~ Blaire ~
I found Lucas Brighton without any problems. He was the one sitting all by himself in the cafeteria. People weren't even trying to hide their curiosity about him. But of course, no one had the guts to talk to him. I guess I shouldn't sound too harsh. Because if it hadn't been for Kat's executive decree, I wouldn't be giving him a passing glance.
By the time I made it to the cafeteria, I told myself that nothing good would come of having a negative attitude about everything that went down in the library. I was a peer mentor after all. I had signed up for this. So what if Lucas had a record? Maybe he was going through a tough time when he got suspended. Maybe his teachers were assholes. Maybe he had some equivalent of a Kat Kalloway haunting him at his old school.
Whoa. You're glowing.
Yeah, and then there was that. Ugh. I kept mentally kicking myself all the way to where he was sitting.
You know what, Blaire, I told myself, he's going to see you and it's all going to be fine. He'll recognize you, it will be awkward for like thirty seconds max, and then he'll be relieved that he recognizes someone.
And he will be grateful that somebody came to save him from the torture of sitting alone in a crowded school cafeteria. We've all been there at one point in our lives. Pink hair, piercings, so what? Lucas Brighton is just as human as the rest of us.
As I approached, I found myself searching for his piercings, but he wasn't wearing any. I wondered why he had taken them out.
Probably to save himself from judgemental jerks like you, Blaire.
"Lucas? Lucas Brighton?"
He looked at me very suddenly, as if he hadn't noticed me making the trek from the other side of the cafeteria.
"Morning," he said.
I kind of smiled. No one our age ever said good morning these days. Seemed like he had at least some home training. But I couldn't even give him credit for that because he just gave me the once-over look. Like he had no idea who I was.
I couldn't tell if he didn't recognize me from yesterday or if he was just playing it really cool. I mean, I did run away with absolutely no explanation like a complete loser.
I took a steadying breath, introduced myself, and asked for his schedule. Right after he handed it over, someone walked up to me.
"Hey Blaire, glad I caught you. Do you have a minute?"
It was Ellie Tomes, the president of the Art Club. Honestly, I really liked Ellie. She was literally one of the nicest people I've ever met. If it hadn't been for what Kat did back in the seventh grade, Ellie and I might have been friends. Real friends. Not just friendly associates like we were at the moment.
But there was no way I would let myself get that close to Art Club or anyone who enjoyed art as much as I used to.
"I'm kind of trying to help Lucas with his schedule."
Ellie glanced at the pink-haired kid and then back at me. "Oh, right! Okay, really quick then. I just wanted to see if you wanted to attend our interest meeting today."
Bless her heart. Every year Ellie asked me if I wanted to join the Art Club.
"Uh . . ."
Frantically, she added, "It's, like, totally no pressure. I just know that you won that contest –" In the sixth grade "– and your entry was so gorgeous and inspiring. I still can't get it out of my mind."
It was just some watercolor clouds with gold accents. Nothing special.
"Hey. Is everything okay?"
I sighed. "To be honest, I really don't want to be here right now. It's kind of been a rough morning." Then I put on a brave smile. "But I'm going to get back to helping Lucas. I'll see you around, 'kay?"
Once again, I had shut Ellie down. The disappointment in her face always made me feel like a colossal jerk.
With a puzzled frown, she pointed behind me and said, "You mean the guy with the pink hair? Blaire, I think he left."
"What?" I spun around. Ellie was right. Lucas had ditched.
Underneath my mustard cardigan, I started to sweat. "You cannot be serious!"
Of course, his timing was perfectly against me. The herd was on the move. As people shuffled along to their classes, I fought against the current. That's when I saw that pink-haired creep slip through one of the doors that led outside.
A hundred awkward pardons later, I was out there too with no clue what I was going to say to him.
Um, excuse me, Lucas, but you're going in the WRONG DIRECTION.
"Oh my God."
He was climbing the school columns like some diehard parkour Youtuber.
I shouted at him and he shouted right back at me. Long story short, he wasn't coming down. It was time to come up with a Plan B. So I went back inside the building and searched for a solution.
This kid is going to give me a freaking ulcer.
I found the custodian. He listened earnestly while I explained the situation in partial sentences.
It went a little something like: New guy. On the roof. Don't want him. To get in trouble. Can you. Help me. Out? Please!
The friendly custodian assured me that everything would be fine. As if he had seen this happen plenty of times in his many years working in a public high school. He led me to the door that opened up to the roof and unlocked it for me. I thanked him several times before booking it up the tiny staircase to the top of the building.
I found the little twerp popping ollies on his skateboard.
Seriously, what is wrong with this kid?
I shouted at him a bit. Might have insinuated that he was high, which was rude, but could you blame me? And could you believe that as we were screaming back and forth at each other, half of my brain was like: Damn, Lucas is even cuter when he's mad. The veins in his neck were popping and he couldn't really look me in the eye, as if he was somewhat guilty for making me chase him all the way up here.
He kept saying that he wouldn't care if I reported him to the principal, but you could tell that he absolutely would.
Eventually, Lucas Brighton got so fed up with me and apparently life itself that he walked off the building.
Yes. He Literally.
Walked.
Off.
In that moment, everything that I was holding back since the student council meeting erupted. It was as if I didn't have room to suppress my hate for Kat, my insecurity about facing the boy who made me blush yesterday, and my anxiety about avoiding Art Club.
All I had room for was Lucas. And the fact that he no longer had a life.
He's dead. He's dead. Did I really just make this kid suicide off of the building where I go to school?!
I wasn't thinking of getting arrested or spending my life in jail for being a possible suspect in a homicide. Or how this would look when Kat Kalloway got her stinky evil fingers into the rumors that would ensue.
The only thing going through my head after Lucas jumped was that I had been too late. He left this world thinking that no one wanted him. That no one cared.
But he was wrong.
"Lucas, no!"
There was no point in screaming. Or running to the edge of the building. Yet I did it anyway.
But . . . there he was. Standing on a section of roof just below me.
And you know what? This – this right here – was the moment when that pink-haired enigma finally recognized me.
"You're that girl," he said, "the yummy girl, right?"
Yummy Joy Cafe. That's where I worked. I don't know why I found what he said funny, but I laughed anyway. It was too much catharsis in one day.
"Yes. I'm the yummy girl. And you. Are. Not. Dead. Thank the lord."
Lucas climbed back onto the roof where I was, staring at me like one entranced. That's when I realized that he couldn't help it. This was just his face. His unforgettably attractive face.
God, and he's not dead.
I had no explanation for what I did next. Charging forward like that and punishing Luca with a hug, he must have thought I was crazy. But I didn't care.
I remembered back to all the times I had thoughts of becoming a pancake. Every day my mom would wrap her arms around me and just squeeze.
"I want you here, Blaire. I want you here with me."
It was like she had mind-reading powers.
"I'm sorry," Lucas said. It broke my trance and made me remember that it was a pink-haired juvenile delinquent that I was hugging. Not my freaking mom.
Why he hadn't pushed me off of him by now, I had no clue. Instead, his body felt relaxed, like he was sunbathing or stretched out in a jacuzzi.
Sure, this was hella awkward, but I think Luca realized that I seriously thought he had jumped and I needed a minute to recover from it.
And when he hugged me back, well, it was nowhere near as hard as I hugged him, but still . . .
He held me.
Not like my mom does. Or an ex-boyfriend from the past.
He held me like one would hold a baby bird. Like he didn't want to let me fall, but he didn't want to crush me either.
When I let go of him, he looked down at me with less wonder and something more like mild intrigue. Or maybe my subconscious just wanted to believe that his lazy grin and hooded gaze meant something more than friendship.
Maybe when he asked me to call him "Luca" instead of the name on his schedule, he was asking me to stay close to him. That he trusted me.
Or maybe he just felt bad for me. Because of how epically I had just embarrassed myself . . . again.
The last thing I needed was the hot new guy feeling sorry for me. It didn't feel like that was the case, but when it came to Lucas Brighton, I never knew what the hell was going on anyway.