“I think you’ve been taking Officer Kapinski’s first day of school speeches way too seriously,” Camille says.

We walk Camille all the way home before doubling back and going toward Ms. Birdie’s. Julian’s. My temporary home. Whatever I should call it.

Once we drop Camille off, Julian and I don’t have much to say to each other. He seems lost in his own thoughts, but I can’t find anything to say, either.

Not only am I reeling from what he said about the cheerleader, but I haven’t been able to find a way to put Reece out of my head since Camille spilled that little gem at Burger Barn. The thought of someone else touching Julian and knowing him the way I wish I did makes my gut ache.

I should have been the one to make Julian his first homecoming garter. I thought about our kiss so often while I was away, and it hurts to think that Julian has someone else’s kisses, and who knows what else, to daydream about.

· eleven ·

JULIAN

I pull my polo shirt over my head this morning with just a quick glance at my ribs. The bruise is yellowing, and even though it’s still a little sore to the touch, it’s barely noticeable. I decide not to tape it up today and just pop a couple of ibuprofen before heading to the kitchen.

“Hi,” Elijah says, eating a granola bar at the counter with Birdie.

“Hey,” I say without looking at him. I bend down and kiss Birdie on the cheek.

“We’ve got the Powder Puff game today after school, Birdie,” I remind her. “Elijah’s going to help out, too.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m so glad you’re getting involved.” She reaches across the counter and squeezes Elijah’s hand. “I’ll be at the church this morning getting ready for the senior citizens’ potluck and the consignment sale, and then at a meeting with Pastor Ernie over on Main Street this evening. You boys are on your own for dinner tonight, okay? There are plenty of leftovers,” she tells me.

“You’re meeting with Pastor Ernie on Main Street? How come?” I ask her, peering into the fridge looking for something I can eat on the way to school.

“Oh, Pastor’s looking into doing something with that empty storefront next to Ron Redd’s.” She waves her hand dismissively.

“The empty storefront where Daddy was going to—”

“So, you’re sure you can make your own dinner tonight, then?” she interrupts, way louder than necessary. Her eyes are talking again. Right now, they’re saying, Don’t ask any questions; I’m not going to answer them yet anyway.