20

Claire stuck close to her new friends—make those protectors—for the rest of the school day. One of the girls would save a seat for her at the front of the class.

She sighed, martyrlike. Such suck-ups.

Though they obviously didn’t trust her any farther than they could throw her—except for maybe Lily who could throw her, that is—they stood by her and escorted her on a sort of rotating sentry duty through the congested hallways to class.

Figuring there was something to be said for safety in numbers and liking them no better than they liked her, she nevertheless accepted their physical support. Surrounded by the geeks, her usual crowd left her alone, avoiding her as if she had the plague. No one, least of all her, wanted to be seen associating with this group. Not unless she had to.

But beggars couldn’t afford to be choosy.

Claire fought tears off and on all day. Who knew you could be so lonely in a crowded high-school chemistry lab?

At last, the three o’clock dismissal bell rang and surging masses of teens hurtled through the doors to buses, the parking lot reserved for juniors and seniors, or to begin the walk home.

As soon as her feet hit the bottom step, her current guardian, Anna, slipped away without a word. Claire stood motionless like one lone salmon attempting to stop the headlong swim upstream.

“Claire.”

She pivoted to see Justin waiting for her at the corner. He waved her over. She all but ran to him.

Breathless, she fell into step beside him. “I hope your day was better than mine.”

Justin adjusted the strap of his book bag to a more comfortable setting on his shoulder. “Good to see you’ve still got your sense of humor.”

“Barely.”

“My day was okay. My friends had a few questions but . . .” He shrugged. “It’ll be better tomorrow.”

She panted with the effort to keep pace with Justin’s long strides. He’d soon be taller than Dad. Her mouth drooped. Than Dad had been. “Maybe for you.”

Justin rounded the corner toward home. “I see you made some new friends.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. That’s me, Miss Congeniality, and my so-called bosom buddies.”

Justin stopped mid-sidewalk. “Don’t make any more ene-mies, Claire. I know those girls’ brothers. They’re good people.”

“If you say so, brother dearest.”

“Claire, listen to me, please—”

At the sound of honking and yelling, they wheeled around. A black BMW, creeping over the curb, headed straight for them. Zoe Lawrence, a junior, drove. Hanging out of every window were at least two jocks and janes. In the backseat, Heather Lawrence leaned out the window over the roof of the car anchored in place by Tad Ewell.

Claire tapped her foot in sudden fury against the pavement. How high some had risen upon the occasion of her social demise. Tad had been her date at the February Sweetheart Dance, much to Heather’s chagrin.

The car pulled alongside her and Justin. “Claire. Wait up! Want a ride home?” Tad hollered.

Justin tugged at her arm. “Let’s go.”

“Look at me! Look at me!” Heather cocked two fingers to her temple and pretended to pull the trigger. “Bang! Bang! I’m dead! Just like your old man!” Her former BFF threw herself onto the top of the car with a thud. Shrieks of laughter erupted from inside the vehicle.

“Come on.” Justin positioned himself between her and the car. Grabbing her elbow, he hurried her down the street only to be followed as relentlessly as death by the BMW.

“My turn! My turn! Let me be the dead guy,” Tad hooted.

She felt a choking sensation as her chest tightened and the contents of her stomach rose.

“Don’t you dare let them see you cry,” Justin hissed in her ear. He hustled her past the neighbor’s house. Her baby in her arms, Mrs. Lambert stepped onto the porch as music blared from the radio of the BMW.

Catching sight of an adult, Zoe floored the gas pedal, almost dislodging her passengers clinging for dear life to the sides of the car. With a squeal of her tires, she rounded the corner out of sight and earshot at last.

The tears, hot and wet, cascaded down Claire’s cheeks. She kept her head tucked into her chest and allowed Justin to pull her into their driveway to the safety of the porch.

His hands shaking, he dropped the house key on the step where it bounced into the grass. Leaving her sobbing by the door, he scrambled on his hands and knees to find it. “It’s going to get better, Claire, I promise.”

But she knew he had no power to make it so. Because this was her new life after the world went crazy.