Page 70 of Clara Knows Best

Yoli wasn’t back yet from the high school dance. His molar was back in his mouth, tenuously attached to the teeth on either side of it, he had an ice pack on his shoulder and a heating pad on his rib, and he was eating a chocolate shake with a spoon.

Clara had not said a word when he’d asked her to go through the drive-thru. She’d done it, though.

She was currently texting a mile a minute—probably her emotional-support cousin, Birdie—and sending him occasional dark glances to make sure he knew that they were definitely talking about him this time.

All things considered, he should be in a pretty bad mood right about now.

“You know what? I feel great,” he said aloud, breaking the silence.

“You’re high,” she informed him.

“Oh, that makes sense,” he said, glad that there was a reasonable explanation. “I’m pretty sure I should be really mad at you. You pickedthe worsttime to distract me.”

“Youshould be mad atme?” she choked. “What the heck did I do? I distrac—This whole thing was orchestrated by you! Against my express wishes!”

“Is that why you’re mad?” he asked lazily. “Because I didn’t listen to you?”

“No, that’s not why I’m mad! And it’s not because I had to crawl around in the dirt for thirty minutes looking for your bloody molar, either. And by the way, you’re drooling!”

He frowned—or tried to—and wiped his face with a napkin. “You know they numbed my mouth. You don’t have to be mean about it.”

She went back to her rage-texting.

“Is this still the best date you’ve been on?” he ventured after a while.

It was just like people said: she was beautiful when she was mad. He’d never understood that expression until this moment. He watched admiringly as she focused on him again with an absolutely killer look in her eye.

She was forestalled by the sound of a lock in the front door.

Yoli burst in. “Is it true? DeWitt Petty got arrested for attacking Dr. Flores?”

“Oh, it’s true,” Clara said.

“Hi, Yoli,” Jesse greeted her. “Wow, great dress.”

She looked thrilled. “He’s on pain meds?”

“Big time,” Clara said.

“Fun! How bad is he hurt?”

“Not bad enough, if you ask me.”

He should have been insulted, but for some reason he was vastly amused. She was just so indignant.

“He’s laughing,” Yoli observed, looking at him like she’d never seen him before.

“Well, he’s proud of himself,” Clara snapped. “He’s thrilled with the way his little plan went.”

“Why aren’t you?” Yoli asked her.

“Because he decided on his own to kiss me in front of DeWitt Petty to start a fight. And he did it with hundreds of people watching, people who know me. Buthegets to leave town in a few days, so what does he care about that?”

“Hey, I barely touched you,” he said, pretty sure from the look on her face that he was drooling again. He wiped his mouth gingerly. “We’re talking a peck on the lips. If you hadn’t—” He stopped talking, a bit mesmerized by her eyes—why were they open so wide? “Well, anyway, it worked. And he’s in jail, so we’re good, right?”

“If I hadn’t what?” she demanded.

“If she hadn’t what?” Yoli echoed. “What’d you do, Clara?”

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