Read Online Leslie's Journal by Allan Stratton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Allan Stratton
Ads: Link
her I was at your place. You got me in so much trouble—”
“It’s not my fault you lied to your mother.”
“And it’s not my fault you’re a moron.”
Katie’s eyes fill. “Leslie, why are you yelling at me? What’s the matter? We used to be friends.”
“Used-to-be’s right, isn’t it? And I suppose that’s my fault. All I know is I used to have a friend I could count on, but now she only has time for my worst enemy. Well, I don’t care. I have a boyfriend who loves me and I don’t need to waste my time with a nerdy little baby who needs her mommy’s permission to pee.”
Katie’s face disintegrates. I watch as she turns and runs across the grass, shoulders heaving.
Serves her right. I’ve never let anyone come between us—not parents, not friends, nobody. So how come she’s the one acting hurt? All the same, I feel like a turd.
By the time I get to math class, I’m not mad anymore. While Mr. Kogawa writes math equations on the board, I scribble a note and slip it on Katie’s desk. It says, “I’m so sorry. You’ll always be my best friend, no matter what.” There’s a little pause, and then Katie turns around with a look so serious I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. She whispers, “Me too,” and I know which: I cry.
Thirteen
E ven after I made up with Katie, I was still worried that she might have wrecked things with Jason. I had this bizarre panic that when he walked away from the bleachers, he wasn’t going to catch me later, that he’d left me with the cell and taken off for good.
One of the awful things about dating guys is, out of the blue, for no reason, they can just stop calling you. One minute you’re their girlfriend, the next minute you’re not. And they won’t even say why. It’s like they’re afraid to face you and have you get mad at them. So there’s always this scary feeling in the back of your mind. At the same time they’re smiling and laughing with you, they may be planning to split. I know I’m talking like a sudden expert and all. But you don’t have to watch a talk show to prove what I’m saying—just ask any girl in my school.
But Jason’s different. Not only did he catch me later, he was at my locker after class.
We went and studied at his place. (Well, okay, we didn’t really study.) And ever since, well, he’s been after me 24/7. I get nonstop texts. Stuff like, “HOW R U?” or “S’UP?” or “U WEARING PANTYS 2DAY?” First time I got the last one, I blushed, but I have to admit it made me feel sexy.
He wants to see me every night, too. Says he’s afraid to let me out of his sight. Romantic or what? He’s meeting me after school today and tomorrow, and then it’s Friday and the Pigjam concert.
As for Mom, Jason’s psychology trick worked great. I told her he wanted to meet her this weekend, and she chilled right out. She said if I wanted to study at his place she’d hold supper for me—“I’m glad you’re finally doing some homework!”—as long as I was back by seven and his mom was home.
“Deal,” I said. “Oh, and before he comes, will you help me tidy the place up?”
As soon as I said that she got this amused grown-up look.
“What’s so funny?”
“If you want to tidy up, he must be very special.”
I hate it when Mom does that. It’s like I’m a baby or something, this cute little pet put on earth to entertain her. It was especially annoying this time, because she was getting even for all the times I’ve been a slob. Last year she kept complaining my room was a pigsty. I told her if it bothered her so much she should stop looking at it, and got my “Keep Out” sign.
But who cares? Mom can have her little joke if it keeps her from asking questions. Let’s face it, if she knew the truth about me and Jason, she’d have a heart attack. Maybe even die.
Just thinking about Mom being dead makes me freak. Dad might as well be worm meat; he’s out of my life these days. If Mom was gone too, I
“It’s not my fault you lied to your mother.”
“And it’s not my fault you’re a moron.”
Katie’s eyes fill. “Leslie, why are you yelling at me? What’s the matter? We used to be friends.”
“Used-to-be’s right, isn’t it? And I suppose that’s my fault. All I know is I used to have a friend I could count on, but now she only has time for my worst enemy. Well, I don’t care. I have a boyfriend who loves me and I don’t need to waste my time with a nerdy little baby who needs her mommy’s permission to pee.”
Katie’s face disintegrates. I watch as she turns and runs across the grass, shoulders heaving.
Serves her right. I’ve never let anyone come between us—not parents, not friends, nobody. So how come she’s the one acting hurt? All the same, I feel like a turd.
By the time I get to math class, I’m not mad anymore. While Mr. Kogawa writes math equations on the board, I scribble a note and slip it on Katie’s desk. It says, “I’m so sorry. You’ll always be my best friend, no matter what.” There’s a little pause, and then Katie turns around with a look so serious I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. She whispers, “Me too,” and I know which: I cry.
Thirteen
E ven after I made up with Katie, I was still worried that she might have wrecked things with Jason. I had this bizarre panic that when he walked away from the bleachers, he wasn’t going to catch me later, that he’d left me with the cell and taken off for good.
One of the awful things about dating guys is, out of the blue, for no reason, they can just stop calling you. One minute you’re their girlfriend, the next minute you’re not. And they won’t even say why. It’s like they’re afraid to face you and have you get mad at them. So there’s always this scary feeling in the back of your mind. At the same time they’re smiling and laughing with you, they may be planning to split. I know I’m talking like a sudden expert and all. But you don’t have to watch a talk show to prove what I’m saying—just ask any girl in my school.
But Jason’s different. Not only did he catch me later, he was at my locker after class.
We went and studied at his place. (Well, okay, we didn’t really study.) And ever since, well, he’s been after me 24/7. I get nonstop texts. Stuff like, “HOW R U?” or “S’UP?” or “U WEARING PANTYS 2DAY?” First time I got the last one, I blushed, but I have to admit it made me feel sexy.
He wants to see me every night, too. Says he’s afraid to let me out of his sight. Romantic or what? He’s meeting me after school today and tomorrow, and then it’s Friday and the Pigjam concert.
As for Mom, Jason’s psychology trick worked great. I told her he wanted to meet her this weekend, and she chilled right out. She said if I wanted to study at his place she’d hold supper for me—“I’m glad you’re finally doing some homework!”—as long as I was back by seven and his mom was home.
“Deal,” I said. “Oh, and before he comes, will you help me tidy the place up?”
As soon as I said that she got this amused grown-up look.
“What’s so funny?”
“If you want to tidy up, he must be very special.”
I hate it when Mom does that. It’s like I’m a baby or something, this cute little pet put on earth to entertain her. It was especially annoying this time, because she was getting even for all the times I’ve been a slob. Last year she kept complaining my room was a pigsty. I told her if it bothered her so much she should stop looking at it, and got my “Keep Out” sign.
But who cares? Mom can have her little joke if it keeps her from asking questions. Let’s face it, if she knew the truth about me and Jason, she’d have a heart attack. Maybe even die.
Just thinking about Mom being dead makes me freak. Dad might as well be worm meat; he’s out of my life these days. If Mom was gone too, I
Similar Books
