As it turned out, he sat across from me. It was our class in economics taught by Mr. Franks, a spry little man in his forties with prematurely gray hair, whose flow of energy and excitement was designed to fill his students with enthusiasm and interest. Sometimes he looked like he was teaching to the back of the room, to an imaginary perfect class of students. I was amused by the way he would ask a question and then, anticipating no response, answer it himself as though someone in the class had done so. I could see that the dark-haired boy was just as amused by him as I was.
"Hey," he said when the bell rang to end the period, and we stood up to leave. "I'm not the class president, but welcome to Dickinson."
"Thank you," I said, and then quickly put my hand over my lips. "Oops. Didn't mean to say it."
He laughed.
"I'm Trevor Foley. Don't believe anything Lynette tells you," he warned. "She's a pathological liar and the least popular girl in the school. In fact, if anyone wanted to get you off to a bad start with the kids at Dickinson, she'd be the one he'd recommend you be-come friends with.
"Take your time. Do what everyone else does here: window-shop first:'
"Is that what you're doing?"
"Sure. And I like what I see," he told me, smiled, and walked on.
There was something about him that reminded me of Noble. Was it the way he looked at people? The way he smiled? The mystery in his eyes? Or was it just my wishful thinking?
After all, there was nothing I feared more than being alone. And something told me that could happen here as easily as it could anywhere.
9 My Mother's Child
.
Ami was waiting for me at the end of the school day, but despite Wade's prediction, she was not full of apologies. She was angry instead. She stood by
her sports car waving as I stepped out of the front entrance. Trevor was beside me. He and I had spent most of the day together. He had sat with me at lunch, introduced me to other students, and given me advice about some of them and some of our teachers.
Waverly, who was obviously the class clown, teased him mercilessly about me.
"You finally found a girl who would give you the time of day, huh, Trevor?" he said at lunch. "Wait until tomorrow," he warned. "When she finds out you just got over a sexually transmitted disease."
"Shut up, you idiot," Trevor told him, trying not to give him the satisfaction of sounding too angry.
I could see that Lynette was upset about my not clinging to her offer of friendship. She tried to get me to sit with her at lunch and was both surprised and disappointed that I was already spending time with Trevor.
"I'm just trying to be nice," she quipped indignantly, but it looked like tears were imminent.
I invited her to join us. She thought about it for a moment and then opted to sit with two other girls who were at least twenty pounds overweight and shared her disdain for most of the student body. Together they formed a perfect picture: Misery Loves Company.
"Celeste!" Ami called, even though she knew I had seen her waiting. "Hurry up, we have some things to do and we're already late."
I turned to Trevor.
"Thanks for spending so much time with me," I said.
"Another thank you? I'm sorry, but there is nothing I can do about it now. I'll have to report you tomorrow," he joked.
I started away, laughing.
"Hey," he said, catching up and seizing my arm to turn me back. "Seriously, if you have any questions about any of the work, here's my number," he said, and gave me a card. "We all have cards," he added when he saw my surprise. "It's a thing here. Gives you more prestige."
"Thank yo--never mind," I said, stopping myself and putting his card in my purse.
"Hey, that's not fair. How about giving me your number?"
"I don't have a card," I said.
"But you have a number."