She chatted the entire way, mostly to draw his attention away from the fact that everyone was staring.
But even more unsettling were the gapes and stares they got from the people at her own table when she and Grady sat down. Together.
“Really?” Gemma leaned in, getting close enough to her ear that Grady couldn’t hear her. “Now the two of you are BFFs?”
Violet shrugged the other girl off, the way she’d tried to do with everyone else all day. She didn’t need her own friends making things worse. She didn’t need their judge-y attitudes too.
She leveled her gaze on Claire and Jules and Chelsea, daring each of them, as pointedly as she could, to say something. Anything. And then Jay joined them, and she directed it at him too.
Not a word, she hoped the look conveyed, in no uncertain terms.
But Rafe didn’t get the memo, and he was right at Jay’s heels. “Killer jacket, man,” he told Grady as he dropped down next to Chelsea, directly across from Violet.
Chelsea choked on the chocolate milk she’d been chugging, and came up sputtering. Jules reached over and patted her on the back, entirely too hard to be any kind of serious attempt to help her friend.
“Oh my god, Rafe, did you have to go there?” Violet admonished.
Rafe shrugged. “What? It’s a nice jacket.”
Violet glanced at the letterman’s jacket Grady was wearing and tried to imagine a world in which Rafe might actually envy it. This certainly wasn’t that place.
“It’s okay, Vi,” Grady said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Might as well get it over with. I figured I’d get some crap about what happened. But being back here was way worse than I expected. At least he’s talking to me.”
Rafe lifted his brows at Violet as if to say, See?
“A little warning, next time? I think some of that milk went up my nose,” Chelsea complained, pretending to scowl at Rafe. But she wasn’t fooling anyone. A scowl from Chelsea was as good as an eye-bat from any other girl. She was definitely flirting.
“Must suck to be back,” Rafe offered Grady. “This isn’t exactly the most open-minded place I’ve ever been.”
Grady shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich. “It beats the hell outta going to juvie, I guess.”
Rafe half shrugged, half nodded. It probably was better than juvie, the gesture said, but also, whatever. Rafe’s usual response to just about everything.
Gemma caught Rafe’s attention then, from the other side of the table, and whatever message she was trying to convey to him, Rafe seemed to understand. He nodded and reached into his pocket. Violet watched as his hand dropped to his lap, his focus directed downward. He was checking his phone.
Gemma elbowed her too, a quick, discreet nudge that no one else should’ve noticed.
Except that someone had. Someone who’d been watching Violet a little too closely all day. Someone who was a little too fascinated by her, and what she could do.
Chelsea.
“What the frik was that all about?” Chelsea asked, falling into step beside Violet.
Violet glanced up at Jay, who was on the other side of her, and he looked back at her, puzzled. “What was what, Chels?” he asked.
“Okay, one,” she started, ticking off her list of complaints, “I wasn’t talking to you. And two,” she continued, looking meaningfully at Violet now, “I’m talking about that weirdness between you and Rafe and Blondie. That’s what.”
Inwardly, Violet sighed. Outwardly, she braced herself. This was exactly the part of her ability she’d avoided discussing with Chelsea: her team.
“It wasn’t anything. I don’t know what you mean.”
Chelsea stopped, and Violet considered forging on and pretending they’d lost her in the crowded hallway. But this was Chelsea she was talking about. She’d have to deal with this mess sooner or later.
Besides, Jay stopped too, and was now looking from Violet to Chelsea. “I’m pretty sure I missed something. Are you two fighting or something?”
“Nope,” Chelsea stated, frowning now. “And apparently I was the one who missed something.” She leaned close to Jay, so close that Violet had to backtrack in her steps to hear what she was saying. “But don’t worry . . .” Chelsea poked him with her elbow. “I know everything now. Violet told me her little secret. Or”—she narrowed her eyes at Violet, who was right beside them now—“I thought I knew everything. So what gives? Don’t tell me Rafe knows too. And that girl?”
“Shh!” Violet hissed, dragging Chelsea by the arm away from the rush of students, not wanting anyone to overhear what they were talking about.
Violet turned to Chelsea then, her words coming from between gritted teeth. “I told you, it’s a secret,” she stressed.
Chelsea nodded. Eagerly. Wide-eyed. “Okay, yeah, and I was thinking we should have a secret handshake. Like a gang.” She held her hand out to Violet, palm out, but Violet slapped it away.
“Are you kidding me with that? A secret handshake? Are you five? Come on, Chelsea, this is serious. You have to be careful.” Her voice bordered on hysteria. “You promised I could trust you.”
Chelsea straightened up, dropping her hand. “And you totally can, Vi. I was just kidding about the handshake. I mean, kind of. You can count on me. I swear I’ll never tell anyone.” She met Violet’s gaze directly. “Swear.”
Violet watched her, studying her, considering her words and the earnestness of her expression. And then she sighed, her shoulders sagging and her stomach unknotting, just a little bit. “Thank you,” she said softly.