an entire alphabet. Weâre two people in love with a language that almost everyone we know doesnât care about. In French I pretend he doesnât look like a guy whoâs into sports, that he doesnât remind me of every guy who was once on Siâs or Jedâs baseball team, like Eddie and Ryan and every guy I used to go for.
Guys like them arenât trustworthy; they have legions of girls following them around. But Zeke is hurt. . . .
âSeriously,â I continue, my hands coming up toward his shoulder, âhave you had someone look at itââ
âDrop it.â Zeke is using English and heâs not looking at me. His knuckles are white around the strap of his bag, his back tense.
âYou arenât limping as much anymore.â
âItâs none of your business. Just like who I date or whose perfume I smell like. Not your business.â He stands up abruptly, swinging his bag onto his back, the movementcausing him to wince. âIâm not around this afternoon or tomorrow. So letâs see if we can whip out our assignment on Sunday. Iâm sure youâll welcome the time away from me.â
And then he takes off, and itâs only in staring at his retreating figure that I still see traces of his limp.
I spend Friday night watching French movies in my room. Amélie . Intouchables . Paris, Je Tâaime .
For dinner, I pour a box of water crackers on a plate and toss in three discs of Babybel cheese and a handful of grapes, clearly hitting all the major food groups. Alice decides to go to her poetry reading with a friend from class, and I almost tag along just to make sure sheâll be okay. But instead I make her promise sheâll call if she canât make herself go in, even if she just wants me to sit beside her.
By eleven oâclock, I want to call her and tell her to come back to our room because Iâm lonely. But instead I pop in another movie, La Vie dâAdele , the very racy Blue Is the Warmest Color . Itâs the first time I can really watch the movie about two high school girls falling in love without somehow worrying that my brothers will walk in.
Except halfway through the movie Alice walks in.
âWhatcha watching?â she asks, plopping on the bed beside me.
Merde .
âHow was the poetry reading?â I ask, shutting my computer.
âIncredible,â Alice says, dropping backward onto the mattress. âThe people reading were amazing and there was a good vibe. I thought the whole thing would be terrifying but everyone there was so supportive.â
I flick on my desk lamp and notice that Alice has that dreamy look on her face, her eyes closed behind her thick black glasses.
Black glasses that are a lot like Zekeâs.
Zeke who isnât here.
âDo you think youâll read?â
âEventually. We start by doing it in a small group but toward the end of the course, weâll have to do it at an open mic night.â
Sheâs chewing her bottom lip. âIâm not sure Iâll be able to get up there in front of a crowdââ
âIâll definitely come if you do,â I promise. âAnd Iâll sit in the front row, and youâll just stare at me and itâll be like nobody else is even there.â
Alice smiles sadly, her gaze on my comforter and not me.
âIâm excited to hear you read your poetry.â
She glances over at me and Iâm relieved to see her bottom lip has escaped her teeth with minimal damage. âSo how was your study session with Zeke?â
Iâd tried to downplay all things Zeke but apparently Alice isnât oblivious. Because sheâs scanning the room as though she is expecting to find traces of boy. Except thereâs nothing boy here because as far as I know, there hasnât been a boy in this room since Si and Jed left me here on the first day of school.
Certainly no Zeke.
âHe had other things to
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