Ximena's POV
The final bell at Willowville High couldn't have come soon enough. My brain felt fried, like someone had scrambled my thoughts with a fork. The entire day had been a whirlwind of Ezekiel cornering me at my locker, his earnest words about needing to talk, and Glenda practically wrestling me toward him during lunch with that mischievous grin of hers.
And then there was actually sitting down with Ezekiel. If you could even call what we did talking.
I had no clue what I was supposed to feel anymore. Frustrated? Hurt? Maybe a tiny bit hopeful? All of the above with a heavy dose of complete emotional chaos thrown in for good measure.
Glenda was already waiting by her beat-up Honda in the student parking lot, arms folded across her chest, designer sunglasses pushed up into her dark hair like a headband. "You look like someone just told you Santa isn't real."
"Might as well have," I muttered, tossing my backpack into the passenger seat before collapsing into the car.
