Happenstance: Part Two (Happenstance #2) Read Free

tore off a tiny piece of notebook paper and threw it onto my bare desk.
    “Did Weston dump you already? He’s been attached to your hip, and I haven’t seen you together all day.”
    I didn’t turn around.
    “Easter,” he whispered.
    It was the first time someone had called me that since word got out that I wasn’t Gina’s daughter. It felt derogatory. It always had.
    I still didn’t turn around. Micah didn’t have his friends there to encourage him to harass me, so if I ignored him, he usually gave up. There were three types of bullies: those like Sara, who were more passive-aggressive than anything, and usually only when they were having a bad day. Others, like Micah or Andrew, only gave me grief when there were other people to join in, and then there were bullies like Brady and Brendan, who didn’t care who was around. When they decided to target someone, the torment wouldn’t stop until they had somehow broken their prey.
    I had read a handful of books and articles on bullying, and how girls usually targeted one another, but in my school, it was the boys who were the worst. They relished the power that came with intimidation. Many times the level and length of cruelty depended on how many others would join in the attack. No one was safe. It was random and always sudden and ruthless. The best protection was to befriend the bullies and join in. The cycle was vicious and predictable, the only cure being graduation, and I knew I was just one of many desperate for the last day of school.
    My indifference coupled with Miss Alcorn’s zero-tolerance policy on harassment likely were two factors in Micah giving up quickly. A familiar relief came, but it was also unsettling. I felt out of practice, even after just a few weeks of not having to feel so guarded. Thankfully, Micah left me alone for the remainder of class.
    By the time I saw Weston in art class, he was a nervous wreck. He sat on his stool that he’d moved to my table, his knee bobbing up and down in anticipation.
    “Why are you avoiding me?” he blurted out.
    “I’m not,” I said, keeping my voice down, hoping he would do the same.
    Mrs. Cup swept into the room, quick to threaten us if we went anywhere except straight to the old pizza place next to the mural we had been working on.
    “Who doesn’t have a ride?” Mrs. Cup asked.
    Weston looked at me with worried eyes.
    Only two students raised their hands.
    “You can ride with me, or you can hitch a ride with someone else. Let me know now,” Mrs. Cup said, waiting for the two students to decide.
    Weston didn’t take his eyes from mine. “Can I take you?”
    Walking out to the parking lot, Weston offered his hand, testing the waters. The only people outside were the other art students and Mrs. Cup, so it was less awkward than before or after school, but I could feel tension radiating from his fingers the moment we touched.
    As soon as his door slammed, he took a breath. “I’m sorry, Erin. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was trying to protect you. I can see now that it was stupid to talk to them without talking to you first.” He waited for me to respond, clearly bracing himself for an argument.
    “I’ll get over it.” I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t sure what I was, but it was weird for someone to be so…apologetic toward me.
    A line formed between his eyebrows, and he turned to face forward, slamming the gear into reverse. He was unhappy with my response, and quiet, lost in thought while he drove to the vacant lot of the former pizza place. Everyone else was already standing at the brick wall, getting supplies out and ready when he pulled in and parked.
    “This is new for me too, Erin,” Weston said. “I didn’t care if Alder dumped me. I didn’t worry every night that when she left for college, I might never see her again. All of these bizarre, awful, amazing things are happening to you, and it would be completely understandable if you said you didn’t have time to try to make