Meant to Be by Lauren Morrill

Author:Lauren Morrill [Morrill, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780375987113
Publisher: Delacorte Press
Published: 2012-11-13T08:00:00+00:00

i want 2 get 2 know u better. —C

“Can I sit here?”

I’m surprised to find Susan standing over me. Her perfectly flatironed hair is held back by a red headband with a dainty little bow. It matches the red in her cardigan and the red patent leather flats on her feet.

“Uh, sure,” I reply, scooting my notebook closer to give her room at my standard corner table. I’m frankly happy to have her join me. I figured Jason might sit with me at dinner, but he’s been ignoring me since the impromptu dance performance at the bookstore.

As if on cue, I hear riotous laughter coming from across the dining room. Jason is sitting with a group of guys and they’re launching dinner rolls off their forks. Typical. I notice Ryan is sitting with them. Their table is full, which explains why Susan is sitting with me and not over there, hanging on every “dude” Ryan is uttering.

Awesome. I’m the reject table.

“So what have you been—” I say, but Susan has already pulled out a thick copy of British Vogue and is engrossed in its pages. Susan probably joined me at my table because she figured it was the place to page through her magazine without being bothered.

A dinner roll sails over our table and bounces off the wall behind me. I look up to see Ryan and Jason raising their forks in triumph.

“Ugh, isn’t he the worst?” Instantly, magazine forgotten, Susan whips around to stare at the boys’ table. “Such a child.”

“Seriously,” I say. Thank God Susan Morgan and I have something to talk about: our mutual dislike for Jason. “It’s like he’s incapable of acting like a normal human. And that gum! What high school boy do you know that chews that much grape gum? So gross.”

Susan looks slightly puzzled. “What?” she says; then she shakes her head. “Oh, I meant Ryan. He’s, like, so ridiculous.”

“Oh,” I reply. I guess Susan and I don’t have anything in common.

“Jason’s actually not that bad,” she continues. “He totally bailed me out last spring when my computer ate my final paper for Freeman’s AP English class. He lent me his computer right away—and his notes were soooo much better than mine! I would have, like, totally failed if it weren’t for him.”

“Oh,” I say again. Even though I’m sitting down, I feel curiously disoriented. Jason lent Susan his computer just to be nice? Even stranger, Jason takes notes in class?

“Yeah. Jason’s kind of the best, actually,” Susan chirps. Then she returns to her magazine, and just like that, I’m alone again.

I turn to my own notes, trying to make sense of all the madness I’ve been writing. I’m going to have to crank out a reflection paper later, and there’s no way I can be thorough with the mess I’ve got in front of me. My brain feels like it’s doing freestyle laps through a pool of lime Jell-O. Well, maybe I can’t blame my notes entirely. It was a long walk

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