“Yeah, but it’s a requirement.” Iris patted my back. “Let’s go ask him. Just so you know.”
I didn’t want to ask, but I did want to know. Iris pulled me and I pulled my backpack, scrapping along the floor. Mr. Warner’s classroom was empty, except for him. He sat at his desk with his condescending mustache and combover. It wasn’t pretty. He was in a perpetual state of denial about his age.
“Mr. Warner?” Iris asked his name, knowing he liked the flirtatious tone in her voice. She smiled sweetly. “Cami was so nervous about today’s test. Is there any way you can see if she passed?”
Mr. Warner’s dull blue eyes flashed to me before he nodded. He tapped away on his computer then frowned. “I don’t even show that she took it. That’s odd.”
“What?” I screeched.
“Now hold on. I know you took the test, but it’s not registering in the computer.” He clicked and typed again. “Nope. Did you save it?”
“Of course, I...” Didn’t I? I was sure I did, but I couldn’t remember. “I had to have.”
He nodded. “It’s okay, Cameron. We can retake it right now.” He handed over a Chrome book and motioned to the seats. “Go ahead. I can wait.”
I swallowed hard as I took the computer and sat in the front seat. Taking it once sucked. Taking it a second time, that sucked on a whole new level.
Shit. Dylan.
“Iris,” I said before I logged on. “Can you find Dylan in the parking lot? He’s picking me up.”
She nodded, but I could read her expression and it said, “Really? Dylan Walker is picking you up from school and you didn’t think to tell me? You’re gonna pay for this one, Harris.” She hurried out the door and I opened the lid.
“Cameron?” Mr. Warner said.
I glanced up at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. “Yes, sir.”
“I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friend, but I found your test. It wasn’t... good.” His eyes bore into mine suddenly. “I accidentally deleted it.”
I swallowed hard. This wasn’t good. What the hell did he want from me?
“Do better.”
That was it? Nothing else? I waited for a split second, but he didn’t say anything more. Shaking my head, I logged in and started the test again.
The sun never felt better against my skin. I stepped out of the school, feeling the euphoria of being almost done. Mr. Warner pulled up my test after I finished it an hour later. The computer graded it as a D. He double checked it, asked me a couple of questions verbally. It brought my grade up to a C-. I was going to graduate on time.
Dylan leaned against his car, talking to Miranda. They stopped as I approached.
“Well?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“Sorry, I—”
“Iris told us,” Miranda said. She widened her eyes. “What happened?”
“I passed.” I sighed and the relief really poured out of me. “I’d failed it and he erased the test so I took it again. And I passed. I’m going to graduate.”
Miranda squealed and pulled me into a hug. “That’s great.”
“Yeah,” Dylan said. He offered me a fist bump, which I obliged. At least he didn’t explode the stupid thing. “That’s great. Let’s go celebrate then we have rehearsal.” He opened his door and smiled at Miranda. “See you later, Rand.”
Miranda giggled and batted her eyelashes. “Definitely.”
It shouldn’t have pissed me off, but it did. I rolled my eyes and walked around the other side of the car, climbing in. Dylan typed something into Miranda’s phone before joining me inside.
“Where to?” he asked with a goofy grin on his face.
“You know she’s only seventeen, right? Aren’t you twenty-one?” I snapped. A groan rumbled in my chest. I really needed a filter. Especially at times like this.
“Yes, I know. And harmless flirting isn’t against the law.” He pulled onto the street and headed toward my house. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Then why give her your number?” I wasn’t about to let it go even though my subconscious kept screaming at me to drop it.
Dylan laughed. “Is that what you thought we were doing?” He shook his head, his hair flopping over his forehead. “I gave her Pamela’s number to get your teacher comped seats for this weekend’s show. She was going to have her dad do it, but I thought Pamela could get a couple of Hank’s instead. He’s got six front row seats, plus he has control over the backstage passes.”
“Oh, that was... nice.” I guess. Mr. Warner hadn’t asked for anything, which had surprised me at the time.
“I’m not an asshole, you know. Despite what you might’ve overheard from dear old Dad.” Dylan’s eyes narrowed. He drove with his wrist over the steering wheel as he leaned against the driver’s door. “Anyway, you never told me where to go.”
“Home,” I said, my heart sinking again. He’d seen the outside, now he’d have to see the inside. If he was going to be my mentor, maybe even my friend, he’d have to get used to the life I lived. I didn’t relish the idea, but there was no reason to hide who I was. “I have to get dinner in the oven and laundry going.”
“Can I ask a question without offending you?”
“I guess.”
“What about your mom? Doesn’t she do that? Or your dad?” He asked it gently, knowing he was walking a fine line.
“Dad ... can’t.” I didn’t want his pity. Every time I told someone outside of my world about Dad’s stroke, they always gave me the poor-little-girl look. “Mom’s the assistant manager at a local restaurant. She works most nights, sometimes ten to twelve hour shifts. My younger brother’s a wannabe thug and pretty useless. So, no, there isn’t anyone else who can do it.”
“What about when you leave?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. It was
