He laughed and knocked his shoulder against mine. “Hey, she can’t help that her brain is constantly misfiring. But I have to play nice with her if I’m ever going to have a shot at Stephanie, and last names aside, she’s mostly harmless. And I know you’re not indifferent to those natural endowments, right?”
I laughed, but it sounded forced and kind of miserable. I still had a queasy feeling, like there was a chance I might throw up.
“Look,” Roswell said, and his voice was unexpectedly low. “I know you don’t talk to girls that much—I know that. But she would go out with you. I’m just saying, the opportunity is there if you want it, you know?”
I didn’t answer. Alice was so incredibly, painfully hot, so perfect for watching from across the room, but the thought of actually going someplace with her made my chest feel tight.
The last bell rang, screeching out of the PA system on the roof, and Roswell stepped away from the wall. “Are you coming to history?”
I shook my head. “I think I’m just going to go home.”
“You want a ride? I’ll tell Crowley you had a family emergency or something.”
“I’m fine.”
The look he gave me was unconvinced. He ran a hand over his chin and stared out across the lawn. “I guess I’ll catch up with you later, then. Are you going to be at the funeral?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Probably not.”
He nodded. I nodded. We were both standing in the courtyard nodding but not really looking at each other. Sometimes Roswell asks very hard questions, but sometimes he has the decency not to. He didn’t say anything else. He went back inside and I left through the outer gate.
I started feeling better once I got out of the parking lot, away from the school, the cafeteria full of needles, the clanging metal smell of blood. I put up my hood and stared at my feet, thinking, How are you ever going to get a girlfriend? And why would someone like Alice Harms even be interested in you anyway? And what a loser.
Still, she’d touched my arm.
The air was clean and damp, making my breath come easier. I felt cold, a little shaky, maybe, but I was okay. I felt okay. Still, I couldn’t get rid of the nagging sense that things were about to get bad. At school. In the world. Alice’s mom was saying Hail Marys and everyone was on edge, looking for the demon in their midst, looking for someone to blame. My whole body felt weak, like I was coming down with something.
One thing was clear: I needed to do whatever it took to avoid being noticed. The rain pattered steadily on the sidewalk, making me uneasy for no good reason. Maybe things were bad, but they were always bad. I was used to that. The real, fundamental problem was this feeling I had that they were about to get worse.
