Chapter 58
Summer's POV
"Kieran—"
"You should eat lunch." He stood abruptly, slinging his backpack over his shoulder again. "You're gonna be starving by sixth period."
"Wait." I reached out without thinking, fingers brushing his wrist. He froze. "Thank you. Really. For doing this. For... caring."
He looked down at where my hand had touched him, then back at my face. Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or discomfort, or something softer he was trying to bury.
"Don't thank me," he said roughly. "Just do well on the test. That's enough."
He turned to leave.
"Kieran."
He stopped but didn't turn around.
I dug into my bag and pulled out a small ziplock bag I'd packed this morning—chocolate wafer cookies, the kind with pink filling, tied with a little bow I'd made from ribbon scraps. My hands were shaking as I held it out.
"Here. You've been working so hard lately. You should eat something sweet."
He turned slowly, staring at the bag like it was a live grenade.
"Summer—"
"Please." I pushed it into his hand before he could refuse. "You gave me notes. I'm giving you cookies. It's fair."
His fingers closed around the bag automatically. He looked from the cookies to me, expression unreadable—part confusion, part something that looked almost like hurt.
"Why do you keep doing this?" The question came out raw, unguarded.
"Doing what?"
"Giving me things." His voice cracked slightly. "Trying to—I don't know. Fix things."
I swallowed hard. "Because you do things for me. And I want to... balance it out. That's all."
He stared at me for a long moment, throat working. Then he carefully tucked the bag into the inner pocket of his backpack, the motion deliberate, protective.
"Thanks," he said quietly. So quietly I almost didn't hear it.
"You're welcome."
He didn't leave immediately. Instead, he stood there, shifting his weight, clearly wrestling with something. Finally, he asked, "Does Lily still like the Rapunzel doll? Is she—is she okay?"
My heart squeezed. "She loves it. She told me she sleeps with it every night." I smiled. "And she's still using the Charlie Card you guys got."
"That you gave us," he corrected, but there was no edge to it.
"Did you use the one I left for you?" I asked before I could stop myself. "The photo and the card?"
His jaw tightened. "That was for Lily. Not me."
"But you keep it safe for her, right?"
"...Yeah."
I took a breath. "Little kids need privacy too. And secrets. Things that are just theirs." I met his eyes. "I gave those to Lily because I wanted her to be happy. Not because I wanted you to feel like you owe me."
He went very still. Several seconds passed.
"You're too good to her," he said finally, voice strained. "To both of us."
"She's your sister." It came out simple, obvious. "Of course I care."
Something shifted in his expression—realization, maybe, that my kindness to Lily was really about him. That I cared about his family because I cared about him.
The air between us felt charged, fragile.
"Mia said you're in room 309 too," I said, desperate to change the subject before I said something stupid. "For the placement test. But you're in the competition track. Can't you get exempted?"
He exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "School policy. Competition students still have to maintain regular class standing. And Coach Anderson wants me to take it anyway. Prove I'm not just a test-taking machine, I guess."
"Are you going to try? Like, actually try?"
His mouth quirked slightly. "Do you want me to?"
The question caught me off guard. "Of course I want you to. You're brilliant. You'd do amazing."
"Why?" He tilted his head, eyes sharp and searching. "Because you want me to prove myself? Or because you want me to shut up people like Tyler?"
I flushed. "Both, maybe. I want you to be recognized for how smart you are. I want those assholes to choke on their words." I hesitated. "And I want you to have the respect you deserve. In competition and at school."
He studied me carefully, like he was trying to figure out if I meant it.
"So if I do well on this test," he said slowly, "you'll... what? Be on my side even more?"
I frowned. "I'm already on your side, Kieran."
He blinked. "What?"
"I'm already on your side." I said it firmer this time, holding his gaze. "I'm not waiting for you to prove anything. I already think you're incredible. The test doesn't change that."
For a moment, he looked completely lost. Like I'd just spoken a language he didn't understand.
Then his throat bobbed. His ears went red again. He looked away, gripping the strap of his backpack so hard his knuckles went white.
"You don't have to say stuff like that," he muttered.
"I'm not just saying it." I stood up, closing the distance between us slightly. "I mean it. I'm on your side. Whether you ace the test or bomb it. Whether you win nationals or quit tomorrow. I'm still going to be here."
His breathing had gone shallow. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.
"I don't—" He stopped. Started over. "I don't know what to do with that."
"You don't have to do anything." My voice came out softer than I intended. "Just... let me stay. Okay?"
He looked at me then—really looked at me—and I saw it. The wall he kept up, the one that kept everyone at arm's length, had a crack in it. Small. Fragile. But there.
"Okay," he whispered.