Or maybe that necklace didn't work as well as he and my dad thought. Or perhaps it did work--perhaps Daniel was fully conscious when he did those things...
I stood outside the art room until long after the bell rang. I knew that Daniel was in there. Enough people had been talking about him for me to know he'd shown up for school. I wished he hadn't. I took three deep breaths. Daniel wouldn't hurt those people if he was in his right mind. There was definitely another explanation--and it wasn't my job to figure it out. Someone else could play Velma from now on.
I pushed the door open and went straight for Barlow's desk. I put my tree sketch in front of him and didn't wait for any comment before I went to the back of the room for my supply bucket. Lynn and Jenny stopped talking as I approached. Lynn shot me a sidelong glance and then said something to Jenny behind her hand. I ignored them and pulled my watercolors out of my bucket. I could feel Daniel's presence only a few yards away; I could smell his earthy-almond scent even with all the oil solvents and chalk dust fingering in the air, hut I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I grabbed the rest of what I needed and joined April at our table.
"I called you, like, ten times," April said. She didn't look at me as she drew sharp, angled lines in her sketch pad. "You could have at least emailed me back or something."
"You're right." I opened my box of pastels and dumped out the chalk bits on the table. I'd forgotten that most of them were broken. "I'm sorry."
"So are you over it?" April nodded slightly toward Daniel.
"Yeah." I picked up a red pastel bit. It was too small to draw with effectively. "I think so."
"Good." April put her charcoal pencil down. "Jude says Daniel is a bad influence on you."
"What else does Jude say these days?" I asked.
She sighed. "He's upset that your dad keeps trying to get him to be friends with Daniel. Your dad says Jude should just forgive and forget, and be happy Daniel's back," April shook her head. "I don't get it. I mean, Jude's his real son. Why would he even want Daniel here?"
"I don't know," I mumbled. My mind flitted back to that book of letters in my bedroom. "Has Jude said anything else?" I asked, wondering how much April really knew about any of this.
April shrugged. "He invited me to the Monet exhibit at the university tomorrow night."
"That's sweet." I inspected another broken pastel. It was just as useless as the first.
"Yeah, but my mom won't let me go because it's in the city. It's like she suddenly cares about me after what happened to Jessica Day or something." April crinkled her nose. "I think we're just going to have a movie fest at my house. You can come, too, if you want."
"No. But thanks anyway." I'd seen enough of Jude and April snuggling to last me a lifetime.
April pulled her box of pastels from her supply bucket and slid it in front of me. "You can borrow mine if you want." April gave me a small smile. "I really am glad you're better now."
"Thanks," I said. But I glanced back at Daniel. His gaze was shifted away from us, but from the look on his face it seemed like he'd been listening to our entire conversation from across the room.
That didn't make me feel better at all.
LATER THAT SAME DAY
Daniel had asked me to spend my lunch breaks and after school with him and Barlow. I doubted that offer still stood--or that he'd actually expect me to stay now--and I cleared out to the library when the lunch bell rang, refusing April's offer to join her and Jude at the cafe. I stayed until it was time to go back after lunch. When fifth period was over, I took off as quickly as I could for my next class.
"Wait up, Grace," Pete Bradshaw called as I approached my locker.
"Hey, Pete." I slowed my pace.
"You okay?" he asked. "I said your name three times before you noticed."
"Sorry. I guess I was a little distracted." I put down my backpack and turned the combination to my locker. "Did you need something?"
"Actually, I wanted to give you something." He pulled a package out of a plastic bag. "Donuts." He handed me the box. "They're a little stale, though. I brought them yesterday, but you weren't here.'"
"Thanks ... um ... What are these for?"
"Well, you still owe me a dozen from before Thanksgiving. So I thought if I got you some instead, you'd feel extra indebted to me." Insert "triple threat" smile here.
"Indebted to do what?" I asked coyly.
Pete leaned forward. His voice was low as he spoke. "Is there something really going on between you and that Kalbi guy, or are you just friends?"
Something really going on? Now I was sure people were talking about me.
"Don't worry," I said, "I don't even think we're friends."
"Good." He leaned back on his heels. "So these donuts are supposed to make you feel guilty enough to go to the Christmas dance with me."
"The Christmas dance?" The dance hadn't passed my mind in days. Did people who knew the secrets of the underworld go to dances? "Uh, yes. I would love to go," I said. "On one condition, though."
"What's that?"
"Help me eat these donuts, or I'll never fit into a dress." Pete laughed. I opened the box and he snagged three donuts.
"Can I walk you to class?" he asked as I shut the box in my locker.
I smiled. It was such a 1950s-perfect-hoyfriend thing to ask. "Sure," I said, and hugged my books to my chest and pretended I was wearing a poodle skirt and oxford shoes. Pete wrapped his arm around my waist as we walked down the hall. He nodded to more than a few quizzical-looking people as we went.
Pete seemed so confident, so normal, so good. He's just what I need, I thought as I watched him--but I couldn't help noticing there was someone else watching me.
WEDNESDAY OF THE NEXT WEEK, JUST BEFORE LUNCH
I sat next to April in the art room working on a preliminary sketch from an old snapshot for a portfolio piece. It would eventually be a painting of Jude fishing behind
Grandpa Kramer's cabin. I loved the way the fight swept in from the side of the photograph and glistened off the top of Jude's bowed head like a halo. But for the moment, I was working with pencils, sketching out the basic fines and defining the negative and positive spaces. There was more shadow in the picture than I had realized, and the graphite of my pencil was worn down to a useless nub, but I was avoiding the pencil sharpener in the back of the room because Daniel's seat was only three feet away from it.
A few minutes before the lunch bell, Mr. Barlow made his way over to Daniel's desk.
"Look at Lynn fume." April nudged me.
Lynn Bishop glared at Daniel as Mr. Barlow stood beside him, watching him paint. She looked like she was trying to burn a hole in Daniel's back with her eyes.
"Looks like Barlow's got a new favorite. Poor Lynn," April said with mock sympathy. "You're totally better than she is anyway. You should have heard Barlow going on about that sketch of your house you turned in last week." She pointed at my drawing and sighed. "I love this one, too. Jude looks so hot in that picture."
"Hmm," I said. I gathered up a couple of spent pencils and made a break for the back of the room while Daniel was occupied.
I put a pencil into the sharpener.
"Stop!" Barlow bellowed.
I jumped and looked behind me but Barlow had been speaking to Daniel.