Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Family, #General, #Orphans & Foster Homes, #Social Issues, #Adolescence, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse
Autumn
A COLD RAIN
Is falling this morning.
Not unusual for October.
It rains a lot in San Antonio.
Warm
rain. Cool rain. Steamy
hot rain in the summer.
That part of my life, at least,
has stayed constant. Not
like
the rest of it has. Aunt
Cora, who has fallen out
of her senses in love,
is absent much too often.
I’ve
met Liam and understand
why she wants to spend
time with him. But I need
to talk, and I could
never
ask Grandfather the kind
of stuff I need to know.
I recently entered unfamiliar
territory. A place I’ve never
been before.
AN OLD MAXIM GOES
Love is in the air. Seems like
the October air was heavy
with it. Aunt Cora inhaled a
big whiff. And somewhat
incredibly, so did I.
It’s totally crazy.
I’m scared.
I don’t know enough about
being in love to insist that I
really am. But I definitely feel
something for Bryce, and
I’m almost positive he
feels something
for me.
But how do I know for sure
if what I feel is anything more
than gratitude for him paying
attention to me? And how can
I tell if he feels anything
more than sorry
for me?
CHERIE SAYS
Don’t overthink things.
Go with the flow, see
where it takes you. Love
is unpredictable, you know.
Not that I listen much
to what Cherie has to say,
and not that I’ve really
discussed my feelings
with her, except to half
answer her nosy questions.
He’s really cute, isn’t he?
You really like him, huh?
Well, duh and duh. But I say,
“Yeah, he is. And wouldn’t you?”
Did he ask you out yet?
Did he kiss you yet?
“No and no.” Just thinking
about kissing him makes me
nervous. All I know about kissing
is what I’ve seen in the movies.
Still, I have to admit the idea
does intrigue me more than a little.
I try to look nonchalant about
how I feel. But it must be obvious
to anyone with eyes how
I can’t keep my own eyes
off Bryce. It’s like my irises
are made of iron and
he’s a head-to-toe magnet.
That’s not hard to understand.
He’s adorable. Smart. Funny.
What I really don’t get
at all, though, is why
the attraction is mutual.
Bryce is caviar. I am
more like canned sardines.
MAYBE I’M WRONG
About the attraction
being mutual after all.
As always lately, when I get
to school, I immediately
scan the halls for Bryce,
and when I finally spot him,
he is nose to nose with
Tiffany Garcia. My cheeks
flame. Is everybody looking?
Tick-tick-tick-tick
goes
my heart. Fast. Faster.
My fingers start to tingle.
No. Not now. Everybody
is
looking, and if I freak
out, I’m completely ruined.
As I take deep and deeper
breaths, a voice falls over
my shoulder.
What’s up with that?
Cherie. Just perfect. Inhale.
“I really don’t know.” It’s all
I can find enough air to say.
I JERK MY LOCKER OPEN
Hard. Too Hard.
The neat stacks spill
into each other, onto
the floor. Now everyone
is gawking my way for sure.
Are you okay?
Cherie’s question
is laced with concern.
I must look ready to pass
out or die or something.
And maybe I am.
“Yes … No. Uh-uh-
uh …” Great. Let’s
add stuttering to my list.
“I don’t know. I mean …”
I’d be mad too.
Tiffany is a total
slut. Almost every guy
here has gone all the way
around the world with her!
Okay, it’s a slight
exaggeration, but
I’m in no mood to
disagree. “It doesn’t
matter. Not like I own him.”
The truth of that
stings. My eyes tear
up, and I wish Cherie
would just go away, let me
wallow alone in my misery pit.
As if reading,
my mind, she says,
There’s Billy. I need to
ask him something. I’ll be
back in a few minutes, okay?
“I’m fine, Cherie.
Go on.” At least
my locker door is
between me and Bryce.
Except there, on the ugly
brown linoleum,
my history book and
chemistry notebook
huddle, open-covered.
I’ll have to pull my face
out from behind
the rusting metal
to get hold of them.
Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick!
Blood whooshes in my ears.