“Come on. Everyone knows about the math thing. That just means you could get there early.” Her hand moved, and Layne kept her eyes fixed on her work so she wouldn’t have to watch Taylor touch him.

“How do they know about that?” His voice had a sudden edge.

“Please. The whole cheer squad knows. They’re working out a schedule to get you the homework.”

“Look. Forget it. I don’t need their help.”

“Sure sounds like you need someone’s help.” Taylor pulled lip gloss out of her bag and recrossed her legs, throwing her hair back over a shoulder. “Maybe you’d like a personal tutor.”

She said tutor like she was offering something completely different.

Layne told her brain to stop supplying images of Taylor and Gabriel making out while textbooks and papers fell to the floor.

Her pencil was ready to dig right through her notebook.

“Maybe,” said Taylor, her voice suggestive, “we could get to work tonight.”

Gabriel laughed a little, his tone equally suggestive. “Maybe I already have a tutor,” he said.

Layne’s pencil snapped against the paper.

“Who?” said Taylor.

“Layne.” He still wasn’t looking at her.

Layne felt like the end of that pencil had lodged in her throat.

“Layne,” said Taylor, putting a finger to her lips. “Layne. I don’t think I know anyone named . . .”

“Me,” snapped Layne. “My name is Layne.”

“But wait,” said Taylor in that sickly sweet tone. “Everyone here knows your name is butchy dykey les—”

“Hey.” Gabriel came halfway out of his chair.

“Excuse me.” Ms. Anderson was standing right there, almost next to Layne’s desk.

Layne flushed again and looked back at her math book.

“Sorry, Ms. Anderson,” said Taylor, her voice still sweet. “We were just talking about how much we love this class since you took over.”

The teacher pursed her lips. “Let’s settle down so we can begin.”

When the teacher went back to the front of the room, Layne tried to get her heart to settle down. What did he mean? He wanted her help now?

A folded piece of notebook paper landed on the edge of her desk.

She unfolded it to find Gabriel’s handwriting.

You don’t have to. I just needed
her to shut up.

Layne swallowed. He was so hard to read sometimes. Like with his phone number. Did this note mean he wanted her to help, or did it mean he wanted her to give him an out?

When she’d hugged him in the woods, his entire body had been tight, like he wasn’t sure how to react. She hadn’t imagined the emotion, the pain in his voice.

And then he’d pushed her away.

No. Wait. She’d pulled away.

This was so confusing—and her life was already full up on confusing.

Another note appeared on the corner of her desk. She unfolded it slowly.