“Nothing,” Jenna says, grinning. “Nothing at all.”
I ignore the fact that “nothing” in Jenna-speak means the exact opposite. I hate the fact that I’m so frazzled. Must be a combination of what happened with Speio and all the thoughts that have resurfaced about my family. I’m just not myself. Later, I’ll have to explain that to Jenna instead of letting her go on thinking that some new guy has me in a tizzy. Which, of course, he doesn’t.
“So, are you coming or what?” I say to Lo, who still hasn’t moved from the table. “Or maybe we can get Cara Andrews to take over as the official tour guide of Dover Prep. She’s only been staring this way for the past ten minutes like a lovesick puppy.”
Lo turns those dark eyes on me, amusement still flickering in their depths, but there’s something else there, too—a glint of disappointment, as if my earlier words had bothered him somehow. That makes no sense, I know. Lo doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him, far less me. It’s more likely his pride’s been injured or something.
“Sure, lead on. I am at your bidding,” he says, standing and ignoring my dig about Cara. My gaze flicks to his, but there’s nothing that reflects the slight mocking tone I heard in his voice. “Nice to meet you guys,” he says to Jenna and Sawyer.
“Yeah, definitely see you around!” Jenna singsongs with a grin at me that makes me want to throttle her.
“So obviously, you know that this is the cafeteria,” I say over my shoulder on the way out, throwing a murderous glare at my best friend. As we walk by Cara’s table, I can’t help noticing that her lovesick glances have now evolved into full-on venom directed at me. I sigh. Just great—all I need is to get in a war with an ex-nemesis over some guy prize that I don’t give two hoots about. She can have him for all I care. I’m just about to offer her the tour task—and simultaneous peace offering—when I notice that Lo’s already at the cafeteria doors, staring at me with an arrogant, challenging expression as if he’s expecting me to do just that.
Am I that predictable? I sigh and head toward him.
In the hallway, I walk briskly but Lo has no trouble keeping up with those long legs of his, not that I’m noticing that he has long legs. He’s just tall, I tell myself, and then realize that I’m having an internal argument about Lo—the thorn in my side—and his legs, which I now inexplicably feel like breaking.
“Cara’s got the hots for you,” I remark, angry with myself for letting him get under my skin. Again. “She’d do a much better job at this than I would.”
But Lo doesn’t answer, just continues to wear the same amused smile as if it’s his customary expression—or maybe it’s his expression around me. I must be so amusing to him. My leg-breaking thoughts return in full force.
“Lockers,” I snarl, throwing my hand to the side and gesturing needlessly to the metal-lined hallways. “Gym’s down that way, also pool, tennis courts and sports fields.”
“Where you play field hockey?”
“What?”
A smile. “I heard you were cocaptain. Plus, everyone’s talking about that game you guys won last week. Kind of hard to ignore.” Lo pauses to look at me, tilting his head and chewing on the corner of his lower lip as we’re walking. I look away quickly, enflamed again. “So, field hockey, huh? I just don’t see it.”
“See what?” I snap back, irritated for feeling so flustered around a stupid boy. I quicken my step, wanting to get this tour over with so I can get as far away from him as possible. “Down there’s the music hall and the auditorium.”
“You look more like a swimmer to me.”
“I hate the water,” I say without thinking. “Student center is down there.”
Lo’s chuckle is long and deep. I sprint up the stairs at the end of the hallway. “Didn’t look like you hated the water the other day.”
Crap, crap, double crap. “I meant I’m allergic to chlorine so I hate pool water.”
It’s not that I’m entirely allergic. Chlorine in intense concentrations can be irritating to our internal tissue, but it isn’t toxic or anything. I can swim in a pool fine, but the chlorine excuse works well as a response to anyone suggesting that I try out for the swim team, which Speio would likely have an aneurysm over.
“Interesting.”
“What’s interesting about that?” I can’t help myself but Lo’s quiet response bugs me.
“It’s too bad. You’re a strong swimmer.”
Confused by what sounds like a sincere compliment, I duck my head and then smile. “Hmm, thought that was you watching me before, like a—what were your words again?—oh, yes, a cherry smoothie,” I jibe, mimicking his words from that morning.
Lo winks. “Strawberry’s my favorite, but who’s checking?”
My breath hitches in my throat at his obvious admission, my words tumbling out past it. “Principal Cano’s office is down that hall, as you know. Plus, all the other admin offices and the faculty lounge. Media room over there down the same hallway. Art studio’s on that side. Classrooms. They’re pretty much the same, you know, the usual.” I turn toward him, still flushed at his casual admission of staring at me on the beach. “Look, this is pretty much it. Like every other high school.”
“I wouldn’t know. My last high school was twelve rooms.”
“In Hawaii?” I blurt out, and then kick myself. “I mean, Mrs. Leland mentioned that you were a transfer. From there.”
Lo throws me a long measured look. “She did?” I nod. “What else did Mrs. Leland say about me?”
“Not much, just that you had transferred because...” I trail off, unable to finish the sentence or find a quick enough substitute for because your family burned in a horrific accident. My immediate rush of pity is no surprise, nor is the sudden reaction to it on Lo’s face. His hard expression hits me like a bucket of ice water. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” Every muscle in that angular face snaps to attention, his eyes becoming cold and unreadable.
“Thanks for showing me around.” Without another word, Lo stalks off in the opposite direction just as the bell rings. Flustered by his sudden departure, I retrace my steps to my locker to get my history books.
In class, I find myself unable to concentrate. Caught in the crossfire of Speio’s pointed looks, Jenna’s raised eyebrows, Cara’s demon scowls and the fascinating topic of the Bill of Rights, all I can think about is Lo and my hideous faux pas of alluding to his private secrets. From the look on my face, he’d guessed that I’d somehow found out about his family, and now I feel terrible for spying in Principal Cano’s office. I kick myself mentally for the nineteenth time.
“Class, please open your textbooks to page one hundred and eleven, and read the rest of the chapter,” Mr. Moss says. “Then pair up and work on the quiz questions at the end. There will be a real quiz next class.”
Amid the groans in the classroom, mechanically I do as requested, but I can’t even focus to get the right answers. Jenna glowers at me.
“What’s with you?” she whispers.
“Nothing. Just not feeling that great.”
A wicked grin. “Anything to do with loverboy? Did you make out on your tour?”
“Gross. I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’m not into him, so forget whatever it is you’re plotting about in your head, okay?” I say. “I don’t want to talk about Lo.”