"I don't want to take up your lunch period," Mr. Wolburn says as soon as they're gone and I'm standing before him in the empty classroom. He sits at his desk, his back straight with his hands folded in front of him as he asks, "How are you doing so far?"

I stay quiet. It usually works with most people who rush to fill the silence by answering their own questions.

But not him.

Mr. Wolburn stares, his gaze intense until I flush with heat at the tension growing between us. The words shake loose in my throat.

"I'm fine." 

It's not true. I hate being here. I hate having to talk to people when I don't want to... Including him.

"I want you to come see me tomorrow morning before class. Early," he adds. "So we have a chance to talk." He gives me a sympathetic smile, his hooded gray eyes lingering on my face for way too long. "You've missed quite a lot. We can talk about a plan to get you all caught up."

"Can we just do it now?" I say, not wanting to go out into the hall where Nick and his friends might be waiting. "I'm not hung..."

He glances to the door and I see a girl from class—Emily, I think he called her—standing there, biting her lip, waiting to speak to him.

Mr. Wolburn gets to his feet and packs up his stuff. "We can talk in the math office," he tells her before he gives me a small smile and heads out to the hallway to her.

I stay in the classroom longer than anyone should. I stop at a desk and dump out everything in my bag. It's an excuse to wait for the halls to empty, but also a necessity since the accident with Nick threw everything out of order.

When I finally brave the hallway, I can hear my steps on the shiny linoleum tiles—squeak, squeak, squeak—with only the din coming from the open cafeteria door, dulling the noise. I turn away from the sound of voices and veer into a stairwell. One look out the window at the trees behind the school and I'm pushing my way outside.

The lunch period is only forty minutes, but I spend it exploring the grounds. It's chilly, so there's no one out here where a large sports field sits, edged on one side by a wooded area and on the other side by the parking lot. I choose the gray metal bleachers farthest from the cars, but when I sit on the lowest bench, I feel too exposed.

I end up sitting behind the bleachers instead, on a blanket of dry leaves with my back against a thick cement pole. As I stare into the tree line, I watch the branches sway. The gentle movement is mesmerizing. Thick charcoal clouds mask the sun. The temperature has dropped since this morning and the wind blows straight through me, cooling the cells in my lungs. I breathe in; hold the cold in my throat and exhale it like invisible smoke from a cigarette.

When the bell goes off letting me know lunch is over, I stay put.  It's immature and cowardly, and Dad will piss himself if he finds out I missed so much school—especially if he knows I missed biology since it's not my strongest subject. But I can't face anyone else. It's just too much. Too many people. Too many eyes. Besides, I couldn't stomach the idea of what biology class might bring, with Nick there waiting to 'help' me.

The bell rings when I'm in the middle of chapter fifteen of the mystery Dad assigned me. It takes some time before vehicles leave the parking lot. There are a lot of stragglers. I wish I knew what they had to talk about after so many hours together. When only a handful of students remain, I rise, stretching to remove the kinks and wipe the dirt off my jeans.

I'm shivering as I re-enter the school and creep past the office. With my breath held, I round the corner. 

I hope to God Nick isn't waiting for me, ready to offer his 'help' again.

He isn't.

But someone else is.