Chapter 38
Summer's POV
The afternoon sun hit my face as I stepped outside, and I had to stop and breathe for a second. The red brick of the administration building glowed warm in the autumn light, and I could see the third-floor windows where the physics competition classroom was.
Kieran was probably up there right now. Bent over some impossible problem set, his left hand flying across the paper because his right one couldn't keep up anymore, surrounded by kids like Logan who had no idea what it cost him to be there.
I wanted to go up. I wanted to knock on that door and tell him what I'd just done, wanted to see his face when he realized someone had finally, finally stood up for him.
But I couldn't. Not yet.
If he knew I'd sent that email, he'd feel like he owed me. Or worse, he'd feel like I thought he couldn't handle his own problems. Like I was some rich girl swooping in to save the poor scholarship boy, playing Lady Bountiful with other people's lives.
God, this was so much more complicated than I'd thought it would be.
I forced myself to walk away from the administration building, heading toward the student parking lot where Mia would be waiting to pick me up. My phone buzzed—probably Mia asking where I'd disappeared to during last period.
I'd tell her I went to the library. Which was true. I just wouldn't mention the rest.
Not yet.
---
The coffee corner near the student store was packed with people grabbing afternoon snacks before evening activities started. I spotted Mia at our usual table, her short hair slightly messed up from band practice, her flute case propped against her chair.
"There you are!" She looked up as I approached, her expression shifting from relief to suspicion in about two seconds. "Where have you been? You were totally zoned out during English, and then you just vanished."
I set down the two iced mochas and blueberry muffins I'd grabbed from the counter, using the time it took to arrange everything as an excuse not to answer right away.
"Library," I said finally, sliding into the seat across from her. "Just needed to look something up."
"Uh-huh." Mia picked up her mocha, eyeing me over the rim of the cup. "And that's why your face is doing that thing where you look like you're about to either cry or commit a felony?"
"I don't have a face thing—"
"You totally have a face thing. You get this look when you're thinking about—" She paused, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. "When you're thinking about him."
My cheeks went hot immediately. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Summer. You literally turn into a tomato every time someone mentions Kieran Cross. It's actually kind of adorable." She took a bite of her muffin, looking way too pleased with herself. "Also, you've checked your phone like six times in the last thirty seconds."
I looked down. My phone was indeed in my hand, screen lit up with nothing new. I shoved it in my bag.
"Okay, fine. Maybe I was thinking about him a little bit."
"A little bit," Mia repeated, grinning. "The way the ocean is a little bit wet."
I couldn't help it—I laughed. It felt good, breaking the tension that had been building in my chest since I sent that email. Mia had this way of making everything feel lighter, less catastrophic.
"You're different lately," she said, and her voice had gone softer, more serious. "Like you're glowing or something. I don't know how else to describe it."
I thought about Kieran's hands on that rag yesterday, the way he'd finally let me help him. The way he'd said thank you like the words hurt coming out.
"I think," I said slowly, "I'm just finally figuring out what I actually want. Instead of what I'm supposed to want."
Mia nodded like that made perfect sense. "Well, whatever it is, it looks good on you. Way better than that whole thing with Evan ever did."
Just hearing his name made something twist uncomfortably in my stomach, but I pushed it aside. Evan was over. Done. That chapter of my life—both lives—was closed.
"How's the flute practice going?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject. "Still thinking about auditioning for youth symphony?"
Her face lit up. "Actually, yeah. I've been working on that Poulenc piece you suggested, and I think I'm almost ready. I just need to—" She stopped, looking at me with sudden suspicion. "Wait. Are you trying to distract me from the Kieran thing?"
"Is it working?"
"No." But she was smiling. "Fine, we can talk about flute stuff. But only because I'm a good friend and I can tell you're freaking out about something."
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Thank you. Seriously."
"That's what friends are for." She squeezed back, then picked up her muffin again. "But just so you know, when you're ready to talk about whatever's making you look like you're planning a heist, I'm here."
"Noted," I said, and tried to mean it.
We spent the rest of coffee break talking about music and classes and anything except the email I'd sent or the boy I couldn't stop thinking about. But even as I laughed at Mia's story about the band director accidentally sitting on someone's reed case, part of my brain was still spinning.
What would happen when the administration read my complaint? Would they take it seriously? Would Harrison get in trouble? Would Kieran be safe?
And most importantly: would he ever forgive me for interfering?