Free Capture the World by R. K. Ryals Page A

“It’s not for everyone.”
     
    Despite Bailey’s treatment of him, I doubt he has issues in the female department. “You don’t have trouble with girls.”
     
    He smiles. “You saying I’m hot?”
     
    I can’t help it, I chuckle, sobering almost instantly. “He made my mother cry,” I whisper.
     
    “What?”
     
    “He made my mother cry. My mother doesn’t cry. Ever. Not since … she just doesn’t cry.”
     
    Matthew nods.
     
    “Hey, Moretti!” Carl Pace shouts, jogging toward him, a group of other guys from the basketball team behind him.
     
    “That’s my cue,” I say, and before he has a chance to stop me, I leave, racing down the hall toward my first class feeling like I’d said too much.
     
     
     
    “SO YOU’RE SCARED?” Gracie asks, falling in a graceful heap to the school lawn, her sky blue peplum top fanning out over her blue jeans despite the navy blue jacket open over it. “Perfectly reasonable.”
     
    Setting a blue, floral lunch bag on the ground, she pulls out a blue frosted cookie, a Ziploc bag full of blueberries, and a piece of bread. Tearing open a blue pixie stick, she empties it onto the slice.
     
    Lunch is always interesting with Gracie.
     
    “I’m not afraid of being friends,” I argue.
     
    She eyes me. “Aren’t you?” Folding the bread in half, she takes a bite out of it, ignoring the students near us who, upon seeing it, pack up their lunches and move. “Look, I’m always scared in new relationships. Not like I can help my incredibly cool OCDness, right? Well, there’s meds, but a little blue never hurt anyone.”
     
    Try telling that to her mom the year she drank out of a bottle of Windex because of the color.
     
    “I mean, they do have blue condoms.”
     
    “Gross!” I pretend to gag. “And anyway, I’m not in a relationship with Matthew Moretti.”
     
    “That’s not what I hear.” She grins, flashing blue-stained teeth. “Hashtag couple.”
     
    Do these people ever stop? “Hashtag give me a break.”
     
    “That one was trying too hard.”
     
    “Whatever. People assume too much.”
     
    “It is what it is.” Gazing out over the yard, Gracie sits up taller, eyes on Dexter Holloway. He’s a junior, a year under us, and almost as unique as Gracie, his spiked red hair the only thing he manages to get away with during school hours. After school, he’s insanely colorful.
     
    Overhead, the sky is overcast, threatening rain, and I keep glancing at it, worried. Not for me. Storms don’t frighten me.
     
    “Now he’s cool.” Gracie points at Dexter. “You should hang with him. Hell, we should hang with him. Who gives a shit about Matthew or any of them anyway? I certainly don’t.”
     
    “He came over to see Mom last night.” I drop the words, fast and hard.
     
    Gracie freezes. “Wait, what?” Lunch forgotten, she leans toward me. “Matthew Moretti? Why didn’t you tell me?”
     
    I shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal. He was really good with her actually.”
     
    “No one is really good with your mother, except you, and maybe your aunt.”
     
    Her words sting, but they’re true. Mom doesn’t accept new people easily. Especially after what happened with Bradley; the way he’d laughed at her, the way he’d mocked her, and the memories he’d brought back up. It still hurt. I blame myself for it, and yet here I am, doing it again, bringing someone new—someone I know less than Bradley—into the house.
     
    “She liked him, I swear.” I hate the defensiveness in my voice.
     
    Gracie has never been near my mother longer than a few minutes. It’s uncomfortable for her, but she does come to my house often.
     
    She frowns. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around all of this is all. So is Matthew like your new bestie now? Or your boyfriend? Or what?”
     
    “No!” I cry, the wail less than convincing. “I just met him.”
     
    “You’ve known him your entire life.”
     
    “You know what I mean.”
     
    She