not to stumble as she walked away. He didn’t call her back.
She pushed through the front doors of the school half-blinded by tears. She was assaulted by flashbulbs as the door slammed shut behind her.
She recoiled in shock, having forgotten that the photographers would be out there. But there were more than photographers; there were protesters. They shouted at her, their voices rising in a barrage of demands, and she remembered at that instant that she was supposed to wait inside the school for her mom’s phone call. She backed away and reached for the door handle, but it wouldn’t open. She tugged at it, but it didn’t budge. She turned her back to the crowd and tried the other door. It was locked too.
Of course. The school doors were locked after 5:00 PM. She banged on the door frantically as the shouts of the protesters rose, but nobody came. Could they not hear her?
She turned around slowly. Down on the sidewalk, police barricades kept the people back on two sides. Paparazzi were jammed in at the front. On the right were demonstrators she vaguely recognized from the pier: men and women holding signs about the new world order. New signs had been added too, and as she read the words her stomach seemed to shrink into a tight fist.
TRAITOR.
HUMAN RACE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU?
HOMOSEXUALS ARE POSSESSED BY ALIENS!
GOD HATES FAGS. FAGS = IMRIA. GOD HATES IMRIA.
On the left side were the Imria supporters with their WELCOME TO EARTH signs, but a new group had joined them. They waved rainbow flags and carried signs that declared GAY RIGHTS DON’T STOP WITH HUMANITY. One was done up with glitter and neon paint and stated ALIENS ARE FABULOUS!
Reese’s phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket in relief. “Mom, are you here?”
“I’m across the street by the cafe. I can’t turn. There’s too much police presence. Where are you?”
“I’m on the school steps. I’ll come to you.” She hung up and repocketed her phone before heading down the steps. As she approached the two mobs of demonstrators their chants grew louder, but she kept her gaze straight ahead, not looking directly at anyone. She focused on herself, pushing back the waves of ferocity on the right and the pressure of curiosity on the left. She was on the sidewalk now. She only had to cross the street, passing the police who were watching her with expressionless eyes. Her mom was barely a block away, but getting to the Prius felt like navigating through a mile-long obstacle course. By the time she reached the car and slid inside, she was wired and breathless.
“Are you okay?” her mom asked, pulling the car around the corner onto Eighteenth Street.
“Yeah,” she said, still clutching her backpack. “Some of those people are crazy.”
“You can’t pay any attention to what those homophobes are saying,” her mom said grimly. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing.”
Reese glanced at her mom in surprise. When they had parted that morning, they hadn’t been on the best of terms; Reese knew her mom was still mad at her about the argument she’d had with her dad. Her mom’s apparent change of heart startled a question out of her that she hadn’t even known she wanted to ask. “You don’t think I’m a freak for dating an alien?”
Her mom shook her head decisively. “No, honey. I don’t.” Her mom pulled the car to a stop at the red light and turned to her, squeezing her knee. “You’re not a freak. You’re my daughter and I love you.”
Reese hugged her backpack closer, trying to swallow the tears that kept pricking at her eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”
Her mom sighed and turned back to the street. “But you’re still grounded for what you said to your dad.”
CHAPTER 26
Given the fact that David had just dumped her and paparazzi kept tailing her, Reese decided that being
