No.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say but don’t mean. I don’t understand at all.
Why do you give me your attention, Mother? I will never meet your expectations.It’s what I want to say, but I don’t. Remember, I’m not brave.
“Good. Now come. We have dinner with the Baldwins tonight. And we need to make plans for you and Natasha.”
“What plans for Nat and me?” I begin to follow my mother, my feet kicking up tiny rocks.
“Remember, Everett, you have a duty to this family. Come now. Stop dragging your feet. It’s improper.”
Then Nat comes up, links her arm through mine, and pulls me to our car.
I glance back at Leora.
She has halted her steps and is looking at me.
Why is she looking at me?
Is she as intrigued by me as I am her? God, I hope so.
I don’t want to get in the car with them. I want to walk with her. I want to talk to her. I want to be with her, in her light.
Take me from this life, Leora Laney.
Take me.
Please.
I’ll run away with you.
Klutz. Definition: Clumsy or stupid person.
The latter defines me more than the former. A stupid person. A stupid girl. Smart girls look where they are going, hold their head high. But not me. I look at the ground. Always at the ground or at him. Never making eye contact is how I stay hidden, invisible. But it is also how I collide with the most solid human I have ever encountered. My life flashes before my eyes. My face heads toward the scuffed-up blue-and-white-checkered linoleum floor of Aurora High.
I woke up this morning feeling optimistic, which is a feeling I rarely experience. But now the universe seems to be mocking me. Today is the first day of senior year, the last year in this mile-wide town. My last year living with her. My last year surrounded by the most vile populace of teenagers who thrive on attacking the different and weak—i.e. me.
And falling on your face in front of the entire hallway is an issue. But it's even worse since the entire hallway is the entire school. It'sprime rib for these scavengers. Like predators drawn to the bird with a broken wing, all eyes turn to me.
“I got you.”
Strong arms halt my sudden descent. The smell of his letterman jacket surrounds me. Leather with hints of cinnamon make my already racing heart soar. My eyes widen in fear at the recognition of his voice. Shit, shit, shit.
I have spent five excruciating years avoiding Everett James Rowan, but here I am. In his arms, paralyzed by embarrassment. It’s not that he is an awful human. He is the all-American star quarterback, the mayor's son, and, of course, incredibly and cruelly handsome. Over the years, all I have seen from him is incredible kindness, to everyone. Even those who, in my opinion, don’t deserve it. The issue is that anyone associated with him is immediately placed in the spotlight. A spotlight I want to avoid more than I want to avoid the bubonic plague. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t stolen glances his way. Okay, so I can’t take my eyes off him when he is in my near vicinity. So what? Sue me. But actually speaking to him? No. Absolutely not.
We have had brief chance encounters over the years. They all resulted from him approaching me, trying to be nice to the quiet girl, I assume. But they all ended with him speaking, me freaking out, him smiling, and then me running away.
He pulls me up with his arms around my shoulders. Then a little pat down, as if he's dusting me off, even though I never even touched the ground. I drag my panicked gaze from the floor, up to his gentle eyes, and stutter out my thanks.
“No problem, although you did shoulder check my throwing arm…” Grabbing his shoulder, he rolls it out and I about die of embarrassment.
You have got to be kidding me. Did I just injure our star quarterback right before the season starts?
"I—." Glancing to his shoulder, I pray that he isn't hurt that bad.
A chuckle leaves his lips, and a dimpled smile graces his face. "I’m kidding. You’re tiny. You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” He winks. He actually winks at me. And did he just call me tiny? Maybe in height, but my size ten hips and butt would disagree.
I don’t respond. I can’t. My voice is stuck in my throat. So instead, I kneel down to collect my books. I expect him to walk away, but he doesn’t. No, he leans down and begins collecting my things with me. Glancing up at him, I try to sneak in a look without him noticing, but his eyes are on me already. His crystal-green gaze dances across my face, like he's playing connect the dots with all the freckles on my face. He is so close, the urge to lean in and… Nope. Jesus, no. I shake my head, clearing away those dangerous thoughts, and quickly avert my eyes. My heart is hammering away like it suddenly sprouted little hummingbird wings.
