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“I don’t know.”
“Do you think he will want to come over tonight?” Mateo asked. “To game?”
“Don’t you have plans with a couple of your friends tonight?”
After Blaise had driven me home this morning, Mateo had told me that he was hanging out with some sophomore girls after school today, so I wouldn’t bother him about where he was or who he was hanging out with.
“Yeah, I do … but Blaise has been through shit these past couple days. He probably has a lot going on with the police, but can you tell him that if he wants to come over, I’ll be home to play with him?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“You think he’d want to?”
“Sure. Why not?”
I didn’t want to get into specifics about Blaise’s home life or how Blaise didn’t really have friends and skateboarded alone all the time. Mateo and Blaise were more similar than I’d thought—maybe than eventheythought.
If Blaise didn’t have to be at the police station or didn’t want to spend time at the skatepark alone to think everything through, he would one hundred percent want to come over and play with Mateo. I’d bet he would be ecstatic that Mateo asked.
“I’ll text him.”
My eyes widened. “You have his number?!”
“Yeah, I ask him about …” Mateo stopped, cheeks flushing.
“About what?”
“About girls all the time. Nothing weird.”
Scrunching my nose, I stared at him. He didn’t even say goodbye as he twirled around and walked back to his table, taking a seat next to a girl with pretty green eyes, long black hair, and mascara skills that I would kill for.
Notreallykill for, though.
RIP, Skylar.
Just kidding. She was a bitch.
“So, any news on Skylar?” Piper asked, taking a bite of her ham sandwich.
I rested my elbows on the table and leaned forward, sighing and remembering what Mr. Avery had told me yesterday. Whether there was truth to it or not, I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to find out the hard way. Who knew who was listening? This was Redwood. There were always people looking for the latest gossip.
“Nothing,” I said, not completely lying.
With this morning’s happenings, I hadn’t had much time to really look into it more.
“Did Blaise even come to school today?” Piper asked.
“Yeah, he did,” I said, spotting him at the door.
When Blaise walked into the cafeteria, the whispering stopped. In one sudden movement, like something out of a horror movie, everyone watched him walk into the room and toward me.
While the rumors bothered me, Blaise didn’t seem like he cared at all. He ignored everyone and hurried toward me with his rain jacket zipped all the way up to the neck and a brown paper bag of Italian food from a ritzy restaurant downtown that must’ve cost a hundred dollars a dish.
He set the food in front of me and sat to my left, blocking the stares from everyone else, including Skylar’s annoying friends. “I didn’t know what kind of meatballs you wanted, so I got you regular,” he said, pulling out the bag’s contents.
Bread. Olive oil. And a heaping container of spaghetti and meatballs.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, gently patting him on the forearm.
