In time, he stops answering his phone, so I leave messages with the front desk. I don’t care how he feels about the office workers knowing his private business. Like Cassie said, you have to be willing to fight.
School is … normal, I guess. My geometry grades slip a little without Shane tutoring me, but Ryan and Lila take up the slack. We’re like the Three Musketeers, but I miss the fourth side of our quadrangle. Shane still hasn’t texted me.
And I haven’t received any new mail from him, either. It’s been a month since he left juvie.
Where the hell are you, Shane?
It seems like he could find some way to get in touch with me. I told him my e-mail when he was sending that message to Mike, his former guardian. If he remembers.
If he remembers me.
Pain overwhelms me. Maybe he just wants to forget everything. Start over. And it would be selfish of me to drag him back here, back to that crappy trailer, if he’s happier where he is.
And I want Shane to be happy. I do.
I just thought he was happiest with me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
So I’m planting the garden without Shane.
It’s a warm day. Sunny. Green World is hard at work. Both Lila and Ryan are here, our usual members, and even the four sophomores who deserted me. They’ve all apologized. Mel told me that she reported seeing Dylan bully people, so that’s something. She’s partially responsible for his social downfall, and it’s scary how fast people turn when you’re booted off the football team. Now Dylan Smith’s a pretty face with no crew, and payback is a bitch.
So I’m absolutely stunned when he shows up here. Everyone freezes.
I’ve got my fingers in the dirt, planting the seeds according to Gwen’s directions. I don’t know that much about gardening, but I like how it looks already. This lot looks like somebody cares. We care. And I would’ve sworn Dylan Smith doesn’t—about anything except his mom, that is—so nobody knows what to say.
I push to my feet. “What’re you doing here?”
“Can we talk for a minute?”
“I guess.” I move away far enough that the others can’t overhear, but they can still see us.
“It’s weird that you said yes,” he mutters. “Nobody else is talking to me.”
There are two ways I can handle this. I can be bitter and say he deserves it, but that’s not how Aunt Gabby has taught me to behave, even to my enemies. She’s kind even to cranky old Mr. Addams, who’s forever holding up the grocery lines. And she’s the kind of woman I want to be. So I don’t tell Dylan what an asshole he is. I figure he knows.
“What’s this about?” I ask instead.
“My mom’s got me in therapy. She’s worried that I’ll turn into a serial killer with mommy issues or something.”
“I hope it helps,” I say quietly.
“God, this is screwed up. You know so much about me, and we’re not even friends.” He goes on, “Anyway, that’s why I’m here. I’m supposed to make things right, if I can. So I’m offering to help.”
He wants to plant a seed? Okay.
“No problem.” I point at the pile of supplies. “Conrad can get you started. He’s kind of the site foreman.”
“Really? That’s it?”
The others are frozen, watching how this goes down. They seem to be letting me set the tone. And I’ve learned the most important thing from my aunt: Forgiveness is freedom.
“My personal feelings don’t matter, dude. This is an important project. It’s good for the town and the environment.”
“Okay. Then I’ll get to work.”