“Likewise,” Holden said, not taking it.
The two locked gazes for a moment and then River broke with a laugh. “Okay, whatever.”
“Holden is from Seattle,” Evelyn said. “Isn’t that right…?”
Her words trailed as Holden, wearing that strange, faint smile of his, languidly rolled his shoulders along the curve of the pole until he was on the other side and then walked away.
“He’s dressed like it’s winter,” Frankie muttered. “What a fucking weirdo.”’
“Do you ever stop being a jackass?” I shot at him.
He laughed and pretended to be scared. “Ooooh. Someone’s on the rag.”
My face reddened. Frankie Dowd and a couple of his skater friends bullied Miller all through middle and high school. Miller always told me to stay out of it, and I knew he could take care of himself, but I hated it. Chance and River were never among the bullies; they barely tolerated Frankie, but we’d all gone to school together since forever. Like one big dysfunctional family.
River’s gaze lingered where Holden had gone, then he loomed over Frankie. “Get lost, asshole.”
Frankie chuckled. “Touchy, touchy, Whitmore. Later, my dudes.” He flashed a peace sign and walked away backwards, as if the choice to leave had been his.
River pulled his gaze to me. “You’re coming to the party, right, Vi?”
I nodded. God, he was cute. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes. Built like the quarterback that he was, his shirt clung to the muscles that packed his arm and torso. My heart skipped a beat, and it never did that with Miller.
Except that wasn’t exactly true.
My heart beat for Miller in a completely different way than it did with anyone else: when his numbers were off and he got sick. When I remembered that awful night when he’d nearly died in my arms. When I hugged him goodbye after hanging out, and I could feel his own heart beat in his chest, like it was talking to mine.
I realized River was waiting for me to answer his question while I stood there like a dope, lost in thought over another guy.
“Uh yes, I’ll be there.”
“Great. I’ll see you then,” he said and strode off with his friend.
“Yep. See you then.”
Evelyn was glaring at me, hands on her hips.
“What?”
“Do you have to be such a goody-two shoes? You chased Holden off.”
“Me? Hardly. And anyway, I get the feeling it would take a lot more than someone lecturing him about secondhand smoke to scare him.”
“True. He looks like he’s seen some shit. I wonder what his story is.” She ran her tongue over her lower lip. “That’s my kind of challenge.”
We crossed the grass again, and I spotted Miller sitting on a boulder just outside the crowd of cafeteria tables. He wore torn jeans, boots, and a faded vintage Sonic Youth T-shirt. A sack lunch sat in his lap and he was rummaging in his backpack, probably for his insulin case.
Evelyn followed my line of sight and sighed. “You’re going to tell him about Chance’s party, aren’t you?”
“Of course, I am. Why? Do you think Frankie and those guys are still going to give him a hard time?”
Evelyn shrugged. “Frankie’s a moron with nothing better to do. But Miller looks like he can handle himself. Your little boy is all grown up, isn’t he? Too bad.”
“Too bad, what?” I asked, anger flaring. “Too bad he’s poor? Why does that even matter?”
“It’s not that he’s poor. It’s the whole picture. He lived in a car. His mom prostituted herself. The whole thing puts a…something around him. A cloud?”
“An aura?” I said, crossing my arms.