“I’m not—” I start, but I totally am.
I’m changing my life, hoping he’ll see how awesome I am and be sorry he went after this Cassie person instead. Which is so immature since I don’t even want to be with him. Sometimes I hate how perceptive my aunt is. She’s also incapable of being mean to anyone, even the hyper-querulous Mr. Addams, who gets in line with four things at the P&K and then argues for half an hour about the price of three of them. Gabby says he’s just lonely.
“You think I should forgive him, don’t you?”
“Is it worth damaging your friendship permanently?” she asks. “Everybody makes mistakes, sweetheart. But if you can live with the possibility that this silence between you might last forever, if that’s what you want, then go ahead.”
“No,” I say softly. “But I also don’t want the whole school thinking we’re back together.”
“Make it clear you’re not.”
“How?” I demand.
“Post it on Facebook.”
Sometimes she just doesn’t get it. “It’s not like the whole school sees my wall. And it would be so lame to write, ‘Dear World, I have forgiven Ryan McKenna, but we are not dating.’”
“I see your point. Then let him squirm a little longer and see what you come up with.”
“Thanks.” I finish up my tea and lean down to hug her.
When I pick up my backpack, I can feel that it’s vibrating. I don’t let on as I carry the bag down the hall. Once I’m in my bedroom, I pull out my cell and check. Four texts from Ryan. Before I read them, sadness suffuses me. Even after I forgive him, things will never be the same between us.
Text one: its been a rly long time since i felt this bad Text two: i miss u, i hate this Text three: so do u like him?
Text four: just tell me what to do That’s the problem; I have no idea. But my aunt’s words echo in my head, and I work my thumbs over the tiny keypad on the phone. Once I type the reply, I hesitate before hitting send.
i dont know
His answer comes so fast that he must’ve been watching for a possible reply. at least ur talking to me again, thats a start I leave it there because I don’t know what else to say. After plugging in my phone, I head to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Peering closer, I see that my cheeks are positively aflame with new freckles from the lot cleanup. Awesome. I spit and rinse, exhausted by this point.
Unlike some nights, I have no trouble whatsoever sleeping, which means I wake up late. I get ready in a hurry, then gulp a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruit. Aunt Gabby is running around with one shoe, but I don’t have time to help her look for it. I aim a kiss at her, but she darts off, so I only hit the back of her head. Close enough.
“I’m gone,” I call, grabbing my phone and my backpack.
My bike is in the shed around back, so I run for it. At this point I’m not even sure if I match, but hopefully, the outfit’s not horrible. I grabbed the first three things I found in my clean laundry basket, so this could be interesting. I pedal like crazy for the first mile, and then—because I’m tired—I slow down. If luck’s with me, I made up enough time so I won’t catch a tardy.
When I coast into the parking lot, a few people are still milling around, but not many. So the warning bell’s already rung, leaving me about a minute to get to class. No time to stop at my locker, but I have everything I need in my backpack. I go through the hall at a dead run, ignoring the teacher who yells at me. I manage to dive into my chair as the second bell rings.
With a start like this, I figure the day’s going to suck.
Only it doesn’t work out that way. Classes are fine; or at least, I don’t get in any major trouble. I sit quietly, turn in homework when requested, and once, I even make eye contact with Ryan and give him a half nod. He still looks exhausted and sad, and I don’t notice anybody who looks worse, which makes me feel good. So I leave him a Post-it on his locker; I can’t tell him he’s everything, but …