Free Crash by Nicole Williams

beliefs.
    “Yeah?” Didn’t seem that earth shattering to me.
    Taylor shook her head like I was hopeless. “Jude never ever, in a hundred million years, pursues a woman. He’s the pursued, not the pursuer.”
    This time it was my turn to shrug. “He’s just coming over to say hi.”
    “Exactly. Jude doesn’t come over and say hi to anyone,” she said impatiently. “I’ll repeat, he’s the pursued.”
    It felt like every eye in the cafeteria was pinging from Jude to me. This was high school hot off the presses drama unfolding right here. “I thought you just said if a girl cared about their reputation, they wouldn’t hang out with the likes of Jude. Isn’t that why I’m a bonafied slut in the eyes of Southpointe High’s fair, unbiased, give a person the benefit of the doubt population?”
    “Yeah, I said that,” Taylor said, eyeing Jude in a way that made me feel all territorial. “But haven’t you noticed that with guys like Jude, a girl just doesn’t care about her reputation?”
    There didn’t seem to be an appropriate answer to that, so I weaved out of her hold and headed for him.
    “What are you doing?” Taylor said behind me.
    “Going to say hi.”
    “You can’t do that,” she hissed, rushing forward and grabbing my arm.
    I wasn’t sure if this girl was doing drugs or had forgotten to take them, but she was starting to piss me off. “Listen. Taylor,” I said, spinning on her. “If my reputation can manage to get even sluttier by saying hi to someone, so damn well be it.” Tugging my arm free, I caught the beginnings of her wounded glare cast my way.
    So much for making friends.
    “Hey, Luce.”
    If I’d still had any back there, the hair on my neck would have stood on end. “Hey, Jude.” Composing whatever I was able to of myself, I turned. He was still grinning like this had been the best thing to happen to him all week and, other than the fresh scar cris-crossing his eyebrow, he looked exactly the same: dark clothes, dark hat, dark secrets.
    “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
    “Really?” I said, trying to act like we weren’t on a stage for everyone to witness. “I didn’t expect to see you here either, especially when the last time I saw you, you were being hauled away in a police car.”
    His expression twisted as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that. I suppose I’ve got some explaining to do.”
    “Some?” I said. “I’d say you’ve got yourself a mountain range of explaining to do.”
    “I know,” he said, his face shadowing. “I know.” Reaching for my shoulder, his fingers twisted in my hair. “Your hair looks pretty.” He pulled gently on the end of it, where it now barely skimmed my shoulders. I was lucky I still had any hair and just as lucky I happened to know the Annie Sullivan of hairstylists, but I missed my long hair every day. Every time I poured too much shampoo into my hand, every time I tried to tie it back into a ponytail, every time I reached for something to twirl around my finger. It was a shallow, even vain thing to mourn for, but I still did.
    “Pretty awful,” I replied, trying to tell myself the lightheadedness I was experiencing was due to an empty stomach and not the way his fingers slid through my hair. “But at least I’m not bald.”
    Jude laughed, the kind that filled the entire cafeteria. “If anyone could rock a bald head, it would be you, Luce.”
    “So when did you get out?” I asked quietly, looking around.
    “It’s all right. Everyone already knows,” Jude shouted, “what a good for nothing SON OF A BITCH I AM!” His voice thundered against the cafeteria walls, followed by a chorus of spoons clattering onto trays. “I got out a couple weeks ago,” he said in a normal voice, lifting a shoulder.
    I tried not to act thrown. “And you couldn’t call?”
    “Of course I could have called, Luce,” Jude said, his voice tight.
    “So you didn’t