“Well, yeah.” I take a step forward. “It’s an HIV support group. I was really nervous about—you know—telling you.”

“Oh.” It’s hard to read his expression. His hands are in his pockets, and he stares up at the seagulls flying around in the air.

My cheeks are hot. Group never seemed embarrassing before, but then again, I’ve never talked about Group to a boy before. Hell, I barely even talk in Group. I almost wish I hadn’t said anything—but then I never would’ve had the nerve to tell Miles. He needed to know everything even though it was nerve-wracking as hell; I’m glad he knows. But that doesn’t make me less embarrassed. Ugh, screw Ralph.

“Wait.” His hand reaches out, grazing mine. “Simone.”

I allow myself to glance up at him. His smile isn’t as happy as it usually is. It looks like his mouth wants to frown and he’s fighting it.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” I say. “And I promise I didn’t say anything weird. I just wanted advice.”

“I don’t…No, that’s not it.” He swallows. “It sounds like it took a lot for you to tell me.”

“Yeah.” I scratch the back of my head. “It did.”

“But I’m glad.” His index finger traces patterns on the back of my hand. “That you did it, I mean. I’m really, really glad.”

Suddenly, it’s hard to swallow. I spent so much time worrying about what he would think and how he would react. Never did I let myself even consider the possibility of this. I lick my lips, glancing down at our hands. It’s only been a little while, but I’ve gotten used to how they look when they’re intertwined. They complement each other.

“Me too,” I say, voice thick. “I’m glad you listened.”

CHAPTER 22

“You still use your locker?”

“Well, yeah,” I say, spinning the combination. “When did I say I’d stop?”

It’s only mid-November, but it feels like the rainy season has already started. Kids drip through the hallways, toting raincoats and umbrellas. Lydia manages to wear her raincoat the entire day like it’s a fashion statement. Claudia just doesn’t care. Currently, she’s trying not to make eye contact with me, like she’s been doing ever since I ditched them at GSA.

I expected her to ambush me, rant about what a horrible friend I am or something, but she never did. She’s just stopped talking. Lydia glances at her every once in a while, like she’s trying to encourage Claudia to speak to me, but it doesn’t work.

She can’t ignore me forever. Right?

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea since you started getting those notes,” Lydia says. “It doesn’t feel right. Like you’re falling into a trap.”