Zee.
I had barely stepped inside the school when a nervous-looking junior student hurried toward me, clutching his backpack like a lifeline.
"Zee," he said, a little breathless, "Denver asked me to tell you he's waiting for you… in the boys' bathroom."
I blinked. "Where?"
"The boys' bathroom. East wing."
I watched him scurry off before I could ask more. Denver? In the boys' restroom? And *waiting for me*?
That didn’t make any sense.
But curiosity got the better of me. Maybe it was serious—he wouldn’t send someone if it wasn’t.
Besides, I had been itching to talk to him ever since that awful date with Lawrence. I needed to vent to someone who wouldn’t laugh or pity me. Denver would understand.
Still, I couldn't shake the weirdness of it all. The boys’ bathroom? What could possibl
