Promposal by Rhonda Helms

Author:Rhonda Helms
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Camilla

Ugh. For whatever reason, this Thursday was the slowest day in the history of slow days. First period felt like it lasted twelve hours. By the time I got to psych, my last class for the day, I was dragging ass.

I plopped into my seat, and Benjamin glanced at me over his shoulder.

“Late night?” he commented with an eyebrow raised.

My lips twitched, and a little bit of life infused in me. “Not really.” Though I had stayed up a little later than usual working on my solo portion of our group project, where we evaluate each other and discuss our overall thoughts, how we felt the project personally impacted us, et cetera.

“Class, we have a lot of information to get through today, and I also want to allow you time to finish up your projects.” Mrs. Brandwright perched on the edge of her desk, and the class noise settled to quiet. “I hope you’ve made good progress, because they’re due tomorrow.”

There were a few stifled groans around us. I heard Carter sigh from behind me. Mrs. Brandwright had pulled us aside and mentioned Carter would be doing his own project, due to missing school for the last several days from illness. So we didn’t need to include him in our work. I was glad he was feeling better but also a bit relieved we weren’t dependent on him anymore.

She began to give her lecture, and I dutifully wrote notes. We were wrapping up our discussion of social mores, and I had to admit, I was curious what would be next. Were there more group projects in our future? Could I possibly be paired with Benjamin again? No, there hadn’t been another kiss. But we’d been talking every day this week, passing notes, discussing books and music and art.

There was a tap on my knee. My heart did that painful, excited thud it always did when he passed me a note. I dropped my hand down and grabbed it, unfolded it.

What book made you uncomfortable to read as a kid?

I bit my lower lip to keep from giggling out loud at the first one that popped into my mind. But I couldn’t hide my smirk as I scrawled, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret on the paper. Then added, It was accompanied by The Talk, along with an awkward demonstration on pads.

I handed it back to him. Paper rustled. I heard him laugh, which he covered quickly with a cough. My grin widened.

The note was passed back.

Sounds like there’s a story in there. My mom drew pictures as well when I got The Talk. Also checked out books on anatomy. It was scarring.

I chewed on the end of my pen. As I tried to come up with something witty to reply, my phone buzzed. I dug it out of my pocket.

Roses, right? But do you have a color preference? It’s for the corsage.

I should be happy that my prom date was so attentive to my needs. But it felt like an interruption.

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