Free Birdie by M.C. Carr Page B

mind.
    “I think I’m just stressed over school,” she says. “I think the teachers from all the different departments come together and have a huge meeting and bunch their projects together so they can watch us squirm.”
    “Well, don’t take it out on me. Or her. She’s actually pretty nice.” Rachel shoots me a look and I explain, “She works at the library. So I see her sometimes. And Lacey likes her,” I add, gesturing.
    “Lacey likes everybody,” Rachel mutters bitterly.
    “No, Lacey is eclectic. She likes different kinds of people. Not everybody.”
    I actually at one time thought that Lacey and I might have a thing. She seemed more my style with her don’t-give-a-shit attitude and her brazen confidence. But she’s been tangled up with Ben, the valedictorian book nerd, since freshman year and after several platonic smiles and shoulder punches, I stopped seeing her that way. It also helped that Rachel latched onto me from day one and finally wore me down last year when I decided to give the boyfriend role a try.
    I flick some stray grass off my pants. Birdie has been eyeing me all through lunch and I’ve been pretending not to notice but concentrating so hard on not looking back at her has taken so much of my attention, I don’t even know what Rachel was telling me before we switched to her dislike of the new student.
    Mostly, I’m puzzled. I’ve seen her everywhere around school since I spotted her that first day in the parking lot and she’s looked right through me. She’s always reading, or staring past everybody like she’s thinking about something or concentrating on school work. Only when Lacey comes into the picture does she remember she’s not walking around this school by herself. Earlier in the week, she left me doing one of those pitiful half waves you begin to say hi to someone, then awkwardly stop moving your hand but leave it up in the air when you realize it’s a one way exchange.
    I’m sorta jealous of Lacey. How’d she crack that shell so easily?
    “If Lacey likes her, I’m going to see what she’s all about,” I say suddenly. Rachel narrows her eyes at me, her soup spoon pausing en route to her mouth.
    “What for?” she demands.
    “Why not? She’s new. It looks like she doesn’t have a lot of friends. We only have a handful of months left of school. We should make her feel welcome.”
    The corners of Rachel’s mouth curve down in an irritated scowl. “I’d rather stab myself.” My producing a plastic knife from her lunch cooler only deepens her scowl further.
    I laugh lightly and toss it back in. “Then by all means, avoid her like the plague. I’m going to make an effort.”
    I hop off the table and give her shoulder a quick squeeze before heading to my next class as the bell rings.
    I can feel her glare burning into my back but I don’t care. Now that I’ve voiced it, the air around me hums and the rightness feeling rolls off me in waves.
    Birdie and I are going to be friends.
                 

             
    Birdie
     
    The knock comes before my butt even hits the sofa.  I sigh, setting down my pizza and scrambling back up.  I would have ignored it but there haven’t been any visitors yet since I’d been here and I don't know the protocol, if Tim is the type to turn the TV up and ignore it or pick up every ringing phone and answer every knock.
    Wesley Lott is standing on the other side of the screen. Okaaaay…
    “Hi,” he says, sticking his hands in his jeans pockets.  “Is the sheriff home?”
    “No. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”
    I start to close the door, but he presses his hand to the screen.  “I came to see you.”
    I crack the door back open to the original angle and squint at him.  “Why did you ask for Tim?”
    Wesley shrugs.  “I thought Sheriff Dobson was going to answer the door.  And I would have asked him if you were home. But since you answered I just…switched it.  Wow, I’m sounding more and