Page 59 of Left on Read

What if Lowry really does get me in trouble? What then?

Esha and Piper have both been texting me sporadically throughout the day. Just saying the things they would’ve had they passed me in the hall. Luke asked if I needed him to beat anyone up. I shuddered at the thought. Hayes hasn’t said much since I told him I wouldn’t be at school, maybe sensing that I’m overstimulated.

I thought I would enjoy spending the day in bed, but it’s too quiet in the house and my mind keeps replaying those harmful words over and over again like a broken record. I run my hands through the mountain of blankets I’m buried under, trying to find my phone. By the time I find it tucked under my pillow, I’ve decided I’munderstimulated.So I text him.

Do you want to do something?I ask.After school, I mean.

Sure,he responds almost immediately.History is boring as fuck.

Why do you have such disdain for the humanities?I ask him. Even having the ability to joke right now feels like a miracle.

I don’t. I’ll have you know the girl who sits next to me in English has changed my view of the entire subject.

I want to be flattered by that, but my ability to cut up has fled as quickly as it appeared.

And what if she’s changed HER view on the entire subject?I ask.

There’s a period of silence long enough for me to look out at the window and watch the birds gathered around my mom’s feeder. I pick at the skin around my nails. When I glance back at the screen, I watch those three dots show up and then disappear. They show up again.

She hasn’t,he says in one message. Then:I bet I can prove it.

My eyes roll, and I start to respond when the dots appear again.

If I prove it, I win, and you have to go on a date with me.

We’re dating, and I literally just asked you if you wanted to do something,I fire back.

Yes, I’m trying to be funny,he sends.

So how do you plan to prove that I haven’t given up?My eyes drift to my overcrowded bookshelves. To the pictures of Darcy and Lizzy on my wall. If I really have given up, this room is going to need a makeover. My whole life will need a makeover.

Do you want to go to the bookstore?he asks.

Obviously,I type back reflexively, without considering the implications. Damn it.But that doesn’t mean anything. Normal people go to bookstores. Not just people who devote their lives to the study of literature.

I’ll pick you up in 30.

After those minutes pass, he greets me with that smug grin. And his glasses. Ugh. I wish his face wasn’t so precious to me. I would appreciate a warning next time he’s gonna break out those very cute glasses.

I walk up to where he stands beside his car, and I put my hands on his shoulders and stand on my tiptoes to kiss him.

“You’re late. That was thirty-two minutes,” I say against his lips.

Hayes smiles, and there are so few things I love more than feeling that expression on his mouth against mine. I go to pull away, and he doesn’t let me. His arms stay wrapped around my waist, and his fingers dig into the fabric of the hoodie he still hasn’t realized I stole.

“I don’t know what she said to you.” He sounds low and close. “But it can’t be enough for you to give up on yourself.”

I extricate myself, because I need some space from the conviction in his voice. He lets me go, but I think that’s only because connected like that, we can’t maneuver into the car.

“So, how was school?” I ask as I buckle my seatbelt. It’s a poor attempt at a subject change, and it makes me sound like his mom picking him up from kindergarten, but it’s all I’ve got.

“Weird without you.” He allows the verbal pivot as he backs out of the nearly empty driveway. “As I’m sure you already know.” He heads toward the highway, and I enjoy the passing scenery for a moment.

“On a Wednesday? With our class schedules? You probably wouldn’t have even seen me.” That’s an intentionally pessimistic take, but true nonetheless.

“I know, but”—he shrugs—”it was still weird. I kept thinking you’d be there every time I walked past your spot.”

I shudder at the thought of that bench. “Maybe I need a new spot.”