“You’re the best.” He flashes a grin. But then his face falls. “He’s coming over here. Save me!”
“Sorry, dude. I gotta go to detention.”
“What I wouldn’t give for a DT. Ugh, I don’t know how to handle this!” His face goes from dread to fake smile. “Heeeeyyyy,” he says as the guy sits next to him.
I duck out. I feel bad abandoning him, but I don’t want to get in even more trouble.
Detention turns out to be a nice change of pace. It’s quiet, just six or seven of us delinquents sitting at desks, no talking, no phones. We’re allowed to do homework or read.
I never realized how tense I am in the cafeteria. I guess it’s ’cause of the massive number of people in there. This is a million times better.
I wonder if I could get lunch DT every day. And if Griffey could too. That’d be sweet.
I spend most of the time drawing a silly picture of Chewbarka. When the bell rings and I get my phone back, I text it to Daniel as I’m hurrying to history. In the flow of kids, right before I reach my classroom, I get a response. It’s an adorable photo of Chewbarka in the tent. She’s looking at the camera with her head tilted as if she’s hearing a high-pitched noise. I zoom in and look at her cute tongue-blep.
“Hey,” a girl says right behind me. “You. With the purple hair.”
I turn and see a face I know only from Instagram. “Bella?”
“Why is my dog on your phone? And how do you know my name?”
Oh crap. “Um, what? This is my friend’s dog.”
“Bull. It was Chewy. I know that white splotch on her head. And her tongue was sticking out.” She reaches for my phone.
I pocket it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then why are you hiding your phone? If that’s really your friend’s dog, prove it. Let me see the photo.”
Panic mode. Zero words come out of my mouth.
Bella’s eyes go wide. “No way.” She half shakes her head like she can’t believe it. Then her face darkens like she’s about to haul off and deck me. “Explain. Now.”
“Um—”
“Is she alive?”
I bite my lip and hug my ribs.
“Do you have her? Is she hurt? My dad said she got hit by a car. Did you find her?” Her blue eyes fill with angry tears. “Answer me! Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.” I press my back into the wall next to the history room door. I suddenly feel how I felt at Bailey Middle. Small, vulnerable. Afraid.
“Then how do you have her photo on your phone?”
The only action between my ears is fear. “Um—your dad, um, brought her to the vet to be put to sleep. But it sort of didn’t go as planned?”
Bella’s face goes through a million emotions before landing on a mix of rage and hope. “What the actual—” Her eyes dig into me like she’s going after all my secrets. “Where is she?”
“Um—someone I know is taking care of her.”
She steps close. Like really close. “Who? Where?”
“A friend.” No way am I telling her.
“What friend?” She leans even closer, her face almost touching mine. “What friend?!”
The bell rings. I edge away and duck into my history classroom.
She follows me in. “What friend!” she yells.
Ms. Jenkins looks at us. “Ash, you’re cutting it a little close to the bell,” she says. “And Miss McBrenner, this is seventh period, not third. Or did you not get enough of the Civil War this morning?”
“Ash what?” Bella demands. “What’s your last name?”
Someone in the front row says “Haley” just as someone else makes a fart sound. Bella blinks like she’s coming out of a trance. She gives me a narrow-eyed look like I’m gonna get what I want. She turns and leaves.
I sink into my desk, glad to be off my shaking legs.
Daniel’s a mess in photography. We’re supposed to write a plan for what we’re going to photograph with our pinhole cameras and why and how long the exposure will be, but he keeps glancing at Fiona, who seems mad at him, and then staring off into space. He barely meets my eyes. Which is good, because I’m having a hard time looking at him, thinking of how betrayed he’s going to feel when he finds out I accidentally told Bella her dog’s alive.
When our writing time is up, Ms. Bernstein tells us to share our plans with our table while she walks around and listens in.
Fiona reads hers out with her voice and shoulders all stiff. Daniel tries to compliment her, but she gives him a frosty stare. I have no idea what’s going on. Braden tells us about the shop-room band saw he’s gonna photograph, making it sound like it’s stupid to photograph anything that’s not a power tool. Ms. Bernstein comes over as it’s Daniel’s turn to share. He tries to read what he wrote, but struggles to read his own messy handwriting.
Ms. Bernstein tells him his plan needs work. He slumps.
When class is over, he’s out the door before I can ask if he wants help today.
The Rainbow Alliance room is just as rowdy as the first meeting I went to with Griff. As soon as we go in, Sam, who’s eating an apple, waves us over to a desk. “Hey, Griff. Ash, right?”
I blush like a doofus. “Um, yeah. Hi.”
Sam takes a bite of apple, makes eye contact with Griffey, and nods. “I caught you staring at me here last week.”
Oh god, Griffey’s staged an intervention. “Sorry,” I mumble with my face down. “I’m new here, I just, I’m trying to, like . . . get my footing, I guess.”
“It’s okay.”
I glance up. Sam and Griffey are both smiling. “People stare at me all the time,” Sam says. “I always ask why. They usually say they’re trying to figure out what I am.”
“Um.” I glance at Griffey. “People
