Mezzanine

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"You got into a fight with Andy Davis?" Carter exclaimed as he swung his locker open.

I leaned against the cold, maroon painted metal of my own, right next to his, and pressed the ice pack the nurse gave me against my eye. "He provoked me." I shrugged. "You know he had it coming."

"Yeah, and I'm sure you were completely innocent in all of it," he muttered under his breath.

"Of course."

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. "So, now you have detention next week, in addition to a death wish?"

"Maybe," I replied. "Okay, yes. Both."

Carter rolled his eyes. "You're crazy, Jay."

I smiled at him with the half of my face I could feel. "I will take that as a compliment."

Yet, an uneasy feeling pressed at the back of my mind, along with the dull ache pounding around my eye socket. I'd never hit anyone before, no matter how much I'd wanted to. I could hardly remember what happened after the fight broke out. It was almost like there was something else in me influencing the way I was thinking.

Was it just Andy's emotions I was feeling?

Was it something more than that?

A shudder ran down my spine as I watched the other students milling around the halls. Their thoughts created a humming buzz that made the aching behind my eye even worse. Unlike the strange hush that had fallen on the bus as we passed the factory on Ninth Street, things were back to normal...or as normal as they could be.

"You're going to get yourself hurt one of these days if you keep doing that," Carter scolded.

"Oh relax," I said, shaking myself from my thoughts. "I wasn't in any real danger. Andy Davis couldn't punch a hole in a paper bag."

"Well, he did a pretty good number on your face, so evidence begs to differ. Either way, it's not worth getting in trouble over. Andy isn't worth your time."

I licked my teeth, tasting a hint of blood still leaking from my upper lip. I adjusted my grip on the ice pack and removed it from my eye to keep my entire face from going numb. "What is worth my time?"

Carter's gaze drifted to the group of girls headed down the hall: the cheerleaders. Front and center, Lola Mendez led the squad, her painted, candy-apple-red lips parted from a perfect pout as she laughed along with her girlfriends.

"Lola, maybe," Carter suggested.

My eyes involuntarily went to my backpack, where my notebook was stashed. He was right, for reasons he wasn't even aware of. I needed to talk to Lola...but how?

"Yeah, right." I turned to my locker to keep him from seeing how uncomfortable I was getting. After putting in the combination—which I had set to six-six-six because why wouldn't I—I swung it open and pretended to search for a book I wanted to bring home.

"You're always looking at her. It's not like you hide the fact that you're interested."

I shrugged. It was a good cover. I just had a crush on her—that was it. The best lies are always the ones that are partially true, right? She was drop dead gorgeous, and I'd be crazy not to be interested in her.

"This is what I like about you, Carter," I said. "You don't bullshit around. You always say what's on your mind. Sure, she's hot shit. I'll admit that. But what do you know about girls, anyway?"

Carter pulled a history textbook from his locker and shoved it into his sapphire blue backpack with his initials embroidered on the back: CAT, for Carter Alexander Turner.