Chapter 5
Stacy forgot all about his plan to stop by Ange’s—blame it on that woodshop teacher, since he couldn’t seem to get Darian off his mind. On the bus he stared at his own reflection on the window, not seeing the streets and sidewalks beyond the glass, and remembered the way those bright eyes crinkled like balled up bits of aluminum foil, that wide grin, the hand heavy and warm on his shoulder. Because he didn’t want to admit that he was thinking of the guy, not even to himself, Stacy thought up questions to justify his jumbled thoughts.
How old was Darian anyway? Older than either Ange or Lamar, obviously, if he owned his own business and was good enough at what he did to teach it to others—none of Stacy’s friends could claim that. Well, Ange maybe, but he wasn’t all that great a
