“Earth to Leora…”
“Huh? Sorry. I got a little lost.”
Ski is staring at me with concern in his eyes. “Did the bullying start up again?”
Right before seventh grade, my mom moved us here from Washington and the bullying started, but he didn't tolerate it. I was here every day after school to do homework. Coming here was the only way I could get anything done. One day, he noticed some girls picking on me and kicked them out. I vividly remember him telling them they couldn’t come back until they found some manners. It was the first time anyone had ever defended me. Eventually people got bored of me. I never fought back, so what’s the fun in poking a lion if it never roars?
“No, nothing like that. I, huh, was asked on a date?" I say it like a question because, well, I'm still not sure if that really happened.
His eyebrows shoot up in shock then morph into a frown. Happiness and protectiveness fighting inside his irises. “By whom?”
“It doesn’t matter. I said no. Well, technically I ignored the question. But same thing, right? I can’t get attached. Stick to the plan.”
“Smart girl.” He remarks as he heads to the back.
Am I, though? I think about Everett and the way he made me feel today. My heart-wings start beating, and I feel like I'm soaring.
Stupid, stupid girl.
The walk to school is dreadful. It is warmer than I was expecting, and the sweat is making my curls stick to the back of my neck. Approaching the parking lot of school, I see Everett sitting on his tailgate, his buddies surrounding him as usual. His bright gaze meets mine, and he gives me a dimpled grin. I immediately look down.
After brushing my way through the halls, doing my best to avoid bumping into anyone, I walk into chemistry, and another heart-shaped note is on my desk. I’m the first one here, so he must have come in early to drop it off. Did he do that so no one would see him talking to me?Why are you assuming it's from him? Getting hopeful are we?
Even with that doubt in my head, excitement fills my body and a small smile tugs at my lips involuntarily.Bad sign, Leo. Bad freaking sign!I need to snip this budding rose of a crush away.
I walk to the trash can and let the note hang over the top. My brain tells my fingers to release their grip, to let go of the hold that Everettsuddenly placed upon me. But my traitorous fingers won't drop the note.
Cursing him as I walk back to my desk, I fall into my chair at the sheer emotional exhaustion this boy is putting me through. I give in reluctantly and open his note. His barely legible scribble makes butterflies erupt in my stomach. Just knowing that he took the time to write this does something to me.
Leo. I like that.
I like you.
And no such thing as rest for me.
I've got pretty birds to chase.
—Ev
My cheeks hurt from trying to fight the smile on my face. I read the note over and over again. He likes me? Like, likes me, or maybe as a person, a friend? God, why is he doing this to me? Why is he making me blush and smile and igniting little birds inside my chest? And what does he mean "pretty birds to chase?"
If he really knew me, though, he wouldn’t like me. Compared to him, I am nothing. Insignificant. Disgraceful. Trash. It’s what they all call my mother. By extension, I am the same in their eyes. I am meant for an average life. His is meant for a brightness and success that will consume all those around him, in the best way. He already consumes so much around him, filling this dull town with so much vibrance.
I strengthen my will, tuck the note away, and decide I will not reply. I will not engage in any more silly little notes. I will ignore him and my heart. I will make it out of here. Nothing and no one will keep me from my escape, not even him.
My leg bounces, and I run my fingertips over the rim of my water bottle as I wait for him. Shit. No, as I wait for class to start. Students begin to file in, and he comes in last. I don’t make eye contact.Ignore him. Ignore him. Don’t look. Don’t look.
He bumps into my table, faking that he didn’t see the corner of it. The sudden jolt of my desk makes my eyes fly up to him. Stupid reflexes.
“Oh man, I’m such a klutz. Sorry about that.” He says it in a voice that tells me he is, in fact, not sorry at all.
He reaches down and picks up the pencil he knocked off. When he sets it back down on my desk, he leaves another note and walks away cool as a cucumber, while I'm freaking out! I wonder if others can see my shaking hands or if it's just in my head.
I hate that he is making me nervous, but still, I open the note.
I know you probably aren't going to reply to the last note.
But I want to inform you that I am a stubborn guy, so I'm going to keep bothering you until you talk to me.
