“You can all go to hell,” I say to them.

“Watch your mouth, Julian.” Evan separates himself from the rest of his group.

“Screw you, Evan,” I say, taking a step toward him. My gut tightens. Just looking at his smug little face pisses me off.

“That’s not necessary,” Elijah whispers next to me, putting his hand on the crook of my elbow.

“Come on, who made that comment? So big and bad until someone calls you out. Was it you?” I pull my arm away from Elijah and put my finger in Evan’s face.

Evan just chuckles and rolls his eyes at me.

“Hey, please don’t make a scene,” Elijah says quietly. “It’s really okay.”

“Maybe you need to learn some manners,” I say, jutting my chin toward Evan.

“Let’s just go dance,” Elijah says, pulling on my elbow a little bit. “Please.”

His please is more of a demand than a polite request.

I walk away, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. The music pounds through the speakers, and Elijah and I join a whole crowd of kids on the dance floor.

“I can’t stand that guy,” I tell Elijah, looking back toward Evan and his cronies.

“He’s not worth getting into a fight with, though,” he says.

“How can you just let him say stuff like that and brush it off? Doesn’t it make you mad? Those stupid rumors are bullshit,” I tell him.

Elijah just shakes his head. “That’s been going on my whole life, Julian. You’re just noticing now?”

I turn to glare at him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the same thing that happened with Ms. Birdie yesterday. And at bingo,” he says. “Why do you think I was upset earlier about the pills?”

I clamp my mouth shut before finally admitting a lame “Oh.”

A little bit of guilt starts to chew at my insides. My dad was really well-liked in Meridien. So is Birdie. I don’t really carry any of the burdens that Elijah does, mostly just because of his last name. Maybe he was right earlier—I really don’t understand.

“Hey, let’s have fun,” he says. “Don’t worry about Evan or any of that stuff. I’m rocking this shirt and these sunglasses, and I’m not letting them go to waste.”

An old Wham! song comes over the speakers, and Elijah starts moving his hips and his feet in time with the music. A bunch of kids bounce around us in a big group, and the lights flash and pop. I try to copy Elijah’s moves. I am not a natural dancer.

He notices and starts to do more intense steps. He’s laughing, and I’m laughing when the song ends. Someone bumps into me, and I lurch forward just a half step toward Elijah.