Before I could respond, Malachi’s eyes swept across the parking lot and landed on my car. I sank down in my seat, praying his eyes wouldn’t stray to Tegan’s BMW, hoping the sun’s glare would keep him from seeing me if they did.

“Whoa. All is not well with the Russian hottie?” she asked. “He looks almost as unhappy as you do.”

I slumped in my seat. “He’s not Russian. And no, all is not well. And also: I don’t want to talk about it.”

She leaned back in her seat and slumped a little, too, so her head was level with mine. She nudged me with her elbow. “Fine. But I’m here, all right? If you ever do want to talk.”

“Are you serious? You want to listen to my boy troubles?”

“Meh. Not really.” She flipped me off again.

I nudged her back, hard enough to make her wince. “That’s more like it. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. It’s going to be awkward today with Aden, but I’ll deal with it.”

“I sympathize.”

We got out of the car and looked over the now crowded lot. A bunch of baseball players were having an animated conversation over by Ian’s huge cherry-red SUV. Greg was gesturing wildly, and in his hand was an iPhone. No more crappy flip phone for him—and it looked like he wanted everyone to know it. Ian appeared to be listening to him with good-natured patience, but his eyes kept moving over to me and Tegan.

“He was worried about you on Saturday,” Tegan said as she waved at him.

I looked away as Ian’s gaze landed on me. “It was nice of him to show up at all. Have you talked with Aden since he no-showed?”

She made a gagging noise as she flashed a death glare at Aden’s hapless teammates. “Ugh. Yes. He’s such a creep. He came over to my house Saturday night and tried to get me to go out with him. He was so pushy and weird that my dad threatened to call the police if he didn’t leave. Dad says I should get a restraining order. Hang on,” she said as she fished her ringing phone from her purse. “Oh my God! This is, like, the fourth time he’s called me this morning.” She held it up to her ear. “I told you to delete my number,” she hissed. “I—what? Why would you want to talk to her?” She stared at me.

Then her eyes grew wide, and she turned sharply to look up at the school. I followed the line of her vision, up the side of the building, until it landed on a figure standing on the roof.

“What the hell are you doing up there?” she shrieked into the phone. “What? No—what? Don’t—no; whatever, sure, here she is! Here she is!”