Read Online Perfectly Messy by Lizzy Charles - Free Book Online Page A

killing yourself.” She waits for me to answer, so I throw her a shrug. It’s not like I have a choice. My calendar’s full, I’m dealing with it.
    “I’m serious. Be careful.”
    “Jen,” I nod toward the little Calc II professor who just said something about integrals involving trig functions, “the review?”
    She purses her lips, refocusing on her own notes.
    I focus on mine too, but the example problems just aren’t making sense. Calc was never this difficult to understand. Of all years, why does math decide to kick my ass now? Jennifer’s notes and numbers flow perfectly down her page. She nods along with the professor, sometimes working ahead. The woman’s a saint for agreeing to take post-secondary classes with me. When we get back to school for History, I’m picking her brain about integral functions and whatever that sign means that the professor keeps flashing on the projection up front.
    Jen taps my hand, and I find my eyes closed again . “It’s over. Come on,” she holds out her hand, backpack already slung over her shoulders. She pulls me out of my seat. “Justin, your life is killing you.”
    “Naw. I’ve got the situation under control. Jack Bauer style. Don’t worry, I’m good.”
    “Doesn’t he get near killed and tortured in every episode?”
    “ Touché. ”
    “What if I decide it’s morally wrong for me to help you study?”
    “Well,” I take her backpack from her as we climb the lecture hall stairs for the back exit, “then I’d be screwed.”
    “Well, lucky for you, I’m pretty awesome.”
    “That’s true.”
    “Okay, hand over your schedule. Let’s see where you can squeeze some study time in with me.” Her voice is full of snark, but I give her my phone anyway as I duck into the car. I need her help and I can cope with attitude. My schedule isn’t that bad. She’s overreacting. If I shifted my Psych project to later Thursday night, we could study after school, before basketball practice. Then after practice, I’ll swing on over to the second to last campaign dinner. Absolutely do-able.
    “Whoa, Justin.” She grows silent, scrolling through my hourly schedule and my list of to do’s. “I was joking before, but are you kidding? This is crazy. If your parents knew you were this swamped, they’d never ask you to help with the campaign.”
    “They don’t need to know. I’m keeping up with everything. It’s fine.” I point to the blue slot on Thursday, after school. “How about then? I’ll bump the Psych project later. No big deal.”
    “Works fine for me.” She taps my arm as I pull onto the highway. “Justin, be honest with yourself. No one can keep this type of schedule up forever. Something will give. Be smart, okay?”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    “I’m not kidding.”
    “I know you’re concerned, and I get it. But I’m used to it. I’m doing fine.” I turn the radio on. “So, how’s everything going with Trish? Still good?”
    “Yeah, she’s great. It’s hard being in different schools. But easier in a way too. We have coffee dates on Tuesdays and Thursdays and make sure to have at least one date night on the weekend.”
    “You see her that much?” My gut turns and the pain of being away from Lucy rears. God, I miss her.
    “How often do you get to see Lucy?”
    “I saw her four days ago for thirty-six minutes.”
    “That’s it? Is she cool with that?”
    I yank on my hair. “Yeah, I dunno, I hope? It’s not like I want it this way. Hell, it’s two more days until I can see her again. And that’s at her basketball game. But,” I shrug, “at least I’ll finally get to see her play.”
    “How come she doesn’t go to the fancy campaign luncheons or go door-to-door with you? Is it because of that interview?”
    I cringe. Great question for which I have horrid answers. One: I’m too embarrassed about how sleazy everything is now. Risking exposing Lucy to that world again isn’t worth it. It’s absurd. She could decide