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August 19

"I'm going to the library," I say after a while of sitting around in the empty classroom and discussing boys I don't even find attractive. I'm not asexual or whatever, but talking about whose ass is hotter and whose shirt brings out his six-pack is not how I want to spend my free lesson.

Rachael clings to my hand and prevents me from getting up.

"Why?" Her eyes widen. "Please tell me we don't have an assignment I forgot about."

I roll my eyes, wrenching my hand out of hers and zipping up my hoodie.

"No, we don't. I'm going to see if they have this book I've been searching for."

"Is a romance novel?" Riley's face glows. "What's the name? I want to read too."

"The subtle art of not giving a fuck," I tell her bitterly the first name that comes to mind.

She scowls, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. I'm sure she doesn't know that's a real book and not a sassy comeback I've made up. I already have too many of those to count.

"See you guys later," I mumble, lifting my backpack onto my shoulder too fast so that my ponytail gets stuck in it. I wince, pulling my hair free before I go bald.

"Calm down, Tay," Marla says to me, eyeing me with boredom. She's clearly getting annoyed by my chronically-bad mood.

Luckily, I've mastered the subtle art of not giving a fuck.

My friends protest -- whining that I'm becoming emo and they're afraid I'm going to join some satanic cult for which I need ancient books on mythology and necromancy -- but I don't care. Honestly, setting the world in eternal God-forsaken darkness from hell doesn't seem like a bad idea. If only I was either smart or evil enough to do that but whatever. I can't memorize my geometry let alone a dozen curses in some made-up language of dragons and witches.

The only witch I care about is Hermoine Granger. Yup, she's the bomb

Maybe that's why I prefer reading a good book or listening to music over socializing with the inferior human forms and discussing the trivialities of Earthly living. And that's also why my plan for today -- and basically every other day of my life -- is simple: mind my own business and keep everyone out of it. At least nobody's going to be messing with me in the library.

Passing by the vending machine, I decide to get a bottle of water and some gummy bears. Unfortunately, when I put a dollar into the machine, it gets stuck. Not only does it refuse to spit out the bottle I want but also devours my money whole.

"What the hell, you greedy robot?" I mumble-snap at the machine, pressing its buttons to get it working again.

My luck keeps getting worse, and the machine whirs and spits, stopping entirely.

"No no no," I repeat, pressing harder and finally resorting to punching the damn thing. "Just great! No wonder everyone hates you, you freaking world-dominating mechanical invention!"

I hear someone chuckle behind me, spinning around to meet gentle gray eyes.

"Bad day?" Shane Gray asks, glancing over my shoulder at the machine I've been caught wrestling with.

It stands there with its innocent silence, causing me to fume with rage.

"Oh, it keeps getting better and better," I snap. I glare at the vending machine as if I can stare it into complying with me.

"Have you tried being nicer to it?" Shane asks with an amused smile that causes dimples to appear on both his cheeks.

I realize they hadn't appeared yesterday, maybe because his smile had been different. Yesterday, he had been smiling to be polite. Today, he's smiling because he's actually enjoying himself.

He's enjoying my anger.

"Have you tried being human?" I counter. "I can be as angry as I want, okay? I'm not like you."

Shane laughs, a low, throaty sound that is more like a gust of wind than a laugh.

"Ouch! Remind me never to get you riled up," he says. Casting me a sideways glance, he attempts to reach past me towards the vending machine.

I purse my lips and fold my arms over my chest. Stepping aside, I wait for him, as if challenging him to work his magic and make the impossible happen. Sure enough, he clicks on a few buttons, pats the side of the metal block, and digs two of his long fingers through the slot for the money. That's when the stupid machine finally decides to spurt out my money. Not to mention a water bottle that is worth far less than the trouble it has caused.

"Problem solved," Shane declares, puffing out his chest and handing me my bottle and change.

"And all because you have experience with fingering," I say.

Shane laughs, harder this time. "Wow, you're on fire today. Tell me again why we're not friends."

"Because you're popular and play football?" I suggest.

"That doesn't make me any special," he answers like it's obvious, his smile as kind as ever. 

I don't answer, mumbling a quick 'thanks' and turning away before the conversation can get too long. I'm not looking for human interaction today. Nope. Maybe I should even avoid machines for the day after my experience with the vending machine. Suddenly, wrapping myself in bubble wrap and hiding underground doesn't seem like a bad idea.

"Hey, wait! Wait!"

I stop and turn around when the loud footsteps cease and Shane comes to a halt in front of me. I spend a quick but brief minute to take in his awry hair and dimple -- because damn, dimples are hot because they're holes where they shouldn't be -- and his coat that looks like a girl's but fits him really well. If Shane notices me staring, he doesn't comment, though, because he's definitely too nice. Panting, he still continues to smile, holding something out towards me.

"You left this behind," he says.

I stare at the bar of chocolate in confusion.

"I didn't get that," I answer.

Shane blinks. "It came out right after you left."

I shrug a little awkwardly. "Must have been because of all the punches I was throwing at the thing."

Shane's smile widens. "Well, it's still yours," he says.

I don't answer, swallowing hard.

I shouldn't be hesitating. The nicest guy in school is handing me free chocolate and I'm not ready to take it. Maybe because it's chocolate and chocolate brings back too many memories. Maybe I'm just not accepting of kindness anymore.

"Are you for real?" Shane laughs. "You're getting free chocolate. Who turns down free chocolate. It's sweet and it boosts serotonin and it's free!"

His enthusiasm is almost comical and I can't help the faint smile that slides onto my lips. I roll my eyes up to his face and see him beaming at me.

"Okay, fine," I say, taking the chocolate from him.

"Great," Shane says. "Trust me, chocolate makes everything better. Even mood."

"When have you ever seen me in a good mood?"

Shane opens his mouth to answer.

"This year," I interrupt, wanting to specify it.

He closes his mouth and presses his lips together in a small smile.

"Listen, I heard what happened ..." he begins.

And that's my cue to want to leave.

Honestly, I don't want to hear it. I don't want him to tell me he heard what happened to Carter. Nothing happened to Carter. It wasn't a tragedy or an accident. My brother didn't just vanish in a puff of smoke because of some game fate played on him. He wasn't an unwilling victim, not some casualty. It wasn't something that happened. He did it.

"It must have been so hard on you."

My gaze snaps up to Shane's face which I have almost never seen this serious. There's ingenuity on it, though, not like the sympathy so many people try and fail to convey.

"What's hard for me?" I scoff. "He's the one who died. I'm alive and here, aren't I?"

A moment passes by.

"Yeah, well, the ones left behind have it tougher sometimes," he mumbles.

I stare at him, wondering why he's saying any of this. It's not like it's a recent event. It's been months since Carter died, almost three months to be exact. The school had held a reception and all, with students and teachers saying words that felt so shallow. So many people came to tell me they were sorry but Shane didn't. Or maybe he did but I never noticed. I'd blocked everyone out.

"Okay, this got deep quick," I say, trying to change the topic. "Can we change the topic to something less gloomy before going our own separate ways and pretending the other doesn't exist? Thanks for the chocolate though."

Shane smiles a little. "Free chocolate. Even better."

I smile despite myself, not knowing how and why this conversation is getting drawn out.

"I should go," Shane says as if the same thought crossed his mind. "I'll see you around then ...um ..."

"Taylor." I roll my eyes.

Shane chuckles awkwardly, color rising in his cheeks as he runs the back of his neck. "Sorry, I'm really bad with names," he admits.

"Yeah, and it's not like we're friends or anything."

He stops, his eyes on my face as if he's overthinking what I said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," he says.

"What?" I stare at him, unable to understand why he's apologizing. Is he actually this nice or is there something more to it?

"I'm actually really bad at remembering things," he adds.

A short laugh escapes my lips.

"Dude ..." I shake my head in amusement. "I believe you. I was kidding. Don't read too much into it. Now go. You have a class to get to, I'm sure."

If he doesn't have class, he doesn't say it. He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes this time and I have to wonder what I said wrong. Regardless, Shane begins to back away from me with his signature smile and waves before turning around and leaving.

It's only after he's gone that I notice myself smiling. My smile, too, is different this time.

I can't remember the last time I smiled like this.

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A/N: I've given you two bonus chapters even though they were supposed to be coming up on the weekend but whatever. Views about Shane and Taylor? I hope you're liking the story so far <3 Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts.