Jenna shrugs as we collect our books. “Fine.Bathroom?”
I point her in the right direction. “Meet youthere.”
Maybe she’s right and we do all have something tolose.
Because after last night, there won’t be more private rehearsals withTyler.
There can’tbe.
I wish it didn’t hurt so damnedmuch.
* * *
“First day of freedom.How do you feel?” Pen asks as we head to English onMonday.
“Like a newwoman.”
As we filter into the classroom, my gaze lands on the boy in the second row. The messy hair, the broad shoulders under his jacket. When he turns to listen to something Brandon says, I soak in the strong lines of hisprofile.
Tyler and I haven’t spoken since I slammed the bathroom door in his face at therestaurant.
Last night after studying with Pen and Jenna, I practiced in my room, the windowshut.
The text came through afterdinner.
Tyler:We need totalk.
Instead of responding,I’d kept my curtains closed until I turned out my ownlights.
There’s no way to make this better because what I want is for him to take it back. Not what he said, but the resignationafter.
Hell, I’d even take the irrational, angry Tyler over the coolly distantone.
Because that, at least, would be validation that he felt something. That he still feelsit.
“Carly, are you passing notes?” I half hear the teacher’s question, but Carly’s response has me snapping toattention.
“Annie sent it tome.”
The teacher intercepts the message. Denial slams into me as I recognize the paper from my notebook, the paper I’d written on yesterdaymorning.
That’simpossible.
“Annie, why don’t you come up and read this for theclass.”
My legs are blocks of ice as I shove myself out of my seat. I can’t meet Pen’s gaze or Carly’s or anyone’s on my way to the front of theroom.
I take the paper, unfold it, and draw abreath.
No one gets indeep
Exceptyou
You take the shovel from my hands, scrape back thedirt
I watch youdig
Your hands, your arms, yourheart