Read Online Arms Wide Open: a Novella by Juli Caldwell - Free Book Online
Authors: Juli Caldwell
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forgot how amazing it feels to laugh so freely, to laugh
and mean it. He’s quoting old choir songs, something we did to pretend we spoke
another language as we walked from class to class. We thought we were uber cool
and different, but I suddenly realize we were more ridiculous than I ever
imagined. “We were idiots, you know that?”
He wags his eyebrows at me. “Still are,
I hope. Nothing like a little nonconformity to keep it real.”
“How are you?” I ask.
Oliver pulls a face and smacks his
forehead. “How am I? Cheese and rice, woman, that’s the kind of question you
ask people you hardly know at a twenty year reunion,” he says. “Try again.”
I raise my eyebrows and do my best.
“Hey, wazzup?”
He nods approvingly. “That’s what I’m
talking about! So, you won’t believe this, but...I’m the choir teacher now.”
My jaw drops. “At Lincoln High? No way!
That’s so funny...you always swore once we got out of there you’d never, ever
step foot in that cement death-trap of a school again. And now you’re a
teacher? What parallel universe am I trapped in? You’ve become the arch
nemesis! You’re the new Miss Benson!”
“I have better cleavage, though.”
I snicker. I missed this guy.
He glances back toward the men’s room. I
follow his gaze and realize Grant is now the one hiding in the bathroom, which
pleases me in a very weird way. “So, Grant says you’re a shrink now. We might
have openings for a school counselor if you’re interested, if you’re looking
for work.”
“I don’t have the right endorsement, but
thanks. I’m thinking I’m a halfway house kind of girl, anyway.”
“Gotta save those lost souls since you
used to be one yourself?”
I look down. “Was it that obvious? I
thought I hid it so well.”
“You did. Looking back, it should have
been apparent. I guess we all have 20/20 hindsight.”
I sit back and fold my arms, looking
into the distance as my eyes glaze over and my vision blurs just a bit. It’s my
defense mechanism, my way of detaching from whatever scares me. Zone out and
ignore reality. I have to shake my head to pull out of it. “Go ahead and ask,
Ollsie. I have no more secrets.”
He leans forward earnestly. He’s all
about laying it on the table, like I am, so I prepare myself mentally for the
onslaught. I can’t help but smile at him, though. We’ve known each other since
kindergarten and we always stood up for each other. He had my back; I had his.
He got teased for being short, and I got mocked for being too skinny. All legs,
no boobs. We were each others’ fiercest defenders.
When Grant joined us in middle school a
few years later, we had another misfit to defend. We were all so gawky and
awkward, but I’m looking at Oliver and thinking I don’t care how short he is.
He’s hot. He has thick blond hair, blue eyes so light they’re almost white, the
pupils ringed with a circle of black, and a ruddy complexion. He has eyelashes
girls like me would kill for, and a perfect smile with gleaming teeth. He’s
stocky and muscular without an ounce of fat on him. I smile at him. “How did an
annoying little troll like you get to be so devastatingly handsome?” I ask.
“I work out under my troll bridge,” he
says, those eyes cutting through me. “Now talk. Here’s what I know: I’m away at
school, everything seems fine, all is cool, and suddenly Grant calls me out of
the blue to say your sister was killed, you tried to commit suicide, and he
just left you in the emergency room and thought they would be admitting you to
the psych ward for awhile.”
I pinch my lips together and take a deep
breath. “Sounds about right,” I say with a shake of the head, wrenching my neck
too far and too fast but I mask it as a hair flip, pretending I don’t want my
hair to fall in my eyes. Anything to look away.
He watches me expectantly. When I don’t
elaborate, his cheeks flush. “I need the dirt, Laur.”
I’ve hashed this all out with
and mean it. He’s quoting old choir songs, something we did to pretend we spoke
another language as we walked from class to class. We thought we were uber cool
and different, but I suddenly realize we were more ridiculous than I ever
imagined. “We were idiots, you know that?”
He wags his eyebrows at me. “Still are,
I hope. Nothing like a little nonconformity to keep it real.”
“How are you?” I ask.
Oliver pulls a face and smacks his
forehead. “How am I? Cheese and rice, woman, that’s the kind of question you
ask people you hardly know at a twenty year reunion,” he says. “Try again.”
I raise my eyebrows and do my best.
“Hey, wazzup?”
He nods approvingly. “That’s what I’m
talking about! So, you won’t believe this, but...I’m the choir teacher now.”
My jaw drops. “At Lincoln High? No way!
That’s so funny...you always swore once we got out of there you’d never, ever
step foot in that cement death-trap of a school again. And now you’re a
teacher? What parallel universe am I trapped in? You’ve become the arch
nemesis! You’re the new Miss Benson!”
“I have better cleavage, though.”
I snicker. I missed this guy.
He glances back toward the men’s room. I
follow his gaze and realize Grant is now the one hiding in the bathroom, which
pleases me in a very weird way. “So, Grant says you’re a shrink now. We might
have openings for a school counselor if you’re interested, if you’re looking
for work.”
“I don’t have the right endorsement, but
thanks. I’m thinking I’m a halfway house kind of girl, anyway.”
“Gotta save those lost souls since you
used to be one yourself?”
I look down. “Was it that obvious? I
thought I hid it so well.”
“You did. Looking back, it should have
been apparent. I guess we all have 20/20 hindsight.”
I sit back and fold my arms, looking
into the distance as my eyes glaze over and my vision blurs just a bit. It’s my
defense mechanism, my way of detaching from whatever scares me. Zone out and
ignore reality. I have to shake my head to pull out of it. “Go ahead and ask,
Ollsie. I have no more secrets.”
He leans forward earnestly. He’s all
about laying it on the table, like I am, so I prepare myself mentally for the
onslaught. I can’t help but smile at him, though. We’ve known each other since
kindergarten and we always stood up for each other. He had my back; I had his.
He got teased for being short, and I got mocked for being too skinny. All legs,
no boobs. We were each others’ fiercest defenders.
When Grant joined us in middle school a
few years later, we had another misfit to defend. We were all so gawky and
awkward, but I’m looking at Oliver and thinking I don’t care how short he is.
He’s hot. He has thick blond hair, blue eyes so light they’re almost white, the
pupils ringed with a circle of black, and a ruddy complexion. He has eyelashes
girls like me would kill for, and a perfect smile with gleaming teeth. He’s
stocky and muscular without an ounce of fat on him. I smile at him. “How did an
annoying little troll like you get to be so devastatingly handsome?” I ask.
“I work out under my troll bridge,” he
says, those eyes cutting through me. “Now talk. Here’s what I know: I’m away at
school, everything seems fine, all is cool, and suddenly Grant calls me out of
the blue to say your sister was killed, you tried to commit suicide, and he
just left you in the emergency room and thought they would be admitting you to
the psych ward for awhile.”
I pinch my lips together and take a deep
breath. “Sounds about right,” I say with a shake of the head, wrenching my neck
too far and too fast but I mask it as a hair flip, pretending I don’t want my
hair to fall in my eyes. Anything to look away.
He watches me expectantly. When I don’t
elaborate, his cheeks flush. “I need the dirt, Laur.”
I’ve hashed this all out with
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