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           "It’snothing."

           Mikecamethroughthedoorthen,glancingfrommetoEdward.ThelookhegaveEdwardconfirmedwhatEdwardhadsaidaboutloathing.Helookedbackatme,hiseyesglum.

           "Youlookbetter,"heaccused.

           "Justkeepyourhandinyourpocket,"Iwarnedhimagain.

           "It’snotbleedinganymore,"hemuttered."Areyougoingbacktoclass?"

           "Areyoukidding?I’djusthavetoturnaroundandcomeback."

           "Yeah,Iguess...Soareyougoingthisweekend?Tothebeach?"Whilehespoke,heflashedanotherglaretowardEdward,whowasstandingagainsttheclutteredcounter,motionlessasasculpture,staringoffintospace.

           Itriedtosoundasfriendlyaspossible."Sure,IsaidIwasin."

           "We’remeetingatmydad’sstore,atten."HiseyesflickeredtoEdwardagain,wonderingifhewasgivingouttoomuchinformation.Hisbodylanguagemadeitclearthatitwasn’tanopeninvitation.

           "I’llbethere,"Ipromised.

           "I’llseeyouinGym,then,"hesaid,movinguncertainlytowardthedoor.

           "Seeyou,"Ireplied.Helookedatmeoncemore,hisroundfaceslightlypouting,andthenashewalkedslowlythroughthedoor,hisshouldersslumped.Aswellofsympathywashedoverme.Iponderedseeinghisdisappointedfaceagain...inGym.

           "Gym,"Igroaned.

           "Icantakecareofthat."Ihadn’tnoticedEdwardmovingtomyside,buthespokenowinmyear."Gositdownandlookpale,"hemuttered.

           Thatwasn’tachallenge;Iwasalwayspale,andmyrecentswoonhadleftalightsheenofsweatonmyface.