Made You Up (20 page)

I
couldn’t stop smiling at Finnegan’s the next day. The customers definitely left me bigger tips, but that could’ve been because I wasn’t staring at them like they were bugged.

Tucker noticed.

“Why’re you so happy?” he grumbled, shoving bills into the register. The register shook when he slammed the drawer closed.

“Am I not allowed to be happy?” I asked. Still, I wiped my smile away. Guilt knotted my stomach. I wanted to tell him what I’d learned from June, but this was the most he’d spoken to me in days. I grabbed Finnegan’s 8 Ball.
Did I do something wrong?

My sources say no.

Tucker glanced sideways at me. “You’re acting like you
won the lottery. Just tell me it doesn’t have anything to do with Richter.”

“Fine. I won’t.” I’d apologized a million and one times. I’d taken shifts for him at work, done my own discussion papers during English class, and hadn’t asked him for a damn thing. I didn’t care if he was mad at me. He had no right to comment on what I did with Miles.

He turned to face me. “You’re kidding. You’re still hanging out with him, after he did that to me? After everything he’s done?”

“It’s none of your business what I do with him, Tucker.” I lowered my voice so the couple sitting at the closest table wouldn’t overhear.

Tucker hesitated. “
What you do
? What are you doing with him?”

My entire face must’ve been as red as my hair. “I said it’s none of your business, didn’t I?”

Tucker’s voice dropped until he was whispering. “You are
shitting
me. You slept with him?”

I pretended to check the cash register. “We’re together, okay? That’s all you need to know.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the kitchen. “You have no idea what he’s going to do to you! He’s not a normal person, Alex! He doesn’t understand how what he does affects other people!”

For a moment all I could do was stare at him. I’d had a snappy comment ready, but he hadn’t said what I expected. He hadn’t said,
“He’s a dick”
or
“He’s evil incarnate.”

Tucker had been through this before. Not exactly the same circumstances, but . . . Miles had hurt him a long time before I’d met either of them.

“I—I’ll be fine, Tucker.” I pulled my arm from his grip. “I’ll be okay.”

Tucker shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. He shouldered his way past me, muttering something I almost didn’t catch.

“I hope so.”

I’ll be okay, won’t I?

Without a doubt

D
ad didn’t seem to feel too bad about losing driving duties on Monday; he actually gave me a sly grin as I walked out the door.

I didn’t know what I expected. Maybe for Miles to look happier than he did? Maybe for him to give me a reason to disbelieve what Tucker had said? It had only been a day since I’d last seen him, and I hadn’t tried to quell the riot of excitement in my stomach. But as I climbed into the passenger seat, he only gave me the weakest smile before he dissolved into a sort of humiliated depression. He had dark bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” He stared straight ahead as he drove.

I didn’t say anything else until we’d parked and were
walking toward the building, and I noticed that he was doing his best to conceal a limp.

“Why are you limping? What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened—I’m fine.”

“Miles, what did he do to you?”

“Don’t worry about it!” he snapped.

I shrank back. We didn’t talk all the way to first period English, and when we sat down in our seats, a few snickers came from Cliff’s corner of the room.

“Hey, Richter,” Cliff called, “those Allies finally kick your ass?”

Miles gave Cliff the finger and laid his head down on the desk.

I stared at his back and his sandy hair, and my heart sank until it rested somewhere below my navel. Maybe I’d gotten my hopes up too much. Maybe Tucker had been right. Maybe that trip had been a one-time thing. Maybe he didn’t. . . .

Stop thinking about him, idiot!

I looked at the flickering fluorescent light over my head, then at my classmates, fresh from winter break.

Celia’s hair had turned a strange, moldy mixture of yellow and brown, but it was still green at the tips. She wore East Shoal sweats, and her blue contacts were gone; her eyes were brown. Her face looked weird until I realized
it was because she wasn’t wearing makeup. Even though she had no makeup on and she was acne-ridden, she was pretty.

Why did she try so hard?

Everyone was talking about her, making jokes and snide comments loud enough for her to hear. She just sat there, staring at the top of her desk, her eyebrows pushed together. She didn’t seem to want to kill me. Or anyone. She didn’t seem to have much fighting spirit left at all.

A tiny part of me, the part that forgot it had witnessed her screaming about her burning hair, and screaming about not getting what she wanted, and screaming about her friends, felt bad for her.

Miles slept through all our classes that day. Even if he didn’t usually make an effort, he never just
slept
. The teachers must have realized something was wrong, because they didn’t try to wake him up. Five minutes before each bell, he’d rise like the dead and shuffle on to the next class. Someone called him “Nazi” in the hallway after fifth period, and he just kept on walking.

I didn’t like seeing him this upset. So when we left chemistry and headed for the gym, I shifted my books over to one arm and took his hand, threading our fingers together. I stood on my toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. For a few seconds, a real smile lit up his face.

It was gone by the time we got to the gym, though he still held tight to my hand. The club sat in a group on the bleachers, and a few feet away from them sat Celia. We’d all known this was going to happen, but no one seemed particularly happy about it.

“Hey, Boss. Alex,” said Evan.

“Got something you want to tell us?” Ian asked, pointing to our hands.

Miles looked down as if he’d forgotten he was holding my hand, and then looked back up at Evan and Ian and their impish grins, and said quite plainly, “No.”

I shook my head, let go of Miles’s hand, and went to sit next to Jetta.

“As you probably all guessed, Hendricks is doing community service with us now.” Miles waved a lazy hand in Celia’s direction. She shot him a look, but it was gone in an instant.

“Can’t you do anything, Boss?” asked Theo. “Can’t you get her sent someplace else?”

“I don’t like it,” Miles snapped, “but I’m not a miracle worker. McCoy’s own damn rules got her put here, and trust me, he wasn’t happy about it, either. It’s one semester—just deal with her. Evan and Ian, I’m leaving her under your control. Make sure she’s doing something. Everyone else, normal stations.”

Evan and Ian looked at Celia with twin expressions of glee on their faces, and then dragged her along to the storage rooms to get the ball carts. Jetta left to watch over Art’s wrestling practice in the auxiliary gym, and Theo retreated to the concession stand. I started to follow her, but Miles grabbed my sleeve and gently tugged me back.

“You’re with me.” He motioned toward the scorer’s table.

We sat down and got stat charts and rosters ready until the basketball teams came in and warmed up. I watched Celia the whole time as Evan made her sweep the gym floor by herself and Ian made her put new bags in all the trash cans.

When she was done, she sat down in the bleachers. Seconds later, her mother breezed in through the doors, blond hair swinging against her back. Celia didn’t even look up when her mother stopped in front of her and began hissing.

“What are you doing now? Wallowing?”

Celia stared at her feet and said nothing. Her mother continued, casting a shadow over her. “You could have had everything, Celia. If you had done as I said, you could have had your pick of any college. Any one you wanted. You could have had everything. But now you’re off the cheerleading squad, forced to spend time with these
delinquents
—”

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Miles said. “I’m not used to dealing with . . . uh . . . not used to having someone to—”

“—and instead of trying to get back on top, I find you mooning over that
boy
—”

“—so yeah, it was him. Were you worried? I didn’t mean to—”

“—I can tell you right now, Richard will have a thing or two to say about that. He’s not going to let
my daughter
keep herself from her full potential—”

“—don’t have to worry about it, okay? Everything’s fine—”

“—Richard’s going to put everything back in order. He’ll make sure you’re worthy of carrying on my legacy. And if that boy stands in his way, Richard will have him
removed
.”

Miles pulled on my hand, jerking my focus completely to him. “You’re shaking. Why are you shaking?”

“I’m just . . . nervous. And I feel bad for Celia. Her mother seems terrible, and McCoy . . . I want to tell someone, but I don’t know who would listen.”

“Maybe McCoy will slip, and we’ll have evidence that something is going on.”

Celia stood on the bleachers across the gym, staring back at us. Her mother had gone. When she saw me looking at her, she bolted down the stairs too fast and tripped the last three steps.

“You’re an obstacle,” I said.

“What?”

“Celia likes you.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“And McCoy and her mom think it’s a bad thing. They think you’re . . . impeding her potential, or something. And they really don’t like it.”

He hesitated. Doubt pressed his eyebrows together. Even Miles had a limit to his suspension of disbelief, and I’d been paranoid long enough to know I was pushing it.

“I know how it sounds,” I said, “but I heard it straight from them, and I’m really afraid McCoy is going to hurt you. I’m not going to do anything stupid or weird or . . . just please tell me you’ll stay away from him?”

He lifted my hand and held it against his chest. “I told you I’d be careful, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.”

Celia wiped her eyes and shuffled toward the door.

“What’s she doing?” Miles rose from his seat. I pulled him back down again.

“Let her go,” I said. “She’ll be back.”

Sure enough, about ten minutes later, Celia wandered back into the gym, her eyes redder and puffier than when she’d left. She sat down on the very end of the bottom row of the bleachers and stared at her hands. She looked . . . broken. Like the crazy bitch in her had finally died and left a shell behind.

June was right. I needed to talk to her.

S
he tried to go down one of the back hallways after the game.

I didn’t figure it’d be hard to stop her. Two words and she’d turn and pounce on me. But when I threw open the doors and called out her name, she looked over her shoulder, eyes wide, like she was afraid
I
was the one going to kill
her
.

And then she ran.

I chased her. I guess being a cheerleader had its perks— she was in better shape than me. But I knew where she was going. When we hit an intersection, Celia turned right and I kept going straight. I came out on the west side of the school, jumped down the handicap entrance ramp, and made it to the northwest corner in time to catch Celia in the stomach with my arm. My momentum slammed her into the wall.

“Stop . . . running . . .” I said, panting. She glared at me, rubbing the shoulder that had hit the brick.

“I . . . have to . . . ask you something . . .”

“So ask me,” she snarled.

I took a deep breath. “McCoy. What’s going on . . . with McCoy?”

Celia’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Look, I know about your mom. And I know about McCoy. I know he calls you down to his office all the time, and he’s obsessed. If . . . if he’s doing something, you should tell someone about it.
”

For half a second, real recognition flashed across Celia’s face. But then her expression twisted and she bared her teeth.

“You don’t know anything about me.” She pushed me back. “Get out of my face. And don’t mention Rich Dick McCoy or my mom to me again.”

She shoulder checked me hard enough to make me stumble backward and almost lose my footing. I thought about following her again, questioning her until she admitted that something was going on, that she needed help, but I already knew.

I’d taken something she loved. She would never trust me.