‘Not even one who got kicked out his old school for shivving a teacher?’ Alicia shot back.
‘If he’d shivved someone, he’d be in youth detention, not at Bigley,’ I said, before pushing through the classroom door. ‘Those rumours are a load of rubbish.’
‘There must be some reason teachers pretend not to notice him being weird,’ Alicia said, trailing after me to our seats. ‘Don’t you think he’s creepy?’
Katie dumped her folder out on the table. ‘Kind of. But in a hot way, if you know what I mean?’
‘Hot creepy?’ Alicia, who had the biggest crush on Luke Hughes, the nicest boy in Year 11, screwed up her face. ‘That’s rank. Libby, back me up here.’
At that exact second I glanced out of the window and saw the person we were discussing trudging across the car park towards the exit. He had on the same jacket, sweatshirt and faded school trousers that he always wore, a rucksack on his shoulders. Head down, scrappy hair partially obscuring his blank face.
I knew all too well why teachers left certain kids with unwashed clothes and a defensive posture alone.
‘He’s probably got reasons for being how he is.’
‘What, hot or creepy?’
‘I don’t think he’s creepy! Just… finding it hard to fit in at a new school when everyone’s already decided he’s a serial killer.’
We turned to face the front of the room as our English teacher called for everyone’s attention.
‘I notice you didn’t deny finding him hot,’ Katie whispered, earning a glare from the teacher as she and Alicia burst into giggles.
Did I find Jonah King hot, now he was sitting hunched up on my sofa, while my parents fussed about in the kitchen?
Honestly? I found him… more intriguing than I was comfortable with. Mum had given us all a lift to and from school, rather than making Jonah walk as Nicky and I normally did. As always, Mum let the foster kid have the front passenger seat, inviting him to choose a radio station or a CD from the pile of random genres crammed into the glove box. I’d spent a lot of car journeys listening to kiddie pop or heavy metal, and braced myself for whatever depressing emo dirge Jonah might normally be blasting through his headphones.
Instead, he twisted around in the seat to where I huddled in the back, feeling guilty about how grumpy I felt.
The curve of brow above his amber eyes still made me think of a wolf.
I could feel my face turning red for no other reason than I was a socially awkward sixteen-year-old with a not-unattractive, broodingly mysterious boy looking right at me.
‘It’s your birthday. What do you want to listen to?’
If anything, that made me blush even harder. What did I want to listen to, or what did I want Jonah King tothinkI wanted to listen to?
‘It’s fine,’ I mumbled, shifting my gaze to a field of sheep outside the window. ‘You choose.’
A few seconds later the opening bars to an obscure local band filled the car. I glanced across in surprise, catching the tiniest hint of a smile from Jonah in the wing mirror. I wasn’t one to advertise my tastes on branded clothes or fan merch, but Katie, Alicia and I had been to their concert in Nottingham a few months ago. The bag I’d bought was my favourite shade of brightblue, so I’d starting using it for school. Quickly averting my gaze back to the sheep, I reminded myself for the millionth time that I really needed to stop letting wild rumours influence my opinion of people. Especially this person.
Now, in response to his question about hanging around while I opened my presents and did other birthday things, I found I not only didn’t mind him staying downstairs – after all, how awful would I have to be to banish him upstairs on his first proper evening here? – I sort-of wanted him to.
‘If you stay, it might help everyone try not to embarrass me quite so much.’
‘Okay.’ He attempted a smile, but mostly just looked tense.
‘My parents have been fostering since before Nicky was born. You being here honestly isn’t a big deal.’
He raised one eyebrow at me from under his hair.
‘Okay, I know for you it’s a huge deal. I just mean we’re used to different people being around. Birthdays, Christmas, whatever. It’s cool.’
‘The more the merrier?’
‘Are you describing yourself as merry?’
He laughed then. A deep rumble that, for a split second, produced the urge to put my hand against his chest to feel the vibrations. Fortunately, before I could feel any more embarrassed, Nicky walked in.
