By the time we left the art room, it was empty. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for the hallway. As we stepped out the door, the sea of student life parted to reveal Karyn standing across the hall, leaned up against a bank of lockers, her platinum waves pulled over one shoulder. Her stance was casual, relaxed. She greeted a couple seniors with a small smile as they passed. To anyone who didn’t know better, she was untouchable. But her icy-blue eyes were just a little narrower than usual, and throwing sparks instead of twinkling. They locked on Mark a split second after we stepped through the door, then cut to me. I couldn’t help a tiny curl of satisfaction over her fear, because it was clear as she looked back at Mark, she searched his face for anger. “Hey, babe.” Mark’s gentle tone, combined with the way he reached for her hand, must have reassured her. Her face lit up. She twined her fingers in his as we turned together down the hallway, her clutching his arm like it was a life preserver.
