Free Bang by Lisa McMann Page B

you want to tell me what you were talking about?”
I keep the puzzled look on my face. “Let’s see, we
    talked about the weather warming up, we talked about our
    work schedules—me and Trey at Demarco’s Pizzeria, and
    Sawyer at Angotti’s Trattoria—” I add, in case it helps.
    “And, gosh, I don’t know,” I say, looking at the boys on
    either side of me. “My psych project, maybe? TV shows,
    video games?” I start throwing out random things, hoping
    one of them will save me.
“Call of Duty,” Sawyer says. “You ever play?” He looks
    at the cop. “It’s kind of violent, but . . .”
The cop doesn’t answer. He looks at me and my cast,
    and then at the scratches I almost forgot I have on my
    neck. “You’re the Demarco kids who saved this guy’s parents’ restaurant,” he says, flicking a thumb at Sawyer.
“Yes,” Trey says. “Well, it was mostly Jules.”
I blush appropriately, for once. “You’re our beat cop
    when Al has his days off, aren’t you?” I ask.
“Police officer,” Principal Grimm corrects.
The cop grins for the first time, rolls his eyes without
    the principal seeing. He pockets his little notebook and
    adjusts the gun on his belt. “Yeah, I’m your fill-in beat
    cop,” he says to me, and then he turns to the principal. “I
    think we’re done here.”
The principal’s eyes flicker, but he nods. “Thank you,
    Officer Bentley.”
The cop leaves, and then the principal looks at us. He
    clasps his hands together. “Well. You may go.”
We all stand up and file out to the reception area.
    Principal Grimm flags down Miss Branderhorst to write
    us excuses to get back into class.
Once we’re in the hallway and my heart starts beating
    again, I let out a staggered breath. I don’t dare say anything or even look at Trey and Sawyer. When we turn the corner, Sawyer puts his arm over my shoulders, and then
    Trey puts his arm over my shoulders and Sawyer’s arm,
    and I reach around both of their waists, and we don’t talk.
    Not a word.
Except for when Trey says, “All right. I’m in. But only
    to keep you bozos from getting killed.”
Nineteen
    After school Trey and Sawyer head to the library
    while I drive Rowan home.

    She observes me loftily. “Are you going to tell me what
    happened to your neck?”
My fingers automatically reach up to touch the
    scratches. “Oh. Stupid Roxie took something and I accidentally scratched her trying to get it back, so she lunged at me and scratched the hell out of my neck.”
“Wow. Well, I guess she’s probably jealous.”
I raise an eyebrow, check my speedometer, touch the
    brakes just slightly. “Of what?”
“Come on,” Rowan says. “Pay attention for once. She’s
    been in love with Sawyer for years.”
“Years? How would you know?”
“The same way you sophomores know more about
    the junior class than you know about the freshman class.
    Everybody watches up.”
I’m a little surprised at how delicious this news feels.
    “I thought they were just friends.”
“Please. Is anyone just friends? There are always other
    motivating factors in relationships. Maybe not constant,
    but consistent.”
I look at her.
She looks back at me, her face certain.
I shrug, wondering how she became such a philosopher all of a sudden.
“So now what?” Rowan says.
“Now what what?”
“Now what are you guys doing? You, Trey. Sawyer.
    Something’s up.”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
She flips the visor down and examines her face. “My
    flight is Sunday morning,” she says. She rummages through
    her backpack and pulls out a pair of tweezers, then starts
    plucking invisible hairs from her perfect eyebrows.
I haven’t thought about her flight. Or about her secret
    visit to see Charlie. I haven’t thought about her at all lately.
She continues. “So I’ll need a ride to O’Hare Airport
    while Mom and Dad are at mass.” She’s never flown
    before, and she says it like she’s bored.
“Impeccable timing. When do you come