Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [31]
I rationalized in my head all the way to McDonald’s, which Cisco suggested to calm Jenn’s raging hangover. She ran into the bathroom as soon as we sat down—and Cisco immediately leaned forward.
“So Miss Connor, do you think he got the point that his hoodie is in your locker?” His brown eyes twinkled at me.
“Shut up.” I frowned, balling up my napkin and throwing it at him. Cisco deftly blocked it, laughing.
“Seriously, though, what the hell was that about? You went on and on and on. And on some more.”
“I don’t know,” I wailed, dropping my head into my hands. My face made a smacking sound when it hit my palms. “I am so embarrassed! I went to say hi to him and he just ignored me. Jerk.”
“Okay, he wasn’t a jerk, per se,” Cisco began, “but I did think he’d be, I don’t know, warmer to you. Or something. You guys really got along on Friday.”
“He almost kissed me on Friday.” I sighed, then mumbled, “I probably just imagined it.” Cisco gave me a sympathetic look, and mouthed the word “Sorry.”
“Em, I got the vibe that he was into you,” Cisco continued, trying to make me feel better. “I thought he liked you. He doesn’t really hang out with anyone from school, except when he deejays at dances and stuff. The only reason Brendan came out on Friday was for you. Maybe he’s just having a bad day.”
I just shrugged and tore my French fries into little pieces, drowning them in barbecue sauce. Talking about it made my head hurt as much as Jenn’s probably did.
“We should get Jenn and head back,” I said glumly. “She’s been in there awhile.” And truly, I was starting to get worried. She’d spent almost the entire lunch break in the bathroom.
Once back at school, I tried to put Brendan giving me the cold shoulder out of my mind. I got to Latin class late so I wouldn’t have to face Ashley’s line of questioning, and after class I raced down to the dungeon so I could get his stupid hoodie and put it in his stupid locker, all the way up on the stupid fourth floor.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I muttered to myself, stomping to my locker in the very pit of the building. I flipped the combination lock and saw his hoodie hanging there. Mocking me. Great, someone had slipped a flyer for Halloween Movie Night in there. Oh, hi, paper cut, meet lemon juice.
“Scenes & Screams! This Friday, hold on tightly to your favorite person for our night of zombie movies!” the orange slip of paper shouted at me. I crumpled up the flyer and threw it in the wastebasket, then turned my scornful eyes on his hoodie. I flicked the sleeve with my finger, giving it a dirty look before grabbing it and running back up the flights of stairs until I got to the fourth floor. I walked along the hallway until I saw locker number 445. The lock dangled there, open, so I removed it and slammed the door open with such force, it bounced off the locker next to it and slammed shut again.
I hung my head back, exhaling loudly. I opened the stupid door again, this time more slowly, and reached in to hang the sweatshirt on the hook. I thought for a moment about leaving a note—Thanks for letting me borrow this. Here’s your stupid sweatshirt, you moron. I totally wish I’d spilled nail polish on this. By the way, do you have an evil twin?—when I figured I should say, “Thanks.” At least my behavior would be beyond reproach. I pulled a small notebook out of my bag and hastily wrote, “Thanks for the loan—Emma” on a scrap of paper.
Casting a quick glance around me and making sure no one was watching, I checked out the photos taped to his locker door. There was a picture of Brendan and some guy I didn’t know deejaying, and some group shot of a bunch of people in Central Park. No pictures of him with girls, at least—a small consolation. A small paper sketch of a medallion, taped in the bottom right corner, caught my eye.
“No. Freakin’. Way,” I said aloud. I reached around my neck and unclasped my necklace, holding