“I didn’t get grounded.” I hoped I’d find a new normal soon with my parents because as much as I didn’t want to be in trouble, I didn’t want them to feel guilty forever and it seemed like that was going to be the case for a while. They were walking on eggshells around me and it wasn’t good.

“Oh, Hadley, come on. Years of neglect. You need to collect the guilt-parenting perks while they last. They’ll be gone soon.”

I shoved her arm.

“How are you and Jackson?”

My heart clenched. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He hasn’t called begging for forgiveness?”

“No.” He’d erased every trace of me from his life. He’d walked away. He was done.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” But I wasn’t sure it was.

Amelia and I walked our separate ways to first period. I needed to drop by my locker and pick up a book. My locker was outside the B building, fourth row down. Today the row was fairly empty. A blond girl at the end was piling books from her backpack into her locker. She gave me a smile as she exited. I turned the dial on my lock and opened the door. A clear plastic cup sat inside, its bright green contents immediately making my mouth water.

“You’re still on sugar, yes?” a voice from above me said, and I yelped, nearly dropping the Slurpee. I backed up, until I bumped into the row of lockers behind me, and looked up. Sitting on top of the lockers was Heath Hall.

“You were right.” He tugged at the neck of the mask with his right hand. “This thing is hot.” In his left hand he held a Slurpee. He took a sip through the small hole that made up the mouth on the mask. “It’s a good thing I have a favorite drink that is nice and cold.”

My fear dissolved but was replaced with the anger that had been competing for space the last couple days. I’d had a really hard weekend and he hadn’t even checked on me. Instead, he’d walked away and now was making a joke out of what I assumed was his apology.

“Someone once told me that all good apologies are accompanied by a bribe.” He gestured toward the Slurpee I held. I stepped forward, retrieved my math book out of the locker, and shut the door. “How did you get this in my locker?”

“I have a few people on staff that like me as well.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Ms. Lin?”

“I hear she’s your mentor. Knows all about your inner artist. And gets to keep locker combinations in case her poor students forget them.”

“And apparently she gives them out to anyone who asks.”