"You could say that." I looked away from his lips.

"I just want to pass chemistry. Please."

Passing chemistry wasn't all he wanted, but Rankin had me between a rock and a hard place. Whelan's eyes widened, sensing an opening. They were lighter, warmer with his smile, and dangerous enough to make me forget about everything-even Marcia. "So what do you say? Meet me after school?"

I bit my lip. Nicholson set this up so Reece Whelan could spy on me. Get close. Get information. But I wasn't guilty of anything, so what did it matter? Maybe the solution to my problem was the narc standing right in front of me. If he saw that I was just a boring, normal person with a boring, normal life, that information would make it back to Nicholson. Getting to know Reece might get the police off my back.

"Just chemistry," he promised, palms raised in mock subjugation.

Right. Just chemistry. It all boiled down to one undeniable truth. Reece Whelan held my scholarship in his slippery lying fingers.

"Fine," I said before I could change my mind. "Four o'clock."

He flashed a self-satisfied one-hundred-watt smile and turned to go.

"I hope you're worth it," I called after him without thinking.

Reece's boots paused on the tile. He turned to look at me, and his smile was gone.

* * * I took my bag lunch to the library and headed to a small table in the back. Jeremy was at our usual spot, hunched over his iPad. Several large maps were open and spread all across the table. I set my backpack on the floor beside him with a heavy thunk.

"Where were you after first period?"

"Why? Did you miss me?"

"Of course."

"And all this time I thought you only loved me for my Twinkies." A slow smiled curled his lip, and I was relieved that whatever tension there had been between us the previous morning seemed to be forgiven. He looked from his iPad to one of the maps, carefully marking a point with a yellow highlighter. "Tell me again why we're doing this?"

"Because I won't survive the summer if we don't."

"Syracuse is only six hours away. I have a car."

"And I don't. So we need to figure out how we can spend weekends together while you're away on this internship."

He dropped his chin in his hand. "I have a better idea. How about if I just don't go."

"Are you kidding? This photojournalism program is the perfect opportunity for you!"

"It's at Syracuse. I don't want to end up at Syracuse for college. My mother wants me to." Because it was far away. Because it's easier to push someone away than to look at them too closely and see the pain you've inflicted reflected back in their eyes.

"Does it matter that it's what your mother wants? Syracuse is a great school." And a chance for him to finally get away from his father. "You'd be a fool to pass up a chance to live on campus for a summer. You'll be a shoe-in when you apply in the fall."

"I'm not going to New York." He tossed the highlighter on the map. It was a local map. Maryland, DC, and Virginia. He'd highlighted all the schools I planned to apply to.

I shouldn't have been happy about that, but I selfishly smiled. I didn't know what I'd do if Jeremy left for four years-he was my best friend. I picked up the highlighter and a bus map and asked, "Where do we start?"

"University of Maryland," he said, studying me sideways. My smile widened. College Park was just over thirty minutes away.

"Your mom is going to throw a fit."

"My mom doesn't have to know."

I picked up the route map where Jeremy left off, plotting bus stops and transfer points between bites of my sandwich.

"Nearly," Jeremy said after a few quiet minutes.

"What?" I asked. "Do I have jelly on my chin?"

He was quiet for a minute and then reached inside his backpack. When his hand emerged, he was holding a photograph. "Remember when I took my dad's poker money and paid your rent? When I went back to return the cash, I found something. I wasn't sure if I should show you. I didn't want to make you sad."

He set the photo down in front of me. A group of men stood arm in arm in front of a banner. It read Belle Green Poker Club.

I recognized my father immediately. It was like catching my reflection in a mirror. His eyes, his nose and cheeks and smile, were mine. Warmer than his sterile face on his driver's license photo, it was like he was looking at me. I touched the glossy surface, memories of him coming back in a rush.