"I walked."

He stood on his tiptoes and peered over the counter at my feet. "Well, at least you had your shoes on this time."

I laughed, and more of my tension drained. It would be okay. I could talk to Jackson. Trust him. No matter what else, he was a good person. Inside. Where it counted.

I wandered over to the bookstore until Jackson's shift was over. When I returned, he was clocking out. He lifted his hand in a wave and motioned me over.

"You want to grab a seat in here?" Jackson asked from behind the counter.

"Um. Would you mind if we went somewhere else?"

Jackson didn't miss a beat. "You want to head over to Gracie's?" he asked. "They have awesome apple pie. I'm starving."

I nodded, my heart thumping. What if I told him the secret and everything went wrong? Could I really trust him?

chapter twelve.

A tall, thin waiter seated us in a red leather booth at Gracie's. A few other couples were sitting at tables, but the atmosphere was quiet and intimate. Jackson waited while I tucked my guitar under the table, and then he slid in beside me. My leg accidentally pressed up against his. I moved it quickly, pretending not to notice the jolt. He didn't bat an eye. Without checking the dessert menu, he ordered a piece of apple pie. We both asked for sodas, and then the waiter disappeared.

"So. What's up?" Jackson asked.

I picked up a saltshaker, dumping a few grains on the table and running my finger over them as I tried to figure out what to say.

"You ever think you really know someone? But then you find out something horrible and it changes everything?"

Jackson leaned back against the leather. The red made his black hair shine.

"Not really," he answered. "Not much that people do surprises me anymore."

I glanced down at the salt grains before glancing up to meet his eyes. "I suck at reading people. Must be a genetic mutation. I have several."

Jackson blinked.

I bit down on my bottom lip. "I have a secret." I felt nervous, as if I was about to perform live without rehearsal, without memorizing the lyrics.

"Yeah. I kind of figured." Jackson winked and propped his arms along the back of the booth. I stared at the salt and drew a line in the sprinkles on the table. I tried to remember which shoulder to throw salt over to ward off bad luck. Superst.i.tion was a gift from Grandpa.

"You smiling about your secret?" Jackson asked.

"No." My lips quivered. "I wanted to throw salt over my shoulder to ward off bad luck, but I think it's too late."

I stopped playing with the salt. "It has to do with Lacey. Please don't repeat this, okay?"

He shook his head and his eyebrow rose. "Of course not."

"Lacey, well, she's had it tough. I guess she kind of deals with it by being with a lot of guys. She drinks too much. I've always figured it's kind of her way to cope, you know?"

Jackson nodded. "That's rough."

I looked around the restaurant, but no one was paying us the least bit of attention. "It is. I mean, I just wish she'd stop drinking so much. I hate when she lets guys...she's my best friend." I stopped and bit my lip again. "She was. She's not anymore."

Jackson nodded, and the waiter returned to our table and placed drinks in front of us. He smiled without speaking and quickly disappeared.

"I know that. So what happened?" Jackson asked when the waiter left.

I grabbed my straw and swirled the ice around, fizzing up the cola in my gla.s.s. I was afraid to say the truth out loud. I'd always protected Lacey. And my mom couldn't handle knowing. But I had to trust someone.

"I saw Lacey. With my mom's boyfriend, Simon. Making out."

Jackson whistled softly through his front teeth. "You're sure?"

"Definitely. In November. At Marnie's party. They were in the bas.e.m.e.nt. I was looking for Lacey to tell her I was there. I didn't even know Simon was at the party. He'd come to pick up his brother, and, well, instead he picked up Lacey. I saw them. Very hot and heavy."

Jackson ran his fingers through his hair. "Whoa."

"I know. It's horrible, right? And the next day, when I was going to tell my mom the truth, I found out she was pregnant. So I couldn't tell her."

Jackson sipped his drink. "That's pretty harsh."

"I know." I shuddered, imagining them together, and then reached for the saltshaker, picked it up, and put it down again. "So anyhow. I belted him."

"What?"

"I did. Today. At lunch. I hit Simon in the face. He showed up at school and dragged me to McDonald's all hurt and upset that I wouldn't talk to him anymore. He was acting all worried about my mom, and I wanted to confront him, but I couldn't. Holding it in made me so angry that I smacked him."

Jackson tugged his bottom lip. "You are full of surprises." He studied me. "Did your mom find out? About him and Lacey?"

A tear slid out and rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away. "No, and I can't tell her. My grandma already says Mom isn't handling her pregnancy well. My grandma is worried about her. I mean, my mom's pretty old to be having another baby." I wiped under my eyes. "I haven't told anyone about Simon and Lacey. You can't tell a soul."

"I won't." He tugged on his bottom lip again. "Does he know you saw them?"

"No. Maybe he suspects now. But I doubt it. He thinks I'm being a jerk because I'm jealous that he's going to be around for my mom's baby."

"Man. That totally sucks. I'm really sorry, Jaz." Jackson picked up his drink and swallowed soda. He chewed on some ice thoughtfully. "So are you ever going to tell her?"

I thought about my mom and how she would probably have to leave Simon if she found out. She'd be left alone again. To raise her baby on her own. It wasn't what I wanted for her. I knew it wasn't what she wanted. Not again. I hesitated. "Do you think I should?"

"Man, it would mess things up."

I nodded once. "I know, right? How could she ever forgive him for doing that? Especially when she was pregnant. I mean, I wouldn't forgive that. Even if it was just kissing. It's still betrayal."

Jackson pulled his lip again, and I watched it pop back in place when he let go. I wondered if it was soft. If I'd ever know how it felt to kiss a boy like him. Not because I was drunk or because he had been dared to kiss me.

"It must have freaked him out, finding out about the baby. People do really stupid things when they're scared. And drunk."

"Not that stupid."

He nodded. "Has he done something like that before?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so. G.o.d. I don't know what to believe anymore. He seemed so in love with her. He still does." I reached out with my foot and nudged my guitar case. "Is this what guys do, Jackson? Get drunk and fool around?" I grabbed my guitar charm and rolled it between my fingers. "Do you think drinking makes it okay?"

"No, I don't."

His voice sounded uncertain though. I wondered if he'd ever done the same to some girl. My heart ached. For the girl and for me.

"He can't really love her though, can he? If he did that with Lacey?" I wanted so desperately to understand why he'd done it. Why Simon could pretend it had never happened.

Jackson lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I don't know. I mean, people screw up sometimes. Even if they are in love. We're an imperfect species."

"s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up is locking himself in the bathroom when he found out my mom was pregnant. Not hooking up with Lacey."

Jackson's expression turned cloudier than a Tadita rainy day.

"I don't think my mom would forgive him if she found out. I mean, I can't even forgive him and he's not my boyfriend."

Jackson drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Who knows though? I mean, she really loves him, right? And what if it never happened again?"

I shook my head. I couldn't forgive someone for betraying me like that. Could she?

"Are you and Simon close?" Jackson asked.

"We were. I really liked him. We talked about stuff since he's, you know, black. Like me. And it helped. It sounds dumb. But it helped."

"It doesn't sound dumb."

The waiter walked by our table, taking a tall black man and a black woman to their table. I stared at them. Longingly.

I shook my head sadly. "Well, it doesn't matter. Because now I can barely stand being around him. It makes me crazy. Keeping his secret for him. Protecting him. " I picked up my drink and sipped it to calm myself. "Instead of sharing a heritage, instead of him helping me understand it, he's made me hate him and everything he stands for."

Jackson glanced over at the couple who'd sat far enough away from us so we still had privacy.

"What he did doesn't have anything to do with race."

If I were a dog, the hairs on my back would have stood up. "I know that," I growled. I wasn't stupid. I knew it wasn't an issue about race. "I meant everything he stands for as my mom's boyfriend."

"Maybe you can think of it as not protecting him but protecting your mom?" Jackson said.

I lowered my eyes to the table. "I don't want to be the one to take him away from my new baby brother or sister."

Jackson sat quietly for a moment. "Maybe he just really did screw up, you know? A mistake. He does seem to care about your mom. And the baby. It sounds like he cares about you too."

I stiffened on the booth seat. "So you think it was okay?"

Jackson took his arms off the back of the booth and leaned forward. "No. I'm not defending him or what he did. I'm just saying..."

I shook my head. "It's not right."

"Sometimes things aren't always black and white."

I snorted. "You think I, of all people, don't know that?" I pointed at the skin on my arm. "Black and white. Like me. Like the baby."

Jackson smiled. His mouth opened wider, and he chuckled.

I stared. How could he make fun of this? I instantly regretted my stupid decision to trust him.

"Sorry," Jackson said, but he didn't sound sorry at all, and he didn't even try to wipe the smile off his face.

"It's not funny," I said. I made a fist under the table. I seriously wanted to reach across the table and punch him. G.o.d. Thanks to Simon, I'd become a liar and a people smacker.

"Jaz, open your eyes."

I glared at him. "You have a really weird sense of humor, Jackson."

"I guess I should explain. About my grandma."

"That you live with her?" I was about to reach under the table for my guitar and leave Jackson behind. So much for trusting people.

"She's black."

I blinked and stared at him. "What?"

"My grandma is black. I guess my grandpa was a grumpy white guy, but Grams, not so much. My mom was like you. Well, lighter, but the same. She never let me forget it either. Whenever she was drunk, she told me I was 'stained by black blood.' And she was drunk a lot." He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "She died when I was seven."

"Why did you not tell me this?"

"You never asked."

I blinked at him, trying to absorb his story. I had a hard time wrapping my mind around it. How could he have left out this little piece of information about himself?

"I'm sorry. That sounded wrong. I wanted to tell you. But it never seemed to happen. Not the right time or something. But then I told you we would swap secrets someday. And I decided that when you could trust me, I would tell you the truth."

My mouth literally hung open. A mix of emotions filtered through my brain. Denial. Shock. Anger. How could he not tell me? How could he just walk around looking 100 percent white, blending in with everyone else, while I stood out like a zebra in a field of horses? How did I not know this? How did no one know?

I stared at him, studying his skin tone. Light. Slightly tanned. His straight black hair. Not a sign of a curl. Brown eyes. Slender nose. And for a moment, I was overcome with envy. And then I felt a swoop of anger.

"My mom died in a drunk-driving accident. Unfortunately, she was the drunk. Anyhow, after she died, I got tossed into foster care. A few weeks pa.s.sed, and Grams found out about me and came and got me out. I was her family, she said. She's looked after me since."

My anger vanished. I hadn't bothered to look past the surface of his life. I'd been too wrapped up in myself. I'd a.s.sumed his home life was fine, normal, despite his thing with drugs. I'd never once asked him why he lived with his grandma.

"My mom drove drunk all the time, so the good thing was that no one else got hurt. It could have been worse." He smiled but looked sad. "I missed her at first, of course. Even though she'd mostly treated me like c.r.a.p. She blamed me for my dad leaving. Grams told me he was a redneck. Lily white. He couldn't stand having a 'part-n.i.g.g.e.r child.' The ultimate hypocrite, really." Jackson tugged on his earring.