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I stare at her as Mrs. Davis tells the class to be quiet, and settle down, and sit.
“I thought you were mad at me.” She’s been avoiding me for days now. Pretty much ever since I got partnered up with Alexa Gibson last week, the most popular girl in our grade.
Izzy rolls her eyes. “Boys are dumb.”
After class, in the hallway, she grabs my hand. Waylon hangs back several feet behind us as we make our way to the cafeteria for lunch. He’s quiet—quieter than usual, and has been since she kissed me. I hope he doesn’t care. I don’t think he likes her in that way, but now I wonder…
During lunch, Izzy tells me she wants me to be her boyfriend.
Tells me we’re gonna get married one day.
I laugh at that, but I don’t let her hand go.
It feels nice.
She squeezes my palm. “I mean it, Mason.”
Her warm brown eyes are very serious when she says this, her smile soft.
She’s so pretty.
The prettiest girl I know.
“We’re gonna be just like my parents,” she tells me.
So I nod and say, “Okay. Okay,” because that sounds really nice.
I love her parents. They’re happy. I wanna be happy like that.
Makes me wish Mom had that too. Maybe she’ll find someone new…
And then, over our lunch trays, in front of Will and Waylon and the entire cafeteria, I kiss Izzy—quick, but soft right on the lips, just like she kissed me. Just like I’ve seen her dad kiss her mom, and Gavin kiss Linda. Just like Clark kisses Lois and Reed kisses Sue and Peter kisses Mary Jane.
It feels nice.
Good.
I feel special.
Of all the boys in our grade…
She picked me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mom’s crying.
I don’t know what time it is, but it feels late. She told me to try and get some sleep, but it’s so loud here in the ER. I just wanna go home and sleep in my own bed, not this creaky one with the itchy blankets.
When I crack my eyes open, all I see is a thick curtain. On the other side, I hear Mom sniffle, and when I look down, I can make out two pairs of shoes coming together. When Dad talks, it’s muffled, and I imagine they must be hugging.
“He’s gonna be okay.”
“Is he?” Mom says, her voice breaking. “Maybe…maybe we need to move. Go somewhere more accepting and…” Whatever else she says is lost to a whooshing in my ears. All I can focus on is that first part.
Move.
I don’t wanna move.
