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sounds, I need to see if Nate is in the garage or not. Get it over with. “Thanks, but I haven’t even started the Spanish project that’s due tomorrow. I need to do something for it or else I’m going to fail.”
    “That’s due tomorrow?” Rosalinda asks. “I thought we still had another week.”
    I open the van’s door and hop out. “Five percent off your grade for every day that it’s late,” I call before shutting the side door. As thanks for my reminder, she flips me off through the window. I laugh and return the gesture.
    My heart pounds as I walk up the sidewalk to the side door. A thin coating of snow fell while we were in the mall. It’s the icy kind that crunches under my feet with every step. When I get to the door, I pause and shift my shopping bag from my right hand to my left. After silently counting to three, I open the door.
    The lights are off, so I flick the switch. The space between the Trans Am and the wall is unoccupied. The tarps and towels are back in their places. Part of me expects him to jump out and scare me, but as I look around, he’s not here. The garage is empty. Though I should be relieved, I feel empty, too.
    Before I head inside, something catches my eye. It’s a shopping bag that almost blends in with the tarp it’s sitting on. The handles are tied, the plastic is crumpled, and it can’t be much bigger than the size of my fist. Walking away without checking it out is not an option.
    I set my purchases down and pick up this small bag. It weighs almost nothing. The opaque plastic is impossible to see through. The bag’s knotted handles come loose with a few tugs. When I look inside, I gasp. It’s a necklace. The Petoskey stone necklace I saw before our shopping trip was interrupted.
    The chain is thin and silver with a small, perfectly circular stone pendant. When I hold it up to the light, both the chain and the stone’s polish shine.
    I’m trying to make sense of twenty-seven different feelings when a scrap of paper catches my eye. It’s a receipt, but not from Truly Michigan. It’s from China 1, for an order of chicken and broccoli with fried rice. There’s a grease smudge in one corner. Confused, I flip the receipt over.
    Hanley,
    Saw you looking at this. Thought it would be beautiful on you.
    The note isn’t signed, but it doesn’t need to be. I close my eyes. But when I open them, there’s just one word:
    Beautiful.

Chapter Six
    Monday passes in its usual, exhausting way. There’s something depressing about the weekend being four full days away. Monday’s major accomplishment: turning in a half-assed Spanish project just good enough to keep my C average going strong. Muy bueno.
    I checked the garage when I left for school and when I got home. Maybe someday I’ll forget about Nate. But not when I can still picture the blue eyes and the crooked smile. Not when my heart beats faster with the rush of doing something wrong that might be right. Not when my garage is empty, and I have to remind myself why that is a good thing. Not today.
    Even though Tuesday is one day closer to the weekend, it ends up being worse than Monday because Rosalinda doesn’t come to school. When I text her during first period, she says she’s sick—code for hungover or skipping a test. I suck it up and resist the urge to cut class with her.
    Second period biology is painful without Rosalinda. Most days, we survive the class by playing a game. Whenever Mr. Fulcher says “indubitably,” we grab our water bottles and take shots like it’s vodka. Halfway through class, we have to pee so badly that we both get passes and spend the rest of the hour talking in the bathroom. Without Rosalinda, I sit in the classroom and learn about the nitrogen cycle. It hurts my brain. Mr. Fulcher says “indubitably” a record-setting nineteen times during the hour. Too bad.
    English with Mr. Whitfield doesn’t go any better. It’s so boring that I fall asleep and earn myself detention.
    “Helton,”