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Sitting huddled by the barred window of my dorm room, I write in my diary.
Or try to.
But no words will come and neither will sleep.
But then my phone lights up with a call and I get jarred awake.
As if from a trance.
Instead of the name ‘Bossman’ flashing like I expected, it’s a number.
I have it memorized. I know who it belongs to.
And my heart starts beating so loud that I’m surprised that the 24/7 warden camped out at the front reception doesn’t come barging into my room, checking to see what the ruckus is all about.
With shaking fingers, I accept the call and put the phone to my ear. “Lucas?”
“Hey,” he greets me.
“What… You’re calling me,” I say.
“I figured I should.”
“How did you… How did you get this number? No one has this number. No one even knows…”
Oh.
Someone does have this number.
Him.
He’s the only person who has it and he gave it to Lucas. Didn’t he?
He gave my number to Lucas to call.
And I don’t have to wonder about his intentions; I already know.
He did it to help me. He did it to help Lucas.
To help bring us together.
“I’ve been calling you all day,” Lucas says then.
“Uh, my phone…” I lick my lips. “I keep it switched off. We aren’t allowed phones at St. Mary’s.”
He goes silent for a second before going, disinterestedly, “Right. Okay. Anyway.”
And I have to admit that his disinterest in my affairs pricks me a little.
But it’s okay.
There are other things to worry about than my ex-boyfriend not being interested in my reform school.
“Listen, about last night,” Lucas begins. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I took things too far.”
I wrap my arm around my midriff and whisper, “You were angry.”
He sighs. “I was.”
