I nod and smile. I’m not really in a hurry to tell her that I don’t have money to spend on clothing at the moment. I try to save up every cent I get and use it only when absolutely necessary. I used to work in a candy shop on the weekends in Ohio. The pay wasn’t great, but it served me well during emergencies.
When Mom married my dad, her life became all about being a mom and a housewife. She never went to college, which is something she really regrets. She once confided in me that my sisters and I have a college fund, courtesy of her and her parents. No one else other than her and me or my sisters could withdraw money from the account. The money would only be released to us if and when we started college. Dad gives my sisters and I pocket money. It’s not a lot, so we have to make do with what we have. Admitting this to Megs is embarrassing, which is why I let the forced smile linger on my face and turn to study the little shop while trying to work up the courage to walk inside the book nook.
Standing up, I inch toward the book nook. My step falters when a group of boys and girls sitting in a booth a few feet away, stare in my direction and begin to whisper among themselves, while pointing at my arms. I bite the inside of my cheek and drop my gaze to the floor to block the judgmental looks.
“I’m more than enough,” I mutter under my breath. “Nothing else matters.” I whisper these words over and over to drown out their murmurs and gawking.
I’ve been working hard to nurture the new me. Hiding from people and feeling ashamed doesn’t help me achieve that.
Raising my chin, I look up, meeting each and every one of their gazes. My momentary bravery might be stupid. Confronting them could end up hurting me even more than their stares, if they decide to use words as their weapon. But I have accepted what I did. I’m not going to stand by and let anyone make me feel like I’m a freak of nature.
“If you have something to say, say it because it’s rude to stare,” I say in the most polite voice I can muster.
They drop their gazes one by one.
Relief bursts through me when a few whispered “sorry” reach me where I’m standing, nervous and unsure what my next step should be.
I glance back at the door before me, suddenly feeling hot and as if my stomach is full of butterflies. I don’t even know why I’m nervous. It’s not like we don’t see each other every day. Or I haven’t stopped having inappropriate thoughts about his hands touching me, and his mouth kissing me. Heat fans my face. Gah! He will know what I’m thinking as soon as I step inside the room.
I straighten, pluck a lemon drop from my purse and pop it in my mouth. And then I push the ‘Book Nook’ door slightly and duck my head.
Cole is sitting in the corner next to the window, the light streaming in. His shoulders hunched over the sketch book, bottom lip snagged between his teeth as his hand moves swiftly across the page. He is wearing his trademark beanie. A copy of Peter Pan sits on the table. The edges are frayed and the cover is wrinkled and slightly faded. A collection of crumpled papers, pens and what looks like rulers.
I walk back to the counter.
“Did you say hi?” Megs grins at me.
I shake my head. “He seems busy.” I gulp down my coffee and place the empty mug on the vintage Formica counter.
Megs grabs my shoulders and spins me around. “Breath in. Out. Now go in there and talk to that boy.”
I stumble forward before righting myself and send a pretend-glare over my shoulder at Megs. She gives me a thumbs up and winks, and I turn to face the book nook again.
I wish I could read this boy. One moment he is sweeping me into the woods, showing me his tree house and opening up to me, the next he is quiet. Almost too thoughtful. I wonder what goes through his mind when he’s lying next to me on the roof. I remember how his thumb felt against my skin, the warm air fanning my lips when he dipped his head closer to my face. I was so sure he wanted to kiss me.
My life has been full of uncertainties. I just wish I was certain of this thing with Cole. I’m going to find out, one way or another. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. And I’m hoping he will agree to teach me how to sign.
The moment I step inside, I halt and stare around the room. The walls are lined with shelves filled with books to the brim. Four rows of bookcases stand in the middle of the room. Two-seaters are arranged across the room, giving it a cozy feeling. A few kids are perched on the seats, reading or chatting in low voices while others sit on the chairs, heads bent low over desks, working studiously. The music from the other side of the wall doesn’t leak into the room, so I assume some kind of soundproofing system has been installed to keep the noise out.
I turn to face Cole, and as if he senses me, he raises his head and his eyes widen slightly. He’s been invading my space constantly since we moved in next door to his house, and now I’m invading his.