Haunt Me by Liz Kessler

Author:Liz Kessler [Kessler, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7636-9380-0
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2016-09-17T04:00:00+00:00

Three things that happen in the café that afternoon that completely throw me off balance.

Thing one: time passes really quickly.

Thing two: we seem to laugh quite a lot. I don’t even know what we laugh about. Stupid things, like showing each other our favorite YouTube videos (his: the one with a guy falling off a playground ride; mine: the one with a ferret falling off a cupboard) and then laughing about trying to figure out why falling over is so funny.

Thing three: I feel really comfortable with him. We talk so easily. Not even about anything. It’s not like with Joe, where everything we talk about feels important and intense. In fact, it’s probably the opposite. We chat about the bad weather and stupid school rules and TV and — I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It’s just easy.

All of which adds up to a fourth thing: a helping of guilt so heavy it actually feels like a weight settling on my shoulders. And in my heart.

I can’t be doing this.

But then, what am I doing that’s so bad? It’s only a coffee.

I check my watch. It’s nearly six thirty.

“Sorry, am I boring you?” Olly asks, with that slow smile that only the confident can smile. So different from Joe’s. It seems to come so easily. Joe’s is a hard-won prize.

“Actually, no, I was just thinking how fast the time has passed.” I bite my lip immediately. Did that sound like I was flirting? I can’t flirt with him.

“Me, too,” Olly says, smiling again. “We should do it again.”

That has me stumped. I mean, really. Why? Why is he interested in me? Am I just a challenge because I’m not fawning all over him? Is he just the type who wants what he can’t have?

Either way, it’s time I did something about getting the information I came for. I spent last night rereading Joe’s poems, looking for clues, looking for answers. I didn’t find any — but I did at least find some questions. Some of them jumped out at me like big signposts. The line in his poem about Olly:

AND YET STILL HE’S THE ONE I CAN TELL ANYTHING.

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