"How was your weekend?" Robert asked on Monday morning. We were sitting in English class waiting for Mr. Reiner to make an appearance; he was late, as usual.
"Shit," I muttered, rubbing tiredly at my eyes. "It was really shit. Dad took me on an impromptu bonding trip, and, well, it went about as well you'd expect."
"Yikes." Robert frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry, man."
"It's okay," I said, and it was. My taut relationship with Dad wasn't anything new, and after how tense Robert had been last week, I was just glad things were back to normal. "You feeling confident about this English reflection?"
"Hell no." Robert grimaced at the thought. "I had the most awkward conversations with my partner. I doubt they even skimmed my book. Not that I read theirs." He shrugged. "So it's like, what am I supposed to write? 'This assignment was stupid. The end.'"
"Aw, don't say that," I laughed. "You'll hurt Mr. Reiner's feelings."
He grinned. "Screw him."
The door opened suddenly, and we turned as Assistant Coach Meadows walked in.
"Sorry for the interruption." She frowned as she scanned the room. "Where is...?"
"Mr. Reiner?" Robert supplied. "He's, ah...Late."
"Probably stocking up on porn magazines," Bryce chimed in, laughing obnoxiously.
Coach Meadows coughed disapprovingly. "...Thankyou, Mr. Greene. Well, you and Mr. Smith will just have to get one of your classmates to cover for you. Coach Wesley wants you two down at the field."
"Aw, yes," Bryce cheered, standing abruptly. "Suck it, English."
"Oh hell yeah," Cash added, standing too. "I am out of here. Cash, out."
"He is aware he sounds like an ATM machine, right?" Robert drawled.
"Shouldn't you be going with them?" I teased. "Since, you know, you are a fake member."
"Ouch, dude." Robert made a pained face. "Too soon."
I laughed again, but as we lapsed into silence, my eyes travelled to Cash, and I let myself look at him for the first time that morning as he left the room. I always put extra care into seeming disinterested during English class, just in case, but now I let myself scan him from head to toe, drinking in his tall, broad frame and golden hair.
I might not get to see him for the rest of the morning, I thought, trying to comfort myself, but at least I'll get to see him at lunch.
And that's enough for me.
- - - -
As it turned out, I got to see Cash earlier than I'd anticipated.
As Robert and I were exiting English fifty minutes later, a loud voice began to fill the hall, drawing the attention of passers-by's.
"Oh come on, Cash. Surely you've gotten over it by now."
I froze, my stomach sinking. I knew that voice.
Casey.
She was leaning against a stack of lockers, deeply engaged in an argument with Cash. Her voice was raised, but she was smiling in a way that suggested she knew she'd already won the argument.
"I think it's time we put this thing behind us," Casey continued, twirling a blond curl around one finger. "Let's just move on, okay?"
"I...I don't know, Case," Cash murmured, staring at a point in the distance.
He didn't know?
"You don't know?" she scoffed. "Don't strain yourself. We both know thinking isn't your strong point."
I winced involuntarily.
"Yikes," Robert mused. "I almost feel bad for him."
"Look, I can't do this right now," Cash muttered, with a tad more conviction. "I'll see you later, okay?"
He walked away, weaving through the small group of spectators that had started to form. But as he rounded the corner, he glanced over a shoulder, meeting my gaze for a split-second before the crowd swallowed him up.
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