P.S. I Like You

“I am going to hang on to this. When you bring up your Chemistry grade, I will turn it over. Until then … ” He opened his desk drawer and dropped it in. “It’s mine.”


It took all my will power not to drop to my knees and beg Mr. Ortega to have mercy on my poor overworked nerves. I grabbed my backpack and headed for the door. The halls were empty, everyone already at lunch. If Cade had written me a positive response upon finding out my identity, wouldn’t he be standing in the hall right now with his amazing smile telling me he wanted to get married and have indie rock babies with me? Unless he hadn’t gotten my letter at all and still didn’t know who I was.

I replayed the final words Mr. Ortega said over and over. I pictured the note falling into the open desk drawer. I needed that letter. I was going to get that letter. It would tell me if Cade had gotten mine. It would tell me if I needed to avoid him forever or not.



I sent my sister a text during final period telling her I was getting a ride home with Isabel. Then I sent Isabel one too, hoping she’d agree to that ride. And I added: Want to help me steal some keys from the front office after school so I can rescue the letter??

I’d told her what had happened during lunch. She was just as horrified as I was. Her solution was for me to just tell Cade face-to-face. My solution was one that might save me a lifetime of humiliation depending on what the letter said.

Now, she texted back: Of course I do. I’ll distract, you retrieve.

And that’s where I was now. Retrieving.

I could hear Isabel’s voice at the front desk talking to Mrs. Clark. I had snuck in the back door of the main office and was heading for the long desk. Isabel had a tough job. She not only had to distract Mrs. Clark while I stole the keys, but the whole time I was gone too so that I could put them back without her discovering they were missing. I’d promised Isabel I’d be as fast as possible. I’d also promised her an ice cream sundae, but that wasn’t helpful to think about now.

Mr. Ortega didn’t have a seventh-period class so I knew he’d be long gone. I only hoped he hadn’t locked his desk like he did the door.

The keys were easy to get; I’d used them before because I was trustworthy and responsible. I was pretty sure I would single-handedly destroy that reputation with Mrs. Clark if she saw me now.

I tucked the keys into my pocket so they wouldn’t jingle and rushed back outside. Once out, I picked up my pace to a run. I was not a runner. I did not like to run. But I ran like I meant it.

Maybe I should’ve joined the cross-country team after all because I wasn’t half bad at this. For about one stretch of sidewalk. By the time I made it to the Science building, I had cursed not only the entire cross-country team, but the sport as a whole. I had a cramp that was sending a painful jolt up my side and I could barely breathe.

In front of the door to Chemistry, I bent over at the waist to gulp some air. Then I remembered Isabel talking to Mrs. Clark and I straightened up and began the process of elimination to find the key.

I had tried five on the ring of what felt like five hundred when the door at the end of the hall slammed shut. I shoved another key in and as luck would have it, the lock turned and I slipped into safety.

The room was dark, the blinds drawn, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. I crept forward, my hands out in front of me. I had made it to the back row of desks when the door swung open and I turned around with a gasp, frantically thinking of a way to explain myself to Mr. Ortega.

But it wasn’t Mr. Ortega. It was Cade, his dazzling smile lighting up the room. The door shut behind him with a click.

“Have I started you down a pathway of crime?” he asked.

I tried to catch my breath again. “Are you trying to take credit for this?”

“I called your name outside but you were running like someone was chasing you.”

“I’m practicing for cross-country.”

“You are?”

“No, I’m not. Running is the worst. Why do people do that on purpose?”

He smiled. “Those aren’t exactly the right shoes for it.”

I looked down at my purple Docs. He was right; they were too heavy for running.

He glanced around the room. “So what are you doing?”

“Don’t you have baseball practice?” I wiped at a bead of sweat on my temple.

“I was heading there when I saw you.”

“Do you have to run at baseball practice?”

“Sometimes.”

“I’m sorry.”

Cade smiled. “I know I’m not the most observant person in the world, but I get the feeling you don’t want to answer my question.”

I laughed. “What gives you that idea?”

“Oh I don’t know … ”

Isabel was going to kill me if I didn’t get rid of him soon and get on with the task.

“Did you change your mind?” he asked.

“Change my mind? About what?”