Instead of paying attention, he alternates between staring off into space and doodling something on the paper. I can’t distinguish if his lack of attention is from boredom with the teacher or distraction because of something else all together.

Realizing I’m spending way too much time watching someone I shouldn’t be focused on, I force my attention back to the teacher, deciding to write notes as he talks in order to occupy my eyes. But it doesn’t take long before my mind starts wandering again, seeing as I’ve read this story and analyzed it ad nauseum in my advanced English class last year. Of course, my eyes can’t help but follow my mind. Only this time, when I find myself staring, watching the boy who looks as distracted as I feel, Zack turns and catches me.

Crap.

My first reaction is to look away quickly, as though if I did it fast enough he wouldn’t think I was staring. Stupidly, I look up a few seconds later to see if he’s bought what I’m trying to pass off as a casual glance of chance, rather than stalkerish staring, and I find he’s staring back at me. Intently.

My eyes react automatically by looking away again, but they quickly make their way back, getting caught in his gaze. It’s just so direct and attentive. My heart speeds up and I feel my face heat with embarrassment as my eyes flicker back and forth to his, trying to decide what to do. Not nearly as uncomfortable with our direct stare, Zack’s still not turning away. No, instead, the corner of his mouth twitches toward a grin. He’s relishing my discomfort at being caught.

Luckily, the bell rings and Allie turns to talk to me, completely oblivious to the tension she is breaking. I grab my books and pack up quickly as she talks, needing to put some distance between me and the voiceless boy.

“We’re going to work on our project tonight, 6pm. I’ll pick you up so your Aunt doesn’t have to drive you. Text me your address,” Allie instructs and I agree.

I glance back in Zack’s direction, only to find his seat vacant. He’s disappeared as wordlessly as he arrived. Looking down, I find a folded-up note propped on my desk, Thanks for the pencil.

Chapter 17

Zack

This time tomorrow we’ll both be different. Tonight’s a night we’ll never forget. I can’t wait. XO Em. Sitting in my room, the post-it-note I’d found stuck to my dashboard the morning of the bonfire clutched in my hand, my mind wanders to Nikki today in class. The way she looked at me, her big green eyes and pale skin, skin that betrays her as it flushes at being caught. There’s just something about her that I’m drawn to, something that makes me smile when everything else around me only makes me angry.

Lost in thought for a few seconds, I grimace when I look down and see Emily’s handwriting. Guilt sickens me. I should be picturing Emily. I read the note for the thousandth time. This time tomorrow we’ll both be different. Tonight’s a night we’ll never forget. I can’t wait. XO Em. I shut my eyes and will my mind to see Emily. Nikki’s green eyes greet me.

Again. This time tomorrow we’ll both be different. Tonight’s a night we’ll never forget. I can’t wait. XO Em. Eyes closed tightly, I try to remember Emily on that last day — the last time she smiled, the last time she was happy. Instead, the curve of Nikki’s mouth fills my subconscious.

I hate myself. Again. This time tomorrow we’ll both be different. Tonight’s a night we’ll never forget. I can’t wait. XO Em. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. Again. This time tomorrow we’ll both be different. Tonight’s a night we’ll never forget. I can’t wait. XO Em. Twenty more tries are no more successful than my first attempt. My eyes jar open, leaving Nikki’s face behind. I shred the note into a hundred tiny pieces.

The door to my room creaks open loudly. My mother knocks softly even though she’s already opened the door. “Zack.”

I don’t respond.

“Sweetie.” Her tone is soft, pensive. I feel badly for making her walk on eggshells, but I don’t know how to get myself back to where I was. I’m not sure if I can ever go back. Too much has changed. I’ve changed.

She sits down next to me on the bed. I crumple the little yellow post-it pieces into my hand. Mom takes her hand and covers mine, the one clutching Emily’s note.

“I thought you were going to work on your English project tonight?”

“Changed my mind,” I say tersely. I don’t really feel like debating my social life, or lack thereof.

“Why?” Why the hell does she think? I don’t respond, not because I have nothing to say, but because she won’t like what she hears.

“Zack?” Her voice rises to that motherly tone. The one that’s a warning more than a question. I stare at her blankly, but she doesn’t back down.

“Go. You need to get out. You need to be around some friends. Work on your project. You always feel good around Keller. Go.”

Annoyed at her persistence, I stand. Wadding up the torn Post-It in my hand, I peg it at the garbage can in the corner of my room. I miss, but don’t bother to pick up the tiny, yellow pieces scattered all over the floor on my way out. I slam the door behind me.

***

With no destination in mind, I drive around aimlessly for more than an hour. It’s nearly nine when I arrive at The Grind, the coffee shop I was supposed to meet the group at. Allie’s red Volkswagen is parked right out front, the hood open as she and Keller peer into the engine. I pull over because, even though I choose to wallow in my own self pity, I’m not that big of a dick that I’d pass a friend who looks like they could use a hand.