Page 28 of Left on Read

“Raven? Like Poe? Why do you like that guy so much? Did you get a black cat because of ‘The Black Cat’? Isn’t that his story that’sreally spooky and violent?” He asks all this as Raven, unblinking like a statue, perches herself on the corner of the desk to stare at him better.

“Yes.” I pet her black fur, and she starts to grumble. She doesn’t purr, really. “One of them. You just don’t understand the appeal of gothic literature.”

“Where did she come from? I didn’t know you had a cat. She’s so silent. Is she a ghost?”

“She came from the closet. She likes closets because they’re dark and quiet, and she likes mine the best ‘cause it smells better than the boys’.”

Raven tiptoes over the stuff I have spread across the desk with her precious little toe beans. She reaches the opposite corner near the window where my jewelry display is, and she bats at the tail of one oversize white satin bow that’s rippling in the breeze. I chuckle. That one’s her favorite for some reason. It has tiny bite marks all over it.

“Do you not wear those, or am I not paying attention?” Hayes asks, eyeing Raven’s attack on the bow.

“I used to,” I tell him. “I don’t anymore. I want people to take me seriously, and ribbons made me look younger.”

“I get it,” He shrugs. “But don’t you like them?”

I do. I love them. Bows, ribbons, slips, headbands. Maybe Ishouldwear them again. They’re in. Everybody else is. Why am I denying myself, really?

“It’s weird how I’ve known you this long, and I’ve never beento your house before.” Hayes reaches behind him, pulling a random book off my shelf. He better put it backexactlywhere he found it. I have a delicate shelving system that would take way too long to explain.

“I guess so.” I lower one foot to the ground, spinning around in tiny arcs in my desk chair. “But it’s not like we were ever friends.”

“I guess not.” His voice lowers, and he suddenly won’t look at me. I don’t like it. For someone who has to force eye contact to appear normal, I’m really starting to hate these little moments where he averts his gaze.

I wince. The breezy air in the room has turned cold.

“So, we’re still enemies, but you don’t hate me? You want to be … like … friends?” I ask. “How does that work?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “It just does.”

For a split second, I let myself melt a little. And I finally open my notebook, like I meant to do the moment he got here.

“Okay, well. Let’s start working,” I say, clearing my throat.

“I know we have all of your big ideas, and they’re great, but what do I need to do?”

I pick at the skin around my pinkie. The cuticle starts to bleed. Shit. I’ve got to stop doing that.

“I’m not sure,” I mutter under my breath. It’s not that I doubt him. It’s just that I don’t know how to give this up.

“Okay, but I have to do something. I have to pull my weight somehow. I’m not gonna be that guy.”

A chuckle falls from my lips without my permission. I knowwhat he means: He’s not going to be the guy who does nothing but gets a good grade anyway.

“Well, I basically made an outline for the paper. That’s what you read in the notebook the other day.”

“Right.” He nods. “ ‘Comparing darkness and light. Life and death. Horrific and romantic.’ I get it. We’re arguing thatcontrastsgive power to gothic fiction. Very smart.”

I nod back. If my heart does the tiniest little dance across my chest, it’s because of my stellar ideas. Absolutely nothing else.

“Could you handle the slide deck? Like if I make an outline of our argument. I’m not good at the aesthetics or breaking up what I want to say into manageable chunks. If you could take the presentation off my plate so I can focus more on that—”

“Sure,” he says. Like it’s that easy. “Should we shake on it? Pinkie promise? Put our hands in the middle and yell ‘American Lit’ on three?”

I roll my eyes. Each time I do that around him, it feels more and more affectionate.

So privately, internally, I keep wondering: If we’re not really enemies and we’re definitely not friends, what are we?

OfficialEndeavourHigh:During homeroom this week, your teacher will be reminding you all of what a library study room is and is not used for. There’ll be a form that requires your signature.