CHAPTER 8
Kennedy knew if she took the time to sit down, she wouldn’t get up again, but her bed tugged her toward it with an almost irresistible gravity. She threw her lab books into her backpack.
“So Reuben was here? Was he upset?”
Willow shrugged. “Does that guy ever get upset about anything? He must take, I don’t know, ten Prozacs a day or something. Is he a weed head?”
Kennedy shook her head, only half listening. “I left my phone here this morning so I couldn’t call him.” She glanced around her desk and rummaged through her top drawer. “Hey, could you call me? I still can’t find it.”
Willow let out a long, dramatic sigh that could have won awards if she had actually been on the stage, but she punched the buttons on her phone. “It’s ringing.”
Kennedy spun herself around in a slow
