drip off my jaw and onto the paper, turning the blue words into water.
Check it out.
Is she OK?
Can you see what it says?
What’s wrong with her?
They lean into me to see the blurry words, as if I’m not sitting here. Maybe I’m not. Maybe this isn’t happening. Maybe I’m asleep, and I’m going to wake up any minute. And my mother is going to have breakfast waiting. And we’ll eat whole-wheat pancakes with Vermont maple syrup. And Luke won’t be stoned. And we’ll all just sit and talk about how good those pancakes are. About which schools Luke will get into and which ones I’ll apply to next year. About how bright our futures are.
Someone leans closer. Chocolate doughnut breath in my face. I should hide the note. But I don’t move. I don’t move. I don’t.
I just stare at the wet blue words running off the paper.
“I THINK JOSH LIKES YOU. I saw him checking you out when you walked by him at lunch,” Kayla says to Jessie.
“Oh, my God, really? Josh is so hot.”
I can’t stand having my locker next to the two of them. They’re obsessed with who’s into them. They’re always at the same parties Ellie and I go to — I mean,
used
to go to — whispering behind their hands every time someone walks by them. As far as I can tell,
no one
is into them. Without thinking, I make a
hmph
noise to indicate Josh is so totally
not
hot.
“What’s
your
problem?” Jessie asks.
Josh is a loser?
“Nothing,” I say, slamming my locker.
“Jealous,” Kayla says.
Yeah. That’s it.
They laugh and turn away from me. I spot Caleb heading down the hall, so I rush to catch up.
“Can we come over tonight?” I ask.
“Sure.” He smiles. I wonder if it’s at the thought of me coming over or Ellie.
“She seems better, don’t you think?” he asks before we get to homeroom. Guess that answers my question.
“Yeah, definitely. But”— we stop outside the door —“something has to happen soon. I’m afraid it’ll be too late if she waits much longer.”
“When does she have to — you know, do it by?”
“I’m not sure. Within three months or something like that?”
He frowns and peeks through the window in the door. He’s looking for her. I wish I didn’t feel jealous. She’s my best friend, and she’s a mess. The last thing I should care about is whether Caleb still has a thing for her.
What I
should
be doing is pushing her to take care of things.
Soon.
Caleb opens the door, and we walk in. Ellie is already in her seat, reading something. She’s hunched over. Her hair hangs down in front of her face.
“Hey, El, whatcha got?” I ask, trying to be friendly.
She doesn’t look up.
“What is it, a death threat?” I joke.
I lean down so I can see her face. It’s blotchy and wet. I peek at the letter. The words are all smudged and blurry from her tears. I gently pull the paper out of her hands and read it.
“What’s going on?” Caleb asks innocently. I look into that cherub face and want to slap him. I shove the letter at him instead.
His mouth drops open as he reads. “But I didn’t —” he starts.
My glare cuts him off.
Ellie looks up at me. Her eyes are glassy, questioning.
“Ellie —” I start. But I don’t know what to say.
More people come into the room. I reach into my purse and luckily find some tissues. I hand one to Ellie, but she doesn’t move. I try to wipe her face off, but it doesn’t help because tears are still seeping out the corners of her eyes.
“She must have put it in my backpack last night,” Ellie says quietly, looking down at her hands. “But . . . how does she know?”
“Come on,” I say. I shake my head at Caleb.
“Corinne, I didn’t —” he starts again.
I take Ellie’s hand, and we leave him standing there holding the letter. Mr. Howard doesn’t try to stop us.
I lead Ellie to the bathroom so I can help her wash her face. The room’s empty because the homeroom bell already rang. I look for feet in the stalls just in case.
Check it out.
Is she OK?
Can you see what it says?
What’s wrong with her?
They lean into me to see the blurry words, as if I’m not sitting here. Maybe I’m not. Maybe this isn’t happening. Maybe I’m asleep, and I’m going to wake up any minute. And my mother is going to have breakfast waiting. And we’ll eat whole-wheat pancakes with Vermont maple syrup. And Luke won’t be stoned. And we’ll all just sit and talk about how good those pancakes are. About which schools Luke will get into and which ones I’ll apply to next year. About how bright our futures are.
Someone leans closer. Chocolate doughnut breath in my face. I should hide the note. But I don’t move. I don’t move. I don’t.
I just stare at the wet blue words running off the paper.
“I THINK JOSH LIKES YOU. I saw him checking you out when you walked by him at lunch,” Kayla says to Jessie.
“Oh, my God, really? Josh is so hot.”
I can’t stand having my locker next to the two of them. They’re obsessed with who’s into them. They’re always at the same parties Ellie and I go to — I mean,
used
to go to — whispering behind their hands every time someone walks by them. As far as I can tell,
no one
is into them. Without thinking, I make a
hmph
noise to indicate Josh is so totally
not
hot.
“What’s
your
problem?” Jessie asks.
Josh is a loser?
“Nothing,” I say, slamming my locker.
“Jealous,” Kayla says.
Yeah. That’s it.
They laugh and turn away from me. I spot Caleb heading down the hall, so I rush to catch up.
“Can we come over tonight?” I ask.
“Sure.” He smiles. I wonder if it’s at the thought of me coming over or Ellie.
“She seems better, don’t you think?” he asks before we get to homeroom. Guess that answers my question.
“Yeah, definitely. But”— we stop outside the door —“something has to happen soon. I’m afraid it’ll be too late if she waits much longer.”
“When does she have to — you know, do it by?”
“I’m not sure. Within three months or something like that?”
He frowns and peeks through the window in the door. He’s looking for her. I wish I didn’t feel jealous. She’s my best friend, and she’s a mess. The last thing I should care about is whether Caleb still has a thing for her.
What I
should
be doing is pushing her to take care of things.
Soon.
Caleb opens the door, and we walk in. Ellie is already in her seat, reading something. She’s hunched over. Her hair hangs down in front of her face.
“Hey, El, whatcha got?” I ask, trying to be friendly.
She doesn’t look up.
“What is it, a death threat?” I joke.
I lean down so I can see her face. It’s blotchy and wet. I peek at the letter. The words are all smudged and blurry from her tears. I gently pull the paper out of her hands and read it.
“What’s going on?” Caleb asks innocently. I look into that cherub face and want to slap him. I shove the letter at him instead.
His mouth drops open as he reads. “But I didn’t —” he starts.
My glare cuts him off.
Ellie looks up at me. Her eyes are glassy, questioning.
“Ellie —” I start. But I don’t know what to say.
More people come into the room. I reach into my purse and luckily find some tissues. I hand one to Ellie, but she doesn’t move. I try to wipe her face off, but it doesn’t help because tears are still seeping out the corners of her eyes.
“She must have put it in my backpack last night,” Ellie says quietly, looking down at her hands. “But . . . how does she know?”
“Come on,” I say. I shake my head at Caleb.
“Corinne, I didn’t —” he starts again.
I take Ellie’s hand, and we leave him standing there holding the letter. Mr. Howard doesn’t try to stop us.
I lead Ellie to the bathroom so I can help her wash her face. The room’s empty because the homeroom bell already rang. I look for feet in the stalls just in case.
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