He was skilled at avoiding questions, and talented in the art of distraction. As promised, he’d left right before Mom came home, but he didn’t tell me anything remotely useful.
Luc didn’t show up at my locker on Tuesday.
That was a good thing, because if he did, there was a good chance James might’ve punched him, and that would’ve ended badly . . . for James.
After school on Tuesday, I’d grabbed something to eat with Zoe and Heidi, and we met up with Emery. I was with them when I got a text from Mom that she wouldn’t be home till late, and the girls ended up hanging out at my place until it grew dark outside. Mom came home about twenty minutes after they left.
Tuesday felt normal, like it used to be before Colleen and Amanda . . . and Luc, and I didn’t realize how badly I needed time with my friends until then. Where we just ate a ton of junk food and talked about nothing . . . nothing scary.
Normalcy didn’t last long.
On Wednesday, April and her minions took to protesting the Luxen at the entrance of the school. Their group had doubled in size since Monday.
I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. April and I weren’t the closest, and on most days I didn’t consider her a friend, but I had to try to talk some sense into her, because she was getting everyone riled up.
I waited for her after our third-period class, catching her in the hallway. “Hey.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Can we talk real quick?”
“Sure.” She was shoving a thick monstrosity of a binder into her bag. “What’s up?”
My hand tightened around my backpack strap. “What are you doing, April? With the whole protesting thing?”
She stopped and looked up. “Excuse me?”
“Why are you doing this? The Luxen here haven’t done anything wrong, and you’re—”
“I’m what, Evie?” Her face pinched. “Vocalizing my right to be safe in my high school?”
“You are safe.”
She laughed as she stepped to the side, continuing to jam her binder into her bag. “You’re an idiot if you think any of us are safe anywhere. You saw Amanda. You know what happened to Colleen.”
I stiffened. “I clearly remember what I saw, but that doesn’t mean all Luxen are dangerous. Or that any of the Luxen who go here are responsible.”
“How do you know that? Did you ask them?” she replied.
“I don’t need to ask them. I don’t walk around assuming every Luxen is a murderer.”
“Well, you should.” She yanked up the zipper on her bag. “I really thought that you, out of everyone, would be standing with me. Your father—”
“Stop bringing up my father, April. You didn’t know him.” We were starting to get stares, but I didn’t care. “What you’re doing is wrong and super-disappointing.”
“Disappointing?” She laughed as she flipped her ponytail over her shoulder.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“You know what? You’ve disappointed me.” April pivoted on her heel and stalked off, her sleek ponytail swaying with each step.
I disappointed her? I almost laughed, but nothing about this was funny.
Talking with April had gone about as well as expected, but at least I’d tried. Maybe Zoe could try talking to her. She knew April better.
My conversation failure with April pecked away at me for the rest of the day, only sliding into the back of my mind when I walked out to my car and saw Luc was waiting for me, leaning against the car, ankles crossed and hands resting on the hood.
There was a small group clustered together across from him, openly checking him out. He was grinning like a maniac when I walked up to him, and somehow, thirty minutes later, he was at my house again.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked, walking into the kitchen. “I don’t have any Coke.”
“Whatever you have is fine.” He lingered by the dining room table as I grabbed two fruit punch Capri Suns. Turning, I tossed one to him. He easily caught it. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I pulled the plastic off my straw.
“Is there trouble at your school?”
I stabbed my straw through the little hole in the Capri Sun and looked up. “There’ve been protests. You’ve heard about that?”
“I’ve heard some things.”
“How?”
His smile turned secretive.
“Why do you always do that?”
“Do what, Peaches?”
“Seriously. That.”
He bit down on his lower lip and then let it pop free. “You’re going to have to be more detailed.”
I slurped up a good portion of the Capri Sun in one gulp. “You’re always evasive. Like, when you talk, it’s only ever half the story. You still haven’t told me anything you promised you would.”
“I’ve told you a lot.” He finished off his drink. From where he stood he tossed the empty container, and the damn thing actually landed in the garbage. I hated him. “And I’ve actually told you something pretty major that has nothing to do with what I am.”