Jacque rounds the corner with a pile of blankets in her arms. Her face lights up when she sees Stephen, and her pace quickens. “Hey, Growler.”
Stephen shoots me a look. “Uh, Oscar’s here too, Jacque.” He points to me.
I’m used to being ignored, and the fact that Stephen has to stand up for me makes me sad.
She bobs her head. “Right. Sorry. Hi, Oscar.”
I’m having the most difficult time concentrating. Her eyes seriously could be pools, which I know is such a cliché, but it’s completely true. And the girl smells like lemonade. Honest to God, she smells like it. It’s a breath of heaven in this hideous place.
“Can you hold on a second, Oscar?” She pulls Stephen a few feet away and whispers, “Their dad looks awful.”
Even though she says it in a soft voice, I overhear. I cringe at her obvious statement. He’s about twenty-four hours away from death—of course he’s looked better. At least she’s thoughtful enough to try and shield me from her thought.
Stephen nods and they walk back to me.
“Sorry,” she says, wincing. “I should’ve pulled Growler farther away. I know you heard me.”
Stephen draws in a huge breath and attempts to change the subject. “Did you do the stat homework yet? It sucks.”
Jacque shifts the pile of blankets to her side. “Great,” she deadpans. “I’m here till nine, and then I have to pick up my sister from ballet. All the way in Philly.”
“Philly?” Stephen says. “Aren’t there a bunch of dance places here in West Chester?”
She rolls her eyes. “She’s a Level Three ballerina at the Pennsylvania Ballet. She’s really good and all, but picking her up is a pain in my ass.” A grin spreads across her face. “Wanna share that stat homework with me, Growler? I’ll do the next one for us.”
Stephen shrugs, and Jacque wraps her free arm around his shoulders.
“You are the man!” she exclaims.
Again I’m in awe of this effortless exchange, the way she threw her arm around him without hesitation. It all confirms my awkwardness.
Marnie appears at the end of the hall and shooshes her. She whisks Jacque away, telling her she’s got blankets to deliver. Jacque turns and waves over her shoulder.
My stomach is in knots. Besides feeling crappy about my inability to interact with people, I am also pathetically superficial. I can’t believe I’m allowing someone’s looks and scent to affect me so deeply. If I was alone, I might have punched myself in the head. My lips tighten.
“I think you make her nervous,” Stephen says.
I laugh because that is ridiculous. “Nervous? I don’t think so.”
Vance says from behind, “What the hell are you guys doing out here? Did you come to hang with me or not, Growler?”