Then You Were Gone by Lauren Strasnick

Author:Lauren Strasnick
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781442427150
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

35.

Eight fifteen a.m. I’m a cartoon burglar tiptoeing down the hall to lit—holding my breath, then peering through the tiny rectangular window to Murphy’s classroom. There he is, at the pulpit. And there’s Julian in the pews. I back away, chewing my cheeks. I’m sans essay and not facing Murphy until I finish the thing.

I go outside to wait. For what? I twiddle my thumbs and chew a cherry cough drop. I twirl in place. I do it again. Chaîné turns. Pirouettes. I’m twirling and twirling when I smack into something tall, skinny, and warm.

“Crap.”

There’re two of us on the cement sidewalk, an explosion of papers and books.

“Wyatt.”

“Jesus, Knox.” He’s rubbing his shoulder with one hand and sweeping his stuff into a pile with the other. “Fancy dance moves.”

“Sorry, god, sorry.” I’m up on my knees and grabbing at smashed loose-leaf.

“My fault,” he says. “Wasn’t watching the road.” He’s pretty, up close. Bright but not blinding.

“Here, I’ll get this.” I lunge for the last of it. Two stiff sheets of notepaper with—holyshitamazing—Kate’s curly writing.

“That’s mine,” he says, snatching it back.

“Yours, huh?”

He’s all shades of red and scrambling to his feet.

“Sorry about—” He waves at me, still on the ground. “Can you get up?”

“I’m fine,” I insist, dazed.

“Great. Good.” He’s batting the letter. “Bye, then.”

“Sure,” I say, waving as he walks. “See ya around.”

• • •

Lunch. Lee’s birthday.

Me, Kate, Lee, sharing a sleeve of Fig Newtons and throwing shit (pen caps, paper clips, baby carrots) at each other’s faces. We’re laughing. I’m in Lee’s lap. I’m making an effort. I can be good. I can be a nice girlfriend and a better best friend.

“Missed.” Kate’s crouching down, smiling. She eats the carrot I tried to nail her nose with.

“Sit up.” I take aim again, throw, and—bull’s-eye—hit her forehead hard with a pen cap.

“Ow.”

Lee and I high-five. I feel good for a sec—bright, cheery—then I don’t. Just like that—a momentary flash of something sweet, followed by a whole bunch of nothingness. He squeezes my thigh. “Nice shot.”

I smile. Back to faking it.

“Tonight,” he says.

“Right, tonight.” B-day dinner with Lee’s folks. I’m dreading it. I adore them. They’ll see straight through me.

“Pick you up at seven?”

I nod.

“Great.” Then, “Get up,” he instructs. I do. “Getting a Coke. Anyone want anything?”

No one wants anything.

“What?” Kate says after Lee leaves—because I’m grimacing, maybe? Or glaring?

“Write any love sonnets lately?”

“Sorry?”

“Or send any sexy letters?”

Her cheeks flush. She straightens up. “Sonnets? No.”

“Katie.”

“What?” She’s embarrassed. A rarity. The girl barely ever has a vulnerable moment. “I wrote him a note.” She shrugs.

“Saying what?”

“‘Hi. Stellar weather. Cute boots.’” She pauses. “How do you even know about that?”

“Bumped into him. This morning. Literally, we, like, collided. It fell out of his bag.”

“Oh.” She sits back. “Well, why hasn’t he responded?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, why doesn’t he love me?”

“Katie.” I open my arms and she curls against my chest.

“I’m not pretty enough.”

“You’re a knockout.”

“I’m not slutty enough.”

“You’re the sluttiest.”

I hug her harder. Lee’s in the distance with a soda can. He looks so upbeat and moony.

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