The following morning, intent on avoiding him—as much as I can since we share a class—I get to Art early enough to switch seats with the unfriendly girl next to me. She doesn’t say a word when she arrives and sees her seat taken. She just smirks and takes my place. Mr. Gideon doesn’t seem to notice, either; or at least he doesn’t say anything about it. Frowning, I wonder why I didn’t think of this solution sooner. With Ever out of my peripheral vision, I’m actually able to relax, though during lunch it’s more difficult to go back and forth with my friends’ conversations without my eyes drifting to his table. When Ashley whispers in my ear asking about the seat switch, I shrug. There’s nothing I can tell her that won’t sound miles past crazy. “So, Wren. You never said if you’re coming with us tomorrow,” Lindsay says. Dress shopping. Now I feel like a complete jerk for skipping out on this conversation yesterday. It’s not like it did me any good. I study the table for a moment, trying not to look like I’m facing execution.
