MILA 2.0. Debra Driza
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. .”
“Okay,” I murmured past the giant knot clogging my throat. His kindness, losing Dad; my feelings were all blending together into one big explosive concoction. Who knew which emotion would burst free at any given time?
“Hey. You okay?”
I swallowed hard, nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“That your dad’s shirt?”
I nodded again.
“He died . . . recently?”
I cleared my throat, forced air into my lungs. All this time, I’d been complaining about how everyone tiptoed around Dad’s death. Only a hypocrite wouldn’t answer.
“Yeah. In a fire.”
I heard his shoes scrape wood as he shifted positions. “Rough. Were you there?”
Supposedly. I sifted through my memory again, seeking flames, smoke, anything. Like every other time, nothing came.
And then I heard a scream. In my head, a girl’s scream.
The sound made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. But the only images to accompany it were those same white walls, a white lab coat. The smell of bleach.
Still no fire.
“I don’t remember.”
I felt his surprise more than saw it, because as soon as the words came tumbling out, I closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe I’d said that, and yet . . . instant relief.
The weight of his hand on my shoulder shocked me. “You okay?” he repeated. Softly.
“Yeah. But I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.”
When I peeked up between a few loose strands of hair, I was stunned to see that he wasn’t giving me one of those “what’s her deal?” looks, one of Parker’s specialties. “No problem.”
He closed his eyes. This time, the silence felt companionable. If I could have sat out there for the rest of the day, just feeling normal in someone else’s company for a change, I would have done it in a flash. But after a while, the warning bell stuttered its crazy ring, signaling lunch’s end.
Hunter groaned. He stretched his long arms over his head, an act that pulled his shirt tight across his chest and accentuated the fact that muscles existed there. I felt my cheeks flush and looked at my feet, whereas Kaylee would have squealed. Not that I couldn’t appreciate his physical attractiveness, because apparently I could. A lot.
But what was really compelling about him was his sensitivity. Something that none of the other girls even cared enough to discover before deciding he was potential boyfriend material.
That notion made me want to stuff him into my backpack and hide him away.
“Want to trade cell numbers? Just to talk and stuff,” he said.
I ducked my head before he could see my smile widen into an obnoxiously goofy grin. I gave him my number as I pulled my phone out of my bag. “What’s yours?”
My hands vibrated two seconds later.
Our gazes locked while I pushed send and lifted the phone to my mouth. “Hello?”
“Now you’ve got it,” Hunter said. In stereo. He ended the call, tilting his head as he studied my phone. “A Samsung ie80? They still make those? No surfing for you, huh?”
I sighed, glaring at my phone. “No. My mom’s sort of anti-internet. Anti-computers, really. She won’t even let me get a laptop.”
He looked startled; the same look everyone gave when they found out Mom chose to shun modern technology. One girl had even asked if I was Amish. “Parents” was all he finally said, though. With a knowing smile.
We headed up the path leading back into school, side by side.
“What class do you have next?” he asked, just before we reached the door.
“Pre-calc. You?”
“AP chemistry.”
See that? Not even remotely dim. “Cool.”
When we reached the door, he leaned across me to open it. The brush of his arm across my shoulder sent a shiver rushing through me. I stepped into the congested hallway and fumbled to put a name to the strange feeling, just as a familiar voice rang out.
“Hey, Mila, there you are! And . . . you ran into Hunter?”
Kaylee stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, forming a platform-heeled, long-legged obstacle that students veered to avoid hitting. Her emphasis on “ran into” wasn’t lost on me, even in the din of chattering voices and footsteps as kids rushed to their next class.
Her gaze touched on me, lingered longer on Hunter and even longer on the cell phones we still clutched in our hands. I shoved mine into my bag, even though I wasn’t sure why, exactly. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
She stepped closer, her grin flashing fewer teeth than usual. “So what were you guys doing out there? Was Mila helping you fill out your forms?”
Hunter shrugged and shook his hair out of his face. “Something like that,” he said. And then he winked at me before merging into the flow of students and ambling down the hallway.
Kaylee pressed a hand to her chest and watched his retreat. “Mysterious guys are so hot.”
But the second he was out of sight, her playfulness vanished. She whirled on me with her hands on her hips. “Is that why you ditched us at lunch today, so you could get Hunter all to yourself? What, are you some kind of stalker now? Oh my god, Mila, that is so uncool!”
Red blotches erupted on her cheeks, and her voice rose with each question, loud enough to garner sideways looks from the kids passing by. Two girls from our homeroom started whispering, while a trio of boys poked one another and laughed.
“Shhhh!” I said.
“What, am I embarrassing you?” she said in an even louder voice. “About HUNTER?”
More kids turned to look, triggering that trapped feeling again. My muscles tensed. I wanted out of the public eye. Now.
In a quick movement hidden by the position of her body, I grabbed Kaylee’s upper arm. Then I pulled her to the door and yanked it open. My momentum propelled both of us outside, away from the streaming students and their way-too-curious eyes.
“Mila, you’re hurting me!” Kaylee tugged against my grip.
With dawning horror, I looked down to see I was squeezing her upper arm. I released my grip, and her other hand immediately rubbed the spot. “What’s your deal?” she said, her stare all brown-eyed accusation.
I shook my head, dazed, gaping at the way she cradled her arm to her chest. Seriously, what was my deal?
I couldn’t believe I’d just grabbed Kaylee like that, out of nowhere. What a terrible thing to do.
“Kaylee, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. There were all those people, and I just . . . get a little claustrophobic sometimes. I didn’t think.”
Between the jump with Bliss and my booth dive at Dairy Queen, there seemed to be a lot of that going on lately. Too much.
“You’re a nut, you know that?” she said, still clutching her arm.
My chin whipped up and down in my enthusiasm to agree. “I’ll work on it, promise.”
“Do that,” she said, shaking her head before walking off.
I tried to dismiss the incident. Really, I did. But a tiny, niggling worry made it difficult. The truth was, I hadn’t even been trying to grab Kaylee’s arm with any real degree of force. I definitely hadn’t been trying to hurt her.
So how on earth