What I don't know is why she acts like this. You'd think she'd be grateful for the gift I left her. That she wouldn't go behind my back, ignoring my warning like we never even talked.

Sometimes I wish I could just get her out of my head, but she's everywhere, in my thoughts, in my dreams. She's the first thing I think about when I wake up, the last thing to haunt me before I go to sleep. If she'd just listen to me, everything could be ok.

28.

I spend the next couple of days keeping my distance from Ben. I don't linger after chemistry, even though I know he wants to talk. I don't sit with him in the cafeteria, even though that's where he's been eating lunch lately.

And I don't let him touch me.

Even though he's been trying to.

He's been trying to hand me things, and brush by me, and make it so that we b.u.mp into each other in the hallway. Kimmie has this theory that Ben must have a touching fetish. Wes thinks the touching has more to do with control-sort of like he's marking his own personal groping territory. "He knows you don't want to be touched," he explains, "and so he tries to do it anyway, to show you who's in charge."

Personally, I don't know what the answer is. I just want it all to stop.

The thing is, ever since I've avoided talking to him, my life has has somewhat gone back to normal, as evidenced by this afternoon. somewhat gone back to normal, as evidenced by this afternoon.

It's after school and Kimmie, Wes, and I are at Brain Freeze sharing a Banana Bucket-basically a huge banana split with three shovels for spoons.

"People are still talking about the little scene you caused in the cafeteria the other day," Wes says.

"I didn't cause it. John did, remember?" I thwack his shovel from my side of the pail, silently marking my ice-cream territory.

"Touchy, touchy," he says.

"No pun intended, of course," Kimmie adds. "So, where were you last night?" She looks at Wes. "I tried to call you, but your dad wouldn't say where you were."

"Nothing big." He shrugs, his mouth full of ice cream. "Just out stalking some girls, taking random pictures of them when they least suspect it and leaving gifts outside their bedroom windows. The work of a stalker is never done, I tell you." He lets out an exhausted sigh and then gives me a pointed look.

"I said I was sorry," I remind him.

"I prefer a lot more groveling with my apologies. But, since we're on the topic of stalkers, did you guys hear about that Debbie girl? I heard Ben's been following her, leaving notes on her locker, totally s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with her head."

"Wait, is this girl a freshman?" I ask, remembering how Matt mentioned something similar.

Wes nods. "Debbie Marcus, captain of the JV swim team, currently dating Todd McCaffrey-"

"And supposedly getting stalked by Butcher Boy?" Kimmie interrupts.

"You heard it here first."

"Exactly," Kimmie snaps, dropping her shovel to the table. "How come I I didn't hear this first?" didn't hear this first?"

"Getting a little behind on the gossip train, are we?" Wes smirks.

"No," Kimmie says. "I just don't hang out with freshmen."

"For your information, I heard this from a fellow junior, who shall remain nameless."

"Whatever." Kimmie rolls her eyes. "Did your mysterious informant give you any details?"

Wes shrugs, but he clearly has nothing else to add.

"The juice is in the details, my boy," she says. "Better take a seat in the caboose and let me me drive this train. I'll get the scoop." drive this train. I'll get the scoop."

"Well, get this scoop," Wes says. "I did spot the freshman in question chewing Ben out today and throwing a crumpled wad of paper in his face."

"A crumpled wad of paper, or one of the suspicious locker notes of which you speak?"

Wes's face crinkles up. "How the h.e.l.l am I supposed to know?"

"I repeat," Kimmie says. "Let me me drive this train." drive this train."

I take a giant shovelful of ice cream and lean back in my seat.

"Have you told your parents about all your drama?" Kimmie asks, turning to me.

"Not yet."

"If it's really creeping you out, I think you should tell them," she says. "I bet some loser at school has seen you hanging out with Ben and thinks it'd be funny to mess with you."

"Maybe," I say. "That's why I just want to wait a little longer-see if I can figure this out on my own first, instead of turning it into a big deal."

"A victim's last words." Wes snickers.

"Speaking of . . . " Kimmie says, perhaps sensing my desire to change the subject, "my mom's become my dad's victim. You should have seen the way he was ogling Nate's babysitter last night. Granted, the girl was wearing a hoochie-mama mini with a belly shirt and streetwalker boots, but still, she's barely even eighteen years old."

"Care to lend me her number?" Wes asks.

"Get in line behind my horn-toad dad. After Hoochie-Mama left, he kept trying to convince my mom to shorten her skirt a full ten inches."

"Now there's a sobering image," he says.

"Not as sobering as you with a streaky orange face," she tells him. "I told you . . . self-tanners need to be applied evenly."

"At least it's faded a bit," I say, coming to his defense.

"My dad wouldn't even look at me," he says. "He said the sight of me made him sick."

"So, does the sight of himself make him want to croak?" Kimmie asks. "I mean, let's face it, he's not exactly Calvin Klein material."

"Or even Target menswear material." I grimace.

"Doesn't matter." Wes shakes his head. "Nothing matters to him unless I bring home some eye candy."

"Say no more." Kimmie sighs. "What time shall I be there?"

"Thanks, anyway." Wes smiles. "But he'd never buy it. He knows you too well."

"Well, then, how about Camelia?"

"Hold up," Wes says, gesturing toward the door with his shovel. "Butcher Boy at two o'clock."

I turn to look, and notice Ben standing by the doorway. "What do you think he wants?" I ask, sinking down into my seat.

"Well, this is is an ice-cream shop," Kimmie says. "Give the boy the benefit of the b.u.t.terscotch sundae." an ice-cream shop," Kimmie says. "Give the boy the benefit of the b.u.t.terscotch sundae."

"No deal." Wes winks at me. "He's spotted you. He's coming this way. He totally wants to feel you up."

I glance back in the direction of the door, but Ben is already standing at our table.

"Hey, there." He nods at Kimmie and Wes, but then focuses on me. "Do you have a second?"

"I'm actually kind of busy right now."

He looks at the bucket of ice cream, almost empty now. "Please. It'll only take a second."

"Can't you tell me now?"

"We're all ears," Wes says, sitting up straight in his seat.

"I was actually hoping we could talk in private."

"What difference does it make?" Kimmie says. "We're her best friends. She's going to tell us just as soon as you leave, anyway."

I kick Kimmie under the table, thinking about the note again.

"It's okay," I say, finally. "But I only have a minute."

"Thirty seconds until I polish off the rest of this bucket," Wes says, sc.r.a.ping his shovel along the bottom of the pail.

Ben leads me to a booth in the corner, and we sit down opposite one another.

"How come you've been avoiding me?" he asks.

I take a deep breath, wondering where I should begin, noticing the urgency in his voice. His face is flushed, and he's leaning in close.

"Because it isn't practical," he continues. "We need to work together. How else are we going to do our labs?"

"This is about chemistry?"

"No." He sighs. "It isn't."

"Is it more about how something horrible is supposed to happen to me?"

"This isn't fun for me," he insists. "And this isn't some excuse to try and get close to you."

"Then what?"

"You know know what. So, maybe the questions we need to ask ourselves are what. So, maybe the questions we need to ask ourselves are who who and and why why."

"Wait," I say. "I'm a little confused." I glance over at Kimmie and Wes. Kimmie licks down the length of her shovel, trying to get me to laugh.

"I make you nervous, don't I?" His eyes draw an invisible line down the center of my face, lingering on my neck as I swallow.

"Just tell me," I say. "What do you want?"

"To help you," he reminds me.

"Help me with what? I don't need any help."

"Look," he begins, "I know this sounds crazy, but if you don't let me help you, something really bad is going to happen."

"Like what?"

"Not here," he says, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one's listening in. Let's go someplace and talk about it."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Please," he insists.

I glance back at Kimmie and Wes. Wes, clearly aware that I'm upset, looks ready to pounce. Kimmie's practically sitting in his lap trying to hold him back.

"What do you say?" Ben continues. "Will you come with me now?"

"And then you'll leave me alone?"

"I can't promise you that. But I can try and make things more clear."

I shake my head, telling myself this isn't a good idea.

But I decide to go with him anyway.

29.