Carly could handle the tickling curious looks from regular people, but the bully’s spotlight pressed hard. Dylan wasn’t the beat-you-up kind of scary. He was just mean. And he was on all the time. Ready constantly. A real asshole. She wanted to say it, to give him the finger and coolly walk out. She daydreamed the scene right where she stood, with Ada and everyone else looking at her, waiting for their cues. She imagined rolling right out the door and leaving Dylan to deal with the drag of half the crowd’s expectant attention and the air-sucking awkwardness of the other half who were averting their eyes.

But the load was all hers. She owned the hope of everyone pretending they weren’t leaning in for the payoff—either a sad story for them to tell in school next week about the poor picked-on girl, or a triumphant one about the whip-snap burn served up by the one who didn’t care at all about a reject like Dylan Davis.

She hated that she couldn’t do anything but crumple up inside and wish she’d never come in here.

“Let’s just go,” Ada said, close and low.

They hadn’t set down their snacks or even stopped long enough for it to be a real spectacle yet. They could just keep going, almost as if it weren’t happening. It would be the next best thing to being awesome. Awe-some.

Of course, the next best thing to awesome would feel like a total loss, but Carly let Ada pull her along anyway.

“Hey, Carly! Why’d you kick your boyfriend in the head? Might’ve been your only chance.”

She heard Dylan step out behind her, cutting loose from his circle and sliding into her empty lane. Ada was a length ahead, still carving a path for them to the door. Carly sensed the gap behind her and turned back. It didn’t matter. No one’s closeness would have made it anything other than just him against her. He’d steered it that way on purpose. It was his talent, making a show out of people who didn’t want it. He’d already won the first round.

The ones who laughed made Dylan bold. So did the ones who didn’t, holding in their exhales so as not to miss anything. They couldn’t help it. They were just like her, everyone breathless to know what came next. They were exactly as uninformed about what he would do as Carly was, and just as riveted, only not in the crosshairs.

Carly could almost feel the rise of his blood in him, so like her own, but in a different chamber of the heart altogether. He wanted to strike as badly as she wanted to turn to smoke and blow away.