Chapter 5

“Palmer isn’t stupid, though,” Zachary says. “I don’t think he needs trouble with the daughter of Sandfield Rock’s future mayor. I don’t know, Amber, about you and the girls, but this representative of the dark side of society doesn’t need any clubs. Jake, just look at him. That is who you should learn composure from. He hasn’t even done anything yet, and he’s already drawn attention to himself. By the way, that’s one of the main traits of a strong personality.”

Finley’s hand is on Trisha’s waist again, and he is unpleasantly surprised:

“Matthew Palmer?”

“Yes, him.”

“Are you kidding, Baker? That dude has no principles at all, and I would know. Don’t fool yourself about him. Nobody here is happy he’s back. That isn’t character, it’s damn heredity from his rotten family. I wouldn’t get involved with him for anything.”

“Yes, I remember,” Zack says with a snort, “how in ninth grade Paul Mason’s jersey signed by some lacrosse star disappeared from the locker room, and Palmer got blamed. Then a year later it turned out Doug Holman had swiped it when he showed up in town wearing it.”

“So what? And not some star. Drew Adams himself. He played for the New York Lizards in Major League Lacrosse. And Doug has a diagnosis. His doctor said so.”

“So nothing, except no one even thought to apologize to Palmer. But Doug was declared under the school psychologist’s protection. Convenient, right, when your mother is on the parent committee?”

“Palmer didn’t defend himself,” Jake objects, “so why should he demand an apology afterward? He could’ve said right away that he wasn’t the one who took it.”

“Are you sure he didn’t? Or maybe he knew no one would believe him?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he stole something else under all that noise. His family is like that—taking anything that isn’t nailed down right under the law’s nose.”

“Finley?”

“What?”

“Sometimes your narrow-mindedness amazes me…”

The guys keep arguing quietly, and I keep looking at Palmer.

Jake has moved closer to Trisha now, and I can see Palmer clearly. I’m sitting at the edge of our table, and so is he, which means we end up facing each other.

He really does have beautiful hands and wrists. And calm, confident movements. He isn’t nervous, no matter what people say about him. He truly doesn’t care. So who did he date last year? When I was with Sean? And why do I care? I should be thinking about something completely different right now, but instead I’m acting like…

Like a stupid girl. The kind guys like Palmer don’t notice.

He’s eating, and I definitely picked the worst possible time to study him, but he suddenly slows and lifts his eyes to me. His gaze stops on my face, finding the person bothering him without a mistake.

It’s too late to hide behind Jake, and pretending I wasn’t the one staring at him just now would be stupid. His attentive eyes, glossy as hot amber syrup, meet mine, and I practically shoot to my feet.

I jump up, desperate to escape that direct gaze, turn, and almost go face-first into the grass when I bang into the bench beside my hip. But Zachary saves me in time, catching me by the elbow.

“Hey, Ashley, what’s wrong?” he asks in surprise, setting down his drink. “Did something happen?”

“No, everything’s fine. I’m just leaving!”

“Where?” Trisha cuts in. “Ash, lunch isn’t over, and you haven’t eaten anything. If this is because of Renton, I swear, he isn’t worth it…”

He keeps looking at me—Matthew Palmer, I can feel it. His intent gaze scratches at my skin and won’t let go, and I can’t stop it because I started it. All I have left now is to run away like a coward, which is exactly what I’m going to do, slinging my bag over my shoulder and grabbing my tray of food.

“I can’t, guys. No appetite. I’ll see you in the newsroom after class. I want to get ready for English. Okay, bye!”

“Bye…”

My hasty escape probably looks stupid from the outside, but it’s the best thing I can do for myself. Still, there’s one upside to running away. While I hurry toward the school entrance past the central tables, I don’t think about Sean or Kate.

I can’t think about them later either, already in English class, because Palmer ends up in class with me again.

He comes in right before the bell, and everything repeats itself. Only this time I don’t look at him. I press my hands to my temples and pretend to study the textbook in front of me intensely while he walks between the rows of desks, answering a few rare greetings. Pausing for a second by my desk, he leaves a small earbud case on it and sits at the empty desk right behind me.

Those are definitely my earbuds. I must have dropped them in the school courtyard when I cowardly ran away from lunch, and Palmer noticed. But my tongue won’t turn enough to thank him. I can’t even move, much less turn around and thank the guy. Instead, I close my eyes and plan to sit like this through the whole lesson, feeling his gaze prick my shoulder blades.

Palmer isn’t stupid, and he probably knows whose daughter I am. How dumb was it to catch his attention twice in one day? And even if this is only my paranoia and he’s already forgotten all about me, I need to deal with this strange anxiety and unwanted curiosity that made me look at him…

“Ashley Wilson?”

…He is undeniably attractive. A classic bad boy, with a dark aura and a dangerous gaze, and he probably knows it. It would be better if he didn’t notice me at all.

“Miss Wilson? Is she in class? Or is there a mistake on the roster?”

…Or maybe he doesn’t remember who I am at all. How would he even know anything about me? Big deal, whoever Renton dated last year. Girls far more popular than me were always circling Matthew himself. And me, well, what am I… Half the school stares at him. He’s not going to take revenge on me, is he?

“Ow!”

I have to jump to my feet and open my eyes again because someone suddenly tugs a strand of my hair, and an annoyed voice hisses from behind me:

“Wilson, are you frozen or what? First you jump like a rabbit, then you sit there like a deaf block of wood. Just raise your hand already and say something. Otherwise I’ll start thinking I affect you that much.”

O-or maybe he will?

***

After school, Amber, Zachary, and I gather in the small “Ellison News” newsroom and outline our newspaper’s immediate organizational plan. Zack has already checked with Secretary Moran and Principal Gibson on the names and dates of school events, and he passes the information on to Amber and me.

Contests, exhibitions, fairs, environmental drives, and school flash mobs. Competitions and academic olympiads. Dances, orchestra performances, and the Christmas play. Schedules for different clubs and a news column. Our team has a difficult year ahead, but we’ve gained two assistants, sophomores Roan and Phoebe, so Baker is confident we’ll handle everything just fine.

“…Here, look at this. I’ve prepared a new layout for the updated edition and several article topics. Roan will handle layout, I’ll handle editing and news design, and from you girls we need quality, interesting content.”

“Yes, boss!”