Read Online Time After Time by Tamara Ireland Stone - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tamara Ireland Stone
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I’m home. Then she asks me to carry the cooler out to the car.
As I’m picking it up, Brooke leans in close and nudges me with her elbow. “I’m glad you’re home too,” she says.
It feels so strange to lie to Brooke, but I do it anyway. “So am I,” I say.
People keep walking by, but so far no one seems to have noticed that I’m sitting here alone in the Jeep, staring at the door that leads to my locker. The warning bell sounded thirty seconds ago, but I can’t bring myself to leave this spot.
It would be so easy to close my eyes right now, disappear from this car, and open them in a secluded corner of Westlake Academy. I’d go straight to the office and tell Ms. Dawson at the front desk that my family’s plans have changed, I am back in town for my senior year after all, and, if possible, I’d like a class schedule. Then I’d walk the hallway until I found Anna. We’d eat lunch with Emma and Danielle like we always did. That night, while we were sprawled out on her bedroom floor studying together, I’d surprise her by grabbing her hands and transporting her to a quiet spot far away, like a beach in Bora-Bora.
The final bell rings. I reach down for my backpack, throw it over my shoulder, and slam the Jeep door. As I cross the student parking lot, I look down at my jeans and T-shirt. I never thought I’d actually miss the Westlake uniform.
I don’t pass a single person as I climb the staircase that leads to my locker on the third floor, and when I pull up on the latch, the click echoes in the empty hall. Inside, there’s nothing but empty water bottles, a few granola-bar wrappers, and a bunch of loose papers that someone fed through the slats while I was gone. Collectively, they represent everything I missed last spring. There’s a prom court voting ballot, a sign-up sheet for the annual senior class Olympics, and a flyer for the spring musical. I push them back in my locker and shut the door.
I printed out my class schedule this morning, but I barely even glanced at it before I shoved it into the front pocket of my jeans. I haven’t the slightest clue where I’m supposed to be right now, so I dig it out and open it. First period: AP World Civilizations with Mrs. McGibney. Building C, the one farthest from my locker, clear on the other side of the quad. I check the time on my phone. I’m already five minutes late.
It takes me another five minutes to reach the classroom door, and when I open it, a roomful of faces I haven’t thought about in months turns to look at me. I take a few tentative steps inside, and the next time I look around I see Cameron in the back row. He lifts his hand and gives me a nod.
“You must be my missing student.” McGibney doesn’t look up or stop writing on the whiteboard as she addresses me. “Are you Mr. Cooper?” she asks, but she keeps talking and doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I was just going over the rules of this class. The first one is that I expect my students to be sitting in their seats when the bell rings.”
“Sorry,” I mumble under my breath.
“I give one freebie, and you just used it.” She still hasn’t looked away from the board. I have no idea how she can talk to me and write at the same time, but I’m a little bit impressed. She’s already written the words “First Civilizations” and started a bulleted list below: “agriculture,” “significant cities,” “writing systems.” “Are you going to sit down and join us, Mr. Cooper, or would you prefer to stand by the door for the rest of my class?” She adds a bullet and the words “formal states” as she speaks.
The only empty seat is in the first row, directly in front of her desk, and I can feel every eye watching me as I shuffle across the room and settle in. Trying not to move too quickly, too slowly, or too loudly, I unzip my backpack and remove my notebook and a pencil.
A pencil. I run it back and forth between my fingers as I picture Anna piling her curls on
As I’m picking it up, Brooke leans in close and nudges me with her elbow. “I’m glad you’re home too,” she says.
It feels so strange to lie to Brooke, but I do it anyway. “So am I,” I say.
People keep walking by, but so far no one seems to have noticed that I’m sitting here alone in the Jeep, staring at the door that leads to my locker. The warning bell sounded thirty seconds ago, but I can’t bring myself to leave this spot.
It would be so easy to close my eyes right now, disappear from this car, and open them in a secluded corner of Westlake Academy. I’d go straight to the office and tell Ms. Dawson at the front desk that my family’s plans have changed, I am back in town for my senior year after all, and, if possible, I’d like a class schedule. Then I’d walk the hallway until I found Anna. We’d eat lunch with Emma and Danielle like we always did. That night, while we were sprawled out on her bedroom floor studying together, I’d surprise her by grabbing her hands and transporting her to a quiet spot far away, like a beach in Bora-Bora.
The final bell rings. I reach down for my backpack, throw it over my shoulder, and slam the Jeep door. As I cross the student parking lot, I look down at my jeans and T-shirt. I never thought I’d actually miss the Westlake uniform.
I don’t pass a single person as I climb the staircase that leads to my locker on the third floor, and when I pull up on the latch, the click echoes in the empty hall. Inside, there’s nothing but empty water bottles, a few granola-bar wrappers, and a bunch of loose papers that someone fed through the slats while I was gone. Collectively, they represent everything I missed last spring. There’s a prom court voting ballot, a sign-up sheet for the annual senior class Olympics, and a flyer for the spring musical. I push them back in my locker and shut the door.
I printed out my class schedule this morning, but I barely even glanced at it before I shoved it into the front pocket of my jeans. I haven’t the slightest clue where I’m supposed to be right now, so I dig it out and open it. First period: AP World Civilizations with Mrs. McGibney. Building C, the one farthest from my locker, clear on the other side of the quad. I check the time on my phone. I’m already five minutes late.
It takes me another five minutes to reach the classroom door, and when I open it, a roomful of faces I haven’t thought about in months turns to look at me. I take a few tentative steps inside, and the next time I look around I see Cameron in the back row. He lifts his hand and gives me a nod.
“You must be my missing student.” McGibney doesn’t look up or stop writing on the whiteboard as she addresses me. “Are you Mr. Cooper?” she asks, but she keeps talking and doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I was just going over the rules of this class. The first one is that I expect my students to be sitting in their seats when the bell rings.”
“Sorry,” I mumble under my breath.
“I give one freebie, and you just used it.” She still hasn’t looked away from the board. I have no idea how she can talk to me and write at the same time, but I’m a little bit impressed. She’s already written the words “First Civilizations” and started a bulleted list below: “agriculture,” “significant cities,” “writing systems.” “Are you going to sit down and join us, Mr. Cooper, or would you prefer to stand by the door for the rest of my class?” She adds a bullet and the words “formal states” as she speaks.
The only empty seat is in the first row, directly in front of her desk, and I can feel every eye watching me as I shuffle across the room and settle in. Trying not to move too quickly, too slowly, or too loudly, I unzip my backpack and remove my notebook and a pencil.
A pencil. I run it back and forth between my fingers as I picture Anna piling her curls on
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