Somehow Pete’s mere presence in my world warmed me in parts of my body I didn’t even realize were cold, like my heart. It had been like a dying battery inside my chest, slowly draining of life, until Pete jump-started it again. With every brilliant smile, he lit me up from within. It was a gift, his presence, in this small town, in my life. Every moment with him was like Christmas morning. But I’d pushed him away like yesterday’s leftovers. Had I been so focused on hating Ranger, his organization, and my total lack of options in life that I’d been staring too hard at the gift horse in my life?
Mama said to trust my instincts because they’d never lead me wrong. But in this case, my gut was giving me mixed signals. I felt completely safe, cared for even, around Pete. The picnics were proven benign, as well as thoughtful, by my conversation with Andrew. And I sensed that he truly did like me and didn’t want to see any harm come to my family.
Could it be he was in the dark about the sinister intentions of his own organization? Anything was possible, I decided. I sighed, feeling confused and frustrated by my lack of clarity. The bell did its thing, and I shuffled along after my classmates.
Ashley-Leigh came sidling up, chirping in my ear. “Hey! Where’s Pete? . . . And where’s your glasses?”
“He opted out of class this afternoon,” I said, deflated, “and I broke them.”
Immediate suspicion paused her. “How?”
My blush and pained look must’ve been answer enough because she said, “Lover’s quarrel already?”
I just shrugged my shoulders, remaining tight-lipped.
“You poor thing.” This was followed by one of her famous face-smashers. “You know you can talk about it with me, right?”
“Right.” Wrong! No way was I gonna admit that I threw myself at him only to be rebuffed—she’d only gobble it up and ask for seconds.
“And I’ve always got your back, Katie-Kat.”
“I know. Thanks.” I smiled thinly at her bold overstatement of loyalty. I tried cutting her some slack because she probably at least halfway meant it in the moment.
“I mean it. You can tell me anything . . .”
“There’s really nothing to tell.” I scrounged for an exit. “Look, I gotta bolt. I’ll see you in gym, okay?” I made a hard right at the next corner and left her behind. It’s just, I was so bad at lying, and Ashley-Leigh was so good at weaseling her way into getting what she wanted.
I sleepwalked my way through Chemistry, dully writing notes and avoiding so much as a glance at Miguel’s sulking face. As soon as the bell rang, I darted out the door, hustling to P.E. with my head down, wondering if it was my imagination, or if everyone was starting to look at me differently.
My question was soon answered because upon my appearance in the dressing room, everyone’s heads whipped around like I was famous . . . or like I’d just been the topic of conversation. Sure enough, Ashley-Leigh decided to migrate to the Siberia side of the room to chat with her old buddy today. “Hey there. Feelin’ any better?” Now I was the recipient of a weird back pat.
I mumbled something about being tired, then started changing from my discount-denim into my sale-shorts. She hovered around my personal space, watching me undress, hoping I’d drop some more gossip crumbs for her to gobble. I’m sure she was also sizing me up to see what a guy like Pete Davenport could possibly see in me. That’s most likely why everyone was starting to stare now. My face grew pink as she ogled my figure, looking for flaws. She caught my awareness that she was checking me out so blinked her eyes away to focus on unstrapping her ridiculous wedge sneakers.
“You know . . . I think I like you better with glasses—they give character to your face,” she said. Like her opinion was the last word.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied as I knotted my sneakers. They of course reminded me of the one responsible for paying for them. I grunted to myself.
“So, why didn’t you mention that Pete was Andrew’s mentor?”
I smiled darkly, shook my head. I should’ve known that little secret would spread like wildfire. If Ashley-Leigh knew, that meant everybody knew. “How did you hear that? Did Miguel tell you?”
“No.” She waved her hand airily. “You know how it is—Marie Walter’s son is in class with Andrew. Drew told him, he told his mom, who told my mom. What can I say?” She shrugged her shoulders. “We barely have two degrees of separation in this town.”
I huffed out a laugh. True dat.
“Why the big secret anyway? And why would you tell Miguel and not me?” She infused her voice with hurt but ended up sounding self-centered to my wizened ears.
I did the shrug thing. “He asked me in English today.” Ashley-Leigh stuck out her gloppy lip like a two-year-old, so I added, “I would’ve told you, too. I just happened to talk to him first. And it’s not a big secret . . . we just like to keep quiet about Andrew’s giftedness.”
While we wrapped our hair into practiced ponytails, I had a vivid flashback to when we were kids. So much had changed my life was almost unrecognizable. “And you know our family well enough to know Daddy wasn’t exactly keen on the school sending his aptitude tests to all those boardin’ schools.”
“Why’s he thinkin’ about this one then?”
“Dunno,” I admitted. “I guess cause it’s supposed to be the best military academy in the world.”
“Wow!” Ashley’s eyes popped out of their sockets. “So does that mean Andrew might go to the same school as Pete?” She sounded as excited as if it were happening to her.
I slammed my locker, hoping to shut down this little convo, too. “Well presumably, if Pete graduates this year, he will no longer be there. But yes, it’s the same school.”
“Dude! I always knew your brother was, like, a baby genius or somethin’, but I never thought it would lead to somethin’ so . . . so glamorous!” she said, eyes shining.
“Right,” I replied dryly. “Our life is very glamorous—us, the cows, and the trailer—we’re just a ball gown and a brass band away from an award show over at the Connelly house.”
She bapped my arm. “Oh you know what I mean.”
“Not really.”
“Think about it . . .”—she framed her hands to create a marquee—“The World’s Most Elite Military Academy. That is so glamorous. I mean just look at Pete—can’t you imagine him in a tux at some fancy party with, like, foreign diplomats or somethin’?”
“Uh, I actually think they wear blues and not tuxedos. It’s a military academy . . . not Hollywood.” I rolled my eyes at her, but I knew what she meant. There was something very sophisticated about him.
“Ooh! Even better! I just adore a man in uniform!” Ashley-Leigh declared, every bit the D-list actress she was destined to be. “If the other . . . what do they call ‘em at military schools?”
“Cadets,” I supplied.
She snapped her fingers, and I noticed a crystal was glued onto one of her nails today. Honestly, where did she find the time? “Cadets. If the other cadets at his school are even half as cute as Pete, then sign me up! You can ship me off tomorrow—UPS overnight, baby!”