It had been a week since Jean slammed her locker door in my face and stopped talking to me, and I still hadn’t been able to figure out why—or what I did. I went around school following her, asking her, texting her, only to realize she had blocked me on all social media. I couldn’t even call her.
I went to her house, but they said she wasn’t around. Eventually, I gave up.
I was in horticulture class, doing a cross‑breeding practical, when Natalie walked in.
“Hey, stranger,” she said.
“Hey, Natalie. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Yeah, I guess we don’t have enough classes together,” she said, leaning beside my table. “And even in the classes we do have, you’re barely paying attention. Are you okay? Are you good?”
“Sure, I’m fine.”
“Trouble in paradise?” she asked.
I raised a brow.
