Vice Principal Terrier couldn’t do anything to Cressie—she wasn’t a student—and though I caught him staring at me with murder in his eyes a couple of times, he couldn’t do anything to me either. Through some tense PA announcements, he did make it clear that anyone caught with their phones out during the school day would lose them. Typically, that was a rule applied to the classroom only, but something was bubbling beneath the surface at Green Creek. So, things were changing fast and on the fly.

Fine by me. I could do without all the attention-by-association over Cressie’s channel. Like, sis, you did your four years here. Don’t make mine harder.

The week settled into the mostly normal routine.

Purity Pledge had its own difficulties as word about the CU trip spread to the group, and disappointment when I told them everyone couldn’t come—I could only fit four in my car—spread faster than that. I was surprised by all the pouting over my denial, mostly from the Burton Brothers, who, for some reason I couldn’t comprehend, thought I’d allocated two spaces for them.

In the church lot, our breath puffing in the autumn air, Jameer expressed some personal concerns about how his parents thought we’d all be studying together at the library on Saturday.

I said, “Look, we hit the road fifteen minutes after the library opens. We’re at the university in time for the panel, then we’re back here an hour before they pick you up. Who’s going to tell them different?”

He motioned toward the sanctuary, to the chatty bunch that wouldn’t be going with us.

“So what do you want to do about it?” I asked.

“What if I could find a way to get everyone there?”

“Whatever you need to do.” I was going, and my passenger seat was reserved for Kiera. I wasn’t concerned with the other logistics.

I should’ve been.

Wednesday night, I managed another Shianne “tutoring” session to get some pocket money before we made the drive to CU. Thursday, I pulled another (short) shift at FISHto’s—I’d forgotten my belt, stupid, I know, and my pants were too loose, so I took orders one-handed and with the other hand kept them from falling and showing my customers what color boxers I had on. Tyrell sent me home, but with a warning. “No more messing up,” he said. “It hurts everybody when you aren’t doing what you’re supposed to do.”

It pissed me off. I had a lot on my mind, and the belt thing was an honest mistake. Maybe next week I’d see if McDonald’s was hiring.

By Friday I had tunnel vision. All of the uncomfortable feelings from Tavia baring her soul, Cressie turning into Green Creek’s Oprah Winfrey, and Taylor continuing to scorch the earth had subsided. Some. It wasn’t on my mind, anyway.

I washed the ride, copped a crisp Hawaiian Breeze air freshener, and stayed up late putting together a perfect shuffle-ready playlist, nothing overtly romantic, but nothing super ignorant either. Sleep was a rough affair, the anticipation of Kiera time somewhere Mason, or Colossus, couldn’t pop up felt, well, divine.