Read Online The Gifting by Katie Ganshert - Free Book Online

school the next morning. He wears a darker pair of jeans, a pale blue t-shirt, and the same hemp bracelet. Hopefully, the thrill that runs through me upon seeing him is not as blatantly obvious on the outside as it is on the inside.
    He sits beside Summer in Current Events, he works by himself on the pottery wheel in Ceramics, and does nothing at all in World History except stay quiet and chew on his thumbnail, but I’m positive I feel his stare several times throughout class. Only every time I gather up the courage to peek, he’s looking at Mr. Lotsam. Which means I’m either suffering from a gigantic case of wishful thinking (I refuse to call it a delusion) or he’s much more discreet than me when it comes to staring.
    When the final bell rings, the zipper on my bag decides to stick. The classroom empties while I tug at the stubborn metal tag.
    “Need help?”
    The recognizable voice makes my heart stutter-step.
    Luka stands on the other side of the table, distractingly perfect, and I curse myself for being such an easy blusher. “Um … sure,” I say, scooting the bag over.
    He unsticks the zipper on his first try and hands me my bag with a half-smile that does nothing to relieve the warmth growing in my cheeks.
    “Thanks,” I mumble.
    “So you weren’t at the game on Friday.”
    I stand and shrug my bag straps over my shoulders, not entirely sure how to respond. Was he disappointed by my absence, or is he still trying to figure out my odd reaction at the pep rally? Surely it’s not the former. The former doesn’t make any sense. Why should someone like Luka be disappointed by my absence?
    “Leela said you weren’t feeling well.” We exit Mr. Lotsam’s class side by side and I scratch at my patch of eczema. It burns, which means I’m not dreaming.
    “I had a headache.”
    “That’s too bad.”
    I have no idea how to respond to that either.
    “Do you get headaches often?”
    “Unfortunately.” We come to a four-way intersection in the hallway. Luka stops. So do I, desperate to say something—anything—that might be the slightest bit interesting. “You’re my neighbor,” I blurt and the heat actually spreads to my forehead. I didn’t know foreheads could blush.
    “Yeah, I know.” His half-smile turns into a whole one. “I saw you on Saturday morning. By that rock.”
    Oh my goodness. I officially want to melt. Disappear. Vanish into thin air like a puff of smoke. Luka saw me spying on him on the beach Saturday morning?
    He cocks his head and there’s something in his eyes. It’s the same something that was there on Friday, when he picked up my pencil in Current Events. Before I have a chance to give that something a name, a huddle of boys down the hall whistles. “Hey Williams!” the square-faced kid from Current Events calls. “You have to check this out.”
    Luka hooks his thumbs beneath the straps of his backpack. “You should come to the next game,” he says, then turns around and makes his way toward the boys. Several of them give me a lingering once-over before refocusing on whatever they think Luka has to check out.
    I shuffle away in a mindless stupor, replaying what just happened. Leela meets me at my locker. Her stream of chatter as we walk through the parking lot allows me to mull over my encounter with Luka. Did he purposefully wait for me after class? Does he really want me to go to the next football game or was he being polite? When we reach my car, Leela’s chatter stops abruptly. Pete is leaning against the bumper. He climbs into the back. Leela squirms in shotgun, leaving me to wonder why girls always fidget in front of the boys they like.
    When we arrive at my house, my mother is a complete embarrassment. She’s made cookies and has milk, like we are in kindergarten. Thankfully, Leela takes it in stride. In fact, Leela and my mom become fast friends. The two pummel each other with questions and jabber back and forth like long lost BFFs. By Leela’s third cookie,