for so long, has apparently heard that something went down between me and Chase. That means word’s gotten around.
A spark of anger lights my belly as I picture Chase bragging to all those Lex kids that he bagged a Darling girl.
I speed up, walking fast down the hall with my eyes pinned on Chase’s back.
He’s an island. Like, there’s literally a bubble of space around him, which is shocking given the size of my class. Three hundred seniors attend Darling. The halls are packed this morning, yet no one seems to be able to penetrate his personal space. Fuck. I kinda love that.
I walk faster, waving hello to classmates but not stopping until I reach Chase. He’s halted in front of the AP Calc room. How convenient.
I hug my books close to my chest and clear my throat. “Chase.”
He spins slowly until we’re facing each other. “Beth.”
Despite my anger that he might’ve told people about us, I appreciate that he calls me Beth. He knows me only as that. I don’t have to remind him that it’s my name now.
“Who’d you tell?” I say bluntly.
He wrinkles his forehead. “Tell?”
“Yeah, who did you tell?” I repeat, sounding way more confident and confrontational than I feel right now. Just being in his presence is fogging my mind. “About Saturday night.”
Rather than flush or look sheepish, he meets my gaze head-on. “Nobody.”
“Nobody,” I echo, still suspicious.
“Yeah. Why would I tell anyone?” he says simply.
For some inexplicable reason, I believe him. I believe he’s kept quiet about what we did at the party. Someone else must’ve seen us. Maybe someone saw me coming out of that bedroom. Ashleigh, or the guy who owned the house. Whoever it was, I know it wasn’t Chase.
“All right, then,” I say with a nod.
The corners of his eyes crinkle in humor. “All right, then,” he echoes.
Anger dissipating, I brush by him, open the classroom door and then reach back and grab the sleeve of his untucked and unbuttoned denim shirt to pull him inside. “So I don’t know if you’ve heard the scoop, but the AP Calc teacher is a monster. Rumor has it she stays up nights and spends her weekends thinking of new ways to torture us. Expect constant pop quizzes and no-mercy midterms.”
He sounds amused. “Okay.”
There are a few other students inside. Macy Stedman waves to me until she notices Chase. Then her hand falls and her face grows anxious.
“Lizzie, come here.” She motions me over.
“Lizzie?” asks Chase, an odd note in his voice.
“It’s Beth,” I tell him. “Elizabeth Jones.”
There’s a long, strained beat.
“Elizabeth Jones?” he chokes out.
“Yes. But everyone calls me Beth.”
He jerks his arm out of my grip. My hand drops to my side. I flush lightly, embarrassed by his sudden need to get away from me.
“Did you tell me your last name the other night?” His voice is low and harsh. I have to lean in to hear him.
“Maybe. No. Probably not.” I don’t know his, either, I realize. “Why? What’s yours?”
“Lizzie! I need to talk to you!” Macy calls shrilly.
“It’s Beth,” I tell her between gritted teeth. “And I’ll be there in a sec.” I turn back to Chase, whose face is chalk white. “What’s yours?” I repeat.
He licks his lips and takes another step back. And then another. Until two desks are between us. “I’m Charles Donnelly. And I’m sorry.”
With that, he turns on his heel and walks out of the classroom.
Charles Donnelly.
My stomach lurches. “I thought your name was Chase!” I yell after him.
Macy appears at my shoulder. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
I turn bewildered eyes to her, hoping for some help in processing what I just learned. “That was Charles Donnelly?”
“Uh-huh.” She nods and rubs a hand up my arm.
“I didn’t recognize him.” My head’s clogged up. I can’t stop blinking.
“He’s changed a lot. Prison will do that for you,” she sneers toward the empty doorway. “Come on. I bet you’re in shock. I can’t believe you have classes with him. Admin sucks. They are so incompetent.” She leads me over to the desk next to hers. “Should I get you a water? Or, um, a Coke maybe? I’ll get a Coke. Be right back.”
I barely register her leaving because my mind is still whirling over the fact that I slept with Charles Donnelly.
The guy who killed my sister.
I barely make it to the trash can before my breakfast surges violently up my throat.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Macy asks for what feels like the thousandth time.
“Yep,” I answer as brightly as possible. The lunchroom’s familiar buzz isn’t settling my nerves like I’d hoped. Instead, I keep wondering how many of those conversations are about me. I’m not blind to the fact that there was a shit ton of head turning when I entered.
“You didn’t stay in the nurse’s office very long,” Scarlett says quietly. “I would’ve lain in there all day.”
“He shouldn’t even be here,” Macy insists. “Like why isn’t he at Lexington Public or Lincoln?”
“The mayor lives in Grove Heights and that’s Darling school district,” Yvonne, one of my other friends, points out.
A voice of reason. I throw her a small relieved smile. She frowns in return, as if smiling is not permitted at a time like this, so I let my gaze fall back onto my unappealing salad.
“The mayor should open enroll him into Lex. Isn’t that where all the delinquents hang out?” Macy asks.
“There was that huge drug bust in the parking lot last year,” Yvonne confirms. “Their quarterback got sent to juvie.”
“Do you think Charlie and him were in the same cell?” Macy’s tone is scandalized, but she leans forward, elbows on the table, anxious for more gossip.
“Wow. I never thought of that,” Yvonne says.
The table falls silent as they all contemplate this possible turn of events. I shove some wilted lettuce in my mouth and pray that we change the subject.
I’m Charles Donnelly. And I’m sorry.
His rough words keep running through my mind and I’m not trying very hard to shut them out. It’s like when you have a song stuck in your head and you force yourself to listen to it a hundred times until you get so sick of it you never want to hear it again. I’m forcing myself to think about Chase’s—no, Charlie’s—words, to picture his ashen, pained expression when he realized who I was. Maybe if I think about it long and hard enough, I can make sense of what happened without wanting to puke my guts out.
“He is...hot, though, don’t you think?” Macy says in a hushed voice.
Scarlett gasps. “Oh my God, Macy.”
“I’m just saying. He’s hot and you’re all lying if you deny it.” Macy pouts, sitting back in her