The Memory Book

“Thank you,” he said. Then, “Are you all right?”


“I just want to say…” I began, and took a step backward, meeting his eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t like me as much as I like you. You can just tell me.”

“I mean…” he started, and tilted his head. “You never said how much you liked me.”

I took in what I hoped would be the last in a string of deep breaths. “Can I tell you?”

He smiled a slow smile. “Yes, I would like that.”

“I’m sorry if this is weird. God. I’ve got the social skills of… of a Neanderthal.”

He laughed, his black eyes flashing at me and then upward, tossing his head back, which sent a wave of looseness through my whole body, on the whole Philosophy section, the whole library. The books got a little brighter. I laughed with him.

“I like you a lot,” I said.

“I like you a lot, too,” he said. “If you can’t tell.”

“I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t read social cues very well. I was just told that recently.”

Then he kissed me deeply, and that was the perfect thing to do, because it felt good, yes, but also because I understood it fully, and to be honest, it was maybe the first time those two had gone together.





ALTERNATIVE RESOURCES, PHASE TWO


Lying in the nurse’s office, watching the clock. I “threw up” my breakfast in the classroom trash can with the help of a sip of a smoothie I held in my mouth for ten minutes. The school wanted to call my parents, but I told them it was an expected side effect of Zavesca, and began to list all of them until the nurse was disgusted, and she dropped it. All the rest of my classmates are taking their AP Euro final. When the final’s over, I’ll “recover” and take the test in the library later today, where no one will watch me consult my notes if (and ONLY IF) I need them.

I probably could have done it, but I didn’t want to take any chances on drawing a blank, especially with my mind swinging back and forth from Stuart to school to Stuart again.

After the reading, we had found a spot on the Dartmouth campus to kiss and talk and kiss some more. He tried to run his fingers through my hair and couldn’t, because my curls are so thick and tangled. We laughed and he kissed my neck, which sent horses through my stomach again—not just horses, Shadowfax, the Lord of all horses—and I put my hand under his shirt and, actually, never mind, it’s too weird to be typing about this in the nurse’s office.

Almost over.

Every time Mrs. Dooley, the nurse, looks at me I try to look forlorn and take a little sip of water.

And who walks in but Cooper himself, employing his own method. I wave at him but he’s putting a finger to his lips, pointing at the nurse, and sitting down beside me with a big, fake-sick sigh.

I’m pretending to type something important on this Word document.


How’s it going, Coop?

“fainted” in my comp sci final This system is nuts. My heart is beating so fast.

it’s working though am i right I can’t believe it’s working.

welcome to the last four years of my life LOL

you’re sitting right beside me, you don’t have to type LOL, you can just laugh I’m afraid if I laugh they’ll think I’m not sick.

whatever you do, don’t laugh right now GODDAMMIT now I’m laughing

hahahahha :)





BIKINI BOTTOM


Watching SpongeBob with the family on Saturday night, because it’s Davy’s turn to pick what movie we watch. I pretended to complain with Harrison and Bette, but as you know, I secretly think this show is hilarious. And to be honest, Squidward reminds me a lot of myself.

I texted Maddie, by the way. I told her I was sorry again and asked if she wanted to meet up. She just texted back, “It’s cool,” and ignored the second part. She’s probably really busy. Every time I see her at school, she is leaving with a group of screaming, happy people on their way somewhere. I wonder if she heard about me and Stuart being, like, a real thing. Then again, I don’t know if Stuart is telling anyone about us, or, if he is, what he’s saying.

This makes me wonder.


Me: You working?

Stuart: Yeeessss what’s up?

Me: Am I your girlfriend?

Stuart: The title of your memoir will be “Sammie McCoy: Cutting to the Chase”

Me: Seriously, though, am I?

Stuart: Let’s talk about it in person. Later tonight when I get off?



I look over at Mom and Dad, Davy sprawled on their laps, Bette between Mom’s knees as she brushes her hair. I remember how sad Mom’s eyes were when she asked me to spend more time with them. I remember my NPC Task Force, and how I am trying to be less selfish.


Me: I can’t, I’m with my family tonight.

Stuart: Ah, ok. Tomorrow?

Me: Okay. But if you were to give a short answer now, what would it be?

Lara Avery's books