26

                                    

                                          
I'm just about to join Hanna and Luke in the cafeteria for lunch when Harry crosses my path from out of nowhere, not even two steps past the soda machines. 
                          
"A ninety-eight," he beams. "Huh?" I ask, feeling my face twist up. "On the French quiz," he explains , giving his back a good pat.
                          
"It would have been a hundred, but I screwed up with the le-la-masculine-feminine thing."
                          
"That's great," I say, "about the ninety-eight, I mean."
                          
"So, where have you been? I've been trying to call you. I wanted to give you the good news."
                          
"Right," I say, suddenly remembering how my mom mentioned that he'd been trying to reach me. "Things have been sort of intense lately."
                          
"Anything you want to talk about?" I shake my head and peer over his shoulder, noticing Hanna and Luke already sitting in our designated spots. 
                          
I wave, and Hanna gives me a thumbs-up, but Luke, obviously still miffed about our last conversation, barely even nods in what would have to be the saddest attempt at a nonverbal greeting ever. "So, I hate to ask you this," Harry continues, "but, any chance you can help me again for the next quiz? I mean, I know it's a hassle, so if you want, I can pay you."
                          
"No," I say. "It's fine."
                          
"Are you sure?" He continues to jabber on, something about not wanting to let his grades slip and some scholarship he's applying for. I'm only half listening. 
                          
Because Zayn just walked in. 
                          
He takes a seat in the corner, but he isn't eating. Instead, he opens a book and starts to write something, but I can tell he's faking it, because he's staring right at me now.
                          
"You still fixated on that guy?" Harry asks, following my glance. I shake my head , reluctant to tell him about our date, especially since I doubt we'll be going on anymore. "I guess I didn't realize he had this lunch period," I say, practically stuttering. 
                          
"Probably because he spends most of his lunch periods in the library, at least, that's what I heard. I also heard that parents have been calling the school like crazy to get him kicked out."
                          
"For real?"
                          
"It's not exactly a secret. Didn't you hear about that freshman girl, Jacklyn, or Jamie, or something like that...? She said he was following her the other day. She made a big scene about it, started crying and saying her parents were going to sue. Everybody wants him gone."
                          
"Apparently so ," I say, motioning to Ethan Hawke and a pack of his soccer buddies.
                          
They're standing in a huddle just a few feet behind Zayn. "What do you think they're up to?" Harry asks. I shake my head just as Ethan approaches Zayn, soup bowl in hand. 
                          
He pauses right behind him to await more attention. And it works. People start snickering. The lemmings are pointing. Mr. Muse, the gym teacher, turns his back, pretending not to see anything. 
                          
Ethan raises the bowl high above Zayn's head. "No!" I shout, from somewhere deep inside me, I have no idea if the word actually comes out. By the time Zayn notices, it's too late. 
                          
Ethan has dumped tomato soup down the front of Zayn's shirt. It drips down in a muted red patch, covering Zayn's chest, as if his heart were bleeding out. 
                          
Someone yells out that Zayn murdered another girlfriend.
                          
Someone else coughs out the words killer go home. And it's high fives all around for Ethan Hawke and his cohorts. Still, Zayn doesn't fight back.
                          
He merely wipes his shirt and sits there, pretending none of this bothers him. It bothers me, though. And so, without even thinking, I grab a stack of napkins and head over to his table. "Can I join you?" I ask Zayn, sitting down before he can answer. 
                          
"I don't think I'll be sticking around," he says. "You're not going to let them get to you, are you?" I motion to Ethan and his friends, including John Blair, my guitar-playing neighbor, now sitting at the next table over.
                          
John glares at me with those giant brown eyes, wondering, maybe, why I'm sitting here. And maybe I'm wondering the same thing. "Why do you think I'm being as calm as I am?" Zayn asks.
                          
"Good question. Why are you being this calm?"
                          
"Because they expect something else. But I won't give them that. I won't give them a reason to expel me. I need to be here."
                          
"Need?" He nods. "By the way, you're not having the soup today, are you?"
                          
"I think you've probably had enough for everybody," I say, passing him the stack of napkins. "You don't have to do this."
                          
"You're covered in Campbell soup heinousness," I say. "It looks like you could use a little help."
                          
"No. I mean, you don't have to do this, commit social suicide over me." I glance over at Hanna and Luke, a full five tables away.
                          
Hanna tosses her hands up, silently asking me what I'm doing. But I look away. "I'm not the one who needs saving, remember?" he continues. 
                          
"You mean, what happened in the parking lot?" He stops wiping his shirt and leans in close. "I mean what's going to happen if you're not careful."
                          
"Are you the one who called me Saturday night?" He shakes his head, his eyes widening. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
                          
"No," I say. "There's something that you need to tell me. What were you thinking by showing up at my house and telling me my life is in danger? That's not exactly normal, you know."
                          
"I was thinking I want to help you."
                          
"Well, you have a funny way of showing it."
                          
"I'm not your enemy here, April."
                          
"Did you leave me that gift and the note?" His face knots up in confusion. "What gift? What note?" I take a deep breath, trying to be calm, but my heart is pounding, and I keep fidgeting in my seat. "Is this some weird plan of yours to try and get close to me?"
                          
"I want to help you," he repeats. I look around the cafeteria, noticing how the commotion has eased up a bit. "You have something to tell me, don't you?" he asks.
                          
"I don't know." I glance up at the clock. Only three minutes before the bell rings. "How about we get together tonight? Will you be free around six?"
                          
"I have to work."
                          
"Then how about tomorrow?" I shake my head, suddenly feeling the urge to flee. "Just say yes," he insists. "I can't."
                          
"Is it because you're afraid of me?" I bite my bottom lip, not knowing what the right answer even is. Zayn tries to touch my forearm, but I pull away just in time. "I have to go." 
                          
I get up from the table. "That isn't an answer. Come meet me tonight." I shake my head and turn away, before he has the chance to ask me anything else. 
                          
Before I have the chance to change my answer to yes.
                          
· · ·
                          
Say yES daMmIt. 
                          
Vote and comment my little loves <3
                          
~ Malum