call to me, like the beacon of a lighthouse. I meander through the foggy waters, fighting the waves of my better judgment, until the choice is no longer mine. I’m used to the feeling of coercion, in regard to my own words but not in regard to others’. This, in itself, is hypnotic, magnetic. I follow the pull.
Scan the words.
My jaw drops.
J ohn wrote: I found your rosary .
Simple in structure. Four words, and only four words, loaded with complicated questions. Since he gave me the note last week, John and I have been locked in glances that last longer than a blink, practically daring each other to make the first move toward a conversation.
I ruminated, and avoided him, Friday and all weekend. Yesterday, I decided he needed to explain what he wrote, but I really shouldn’t be talking to him about anything but Lindsey. She’d flip if she knew John had something to say to me that didn’t involve her.
Now, in the moments before American Lit begins, he traipses over to me and leans a hip against a desktop.Rubbing the palm of his left hand with his right thumb, gives me a quick smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You read my note?”
“Yeah, I got it. You got Lindsey’s?”
He shrugs, glances away for a split second. “Did it make any sense to you? Look, this is a complicated conversation to have in the midst of To Kill a Mockingbird , you know? I mean, I don’t even know if you own a rosary, let alone if you’re missing one.”
I barely get out a shake of my head, when Mr. Willis walks in and bellows, “Places, please.”
John’s eyes shift toward our teacher. “We should talk sometime.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
He rattles off his phone number. “Want me to write it down? Or do you think you can remember it?”
“I got it.” Already, I’m running through excuses to give Lindsey as to why I have it, should she find out: we’re working on a school project together, he wanted me to pass it along to her.… Or maybe she doesn’t have to know I have it. It’s not like I’m going to be regularly using it.
“So give a call or”—he shrugs—“I can call you.”
Lindsey. She won’t understand.
“Maybe we shouldn’t …” But I allow my words to trail off. Definitely we shouldn’t, but I need to know why he wrote to me about a rosary.
Ewing helped me understand that the rosary was part of the dream sequence in Ritchie’s office through the power of suggestion. Because my mother had been drawing a rosary, it makes sense that it would hold a place in my subconscious.
But what does John know about it?
“Places,” Willis says again.
“What’s your number?” John taps the corner of my desk as he backs away.
I give it to him.
“I’ll call you tonight after practice. Five thirty or so, okay?”
My heart kicks up its pace. “Actually …” It’s a Tuesday. I’m going to be with Elijah tonight. Assuming he shows. “Actually, can you meet up at the Vagabond?”
His lips part into a wide grin. “Sure.”
“I’m meeting my boyfriend there, and Lindsey’ll come, too.” She’ll be thrilled. I’ll tell her the meeting was John’s idea. Which isn’t exactly a lie.
“Okay.” His brow knits a little, but he quickly recovers. “Five thirty?”
Elijah, if he shows, should come at six, so that’s when I’ll set it up with Lindsey, too. Forgive me, but … “Yeah. Five thirty.”
Lindsey’s late, and I never heard from Elijah, so I don’t know if he’s coming.
John’s phone buzzes with a text message, which is the ninth or tenth to come through in the past half hour since he joined me here.
“Sorry.” He apologizes every time he has to check his phone, and punches answers immediately, this time with a sigh and a shake of his head. “My sisters.”
“Sisters? As in more than one?”
“Try four.” He offers a shrug and a shy smile as a supplemental apology. “I’m the youngest of five. The girls are planning a bash for my parents’ thirtieth
Scan the words.
My jaw drops.
J ohn wrote: I found your rosary .
Simple in structure. Four words, and only four words, loaded with complicated questions. Since he gave me the note last week, John and I have been locked in glances that last longer than a blink, practically daring each other to make the first move toward a conversation.
I ruminated, and avoided him, Friday and all weekend. Yesterday, I decided he needed to explain what he wrote, but I really shouldn’t be talking to him about anything but Lindsey. She’d flip if she knew John had something to say to me that didn’t involve her.
Now, in the moments before American Lit begins, he traipses over to me and leans a hip against a desktop.Rubbing the palm of his left hand with his right thumb, gives me a quick smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You read my note?”
“Yeah, I got it. You got Lindsey’s?”
He shrugs, glances away for a split second. “Did it make any sense to you? Look, this is a complicated conversation to have in the midst of To Kill a Mockingbird , you know? I mean, I don’t even know if you own a rosary, let alone if you’re missing one.”
I barely get out a shake of my head, when Mr. Willis walks in and bellows, “Places, please.”
John’s eyes shift toward our teacher. “We should talk sometime.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
He rattles off his phone number. “Want me to write it down? Or do you think you can remember it?”
“I got it.” Already, I’m running through excuses to give Lindsey as to why I have it, should she find out: we’re working on a school project together, he wanted me to pass it along to her.… Or maybe she doesn’t have to know I have it. It’s not like I’m going to be regularly using it.
“So give a call or”—he shrugs—“I can call you.”
Lindsey. She won’t understand.
“Maybe we shouldn’t …” But I allow my words to trail off. Definitely we shouldn’t, but I need to know why he wrote to me about a rosary.
Ewing helped me understand that the rosary was part of the dream sequence in Ritchie’s office through the power of suggestion. Because my mother had been drawing a rosary, it makes sense that it would hold a place in my subconscious.
But what does John know about it?
“Places,” Willis says again.
“What’s your number?” John taps the corner of my desk as he backs away.
I give it to him.
“I’ll call you tonight after practice. Five thirty or so, okay?”
My heart kicks up its pace. “Actually …” It’s a Tuesday. I’m going to be with Elijah tonight. Assuming he shows. “Actually, can you meet up at the Vagabond?”
His lips part into a wide grin. “Sure.”
“I’m meeting my boyfriend there, and Lindsey’ll come, too.” She’ll be thrilled. I’ll tell her the meeting was John’s idea. Which isn’t exactly a lie.
“Okay.” His brow knits a little, but he quickly recovers. “Five thirty?”
Elijah, if he shows, should come at six, so that’s when I’ll set it up with Lindsey, too. Forgive me, but … “Yeah. Five thirty.”
Lindsey’s late, and I never heard from Elijah, so I don’t know if he’s coming.
John’s phone buzzes with a text message, which is the ninth or tenth to come through in the past half hour since he joined me here.
“Sorry.” He apologizes every time he has to check his phone, and punches answers immediately, this time with a sigh and a shake of his head. “My sisters.”
“Sisters? As in more than one?”
“Try four.” He offers a shrug and a shy smile as a supplemental apology. “I’m the youngest of five. The girls are planning a bash for my parents’ thirtieth
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