“That’s, uh, that’s smart.” I pick up my pencil and fiddle with it, trying to figure out what is going on. I’m not sure if Harrison and I have ever spoken before. Maybe freshman year? We had Algebra together, I think.

“What are you working on?”

“Calculus.” I try to think of something else to add to my answer and come up empty. I feel like I’m being rude by doing nothing to carry the conversation, when really I’m just too shocked to come up with anything substantive.

“Do you have Mr. Danvers?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Uh-huh. Seventh period.”

“Did you guys do that derivatives competition last class?”

Harrison laughs. He has a nice laugh. It’s deep and husky. Genuine. “Sure did. It was probably—”

“You’re in my seat, Baker.”

There’s surprise on Harrison’s face when he glances up at Holden, who’s suddenly standing next to the chair opposite me. I’m sure there’s some on mine as well. I really wasn’t sure if he would show up. And despite everything I said yesterday, I think he knows I would lie for him.

“Your seat, huh?” Harrison replies. “You could just find another table, Adams.”

“Cassia’s helping me with something.”

Harrison glances at me, seemingly for confirmation. I give him a small smile but say nothing to endorse or deny Holden’s story.

I’m surprised Holden admitted to that much. Linked us together in some way, when he’s tried to separate us as far as possible ever since we started high school.

“All right, I’ll leave you guys to it. Good luck with those integrals, Cassia.” Harrison smiles, surprising me again.

I manage a “Thanks” before he stands and walks away. Immediately, the seat is filled again.

Unlike Harrison, Holden doesn’t bother with any small talk. He rifles through his backpack and pulls out a few crumpled papers, placing them on the table between us.

I study his face, trying to catch one emotion in the shifting kaleidoscope. Holden is hard to read. He always has been, and it’s made the few times I’ve caught a definitive glimpse seem more meaningful.

We stare at each other.

Holden speaks first. “You into him?”

“He was just being nice.”

That response earns me an eye roll. “Don’t be naïve, Cassia.”

“I’m not. Besides, I wouldn’t do that to—” I cut myself off, remember who I’m talking to.

Sydney and Holden aren’t close. Not in a confrontational or resentful way, but a distant one. They’re just two very different people, despite sharing DNA. When we were younger, it often felt like I was the strongest connection pulling them together. That string was severed a long time ago—by the boy sitting across from me.