one
Elinora
Ten years ago . . .
“Excuse me, do you mind crying a little more quietly?” A raspy voice floated from above my head. I cringed in embarrassment. Someone found me, unsuccessfully hiding behind the only old and knotted tree at the park across from my house. Clenching my eyes, I willed the tears to go away. It was the last day of sophomore year of high school, and I was desperately trying to forget how it had morphed into a horrible day.
Riley had broken up with me. Honestly, I wasn’t even that sad about our breakup. I was more upset because Riley was popular—and I had not been before we started dating. Before Riley, I had been repeatedly bullied by the mean girls in school and spent my lunch hours hiding in bathroom stalls. Call it a collision of the stars, but somehow Riley had gotten matched up with me at the tutoring center after he’d failed literature, and—a giant flashing streak of lightning shock—he started to likeme.
Or maybe he’d only wanted my anatomy lab answers?
Either way, when I’d showed up on his arm at the homecoming game, I’d gained instant respect. I hadn’t gotten shoved into one locker while we were dating. Until today when I’d gotten a one-way departure ticket from the cool table to first-class toilet swirlies again. I was pretty sure I was going to corpse-out against this tree. I was being theatrical but I always excelled at language arts.
It was smoldering outside, even for Florida. My tears were mixing with my forehead sweat. I swiped at my eyes until I could clearly see who was speaking to me, and my jaw dropped. He was beautiful, with dramatic, dark cobalt eyes, the same color as the sapphires on my mom’s ring, and I immediately froze, forgetting what he had asked of me. “Excuse me but what did you say?”
“I was wondering if you could be quiet.”
“Ah, can’t you find somewhere else to sit?” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation. I wasn’t going to back down so easily and squared my shoulders.
He held his neutral expression, clearly not understanding how upset I was. “It’s the only shady spot, and my tightwad grandma refuses to turn the air on in my house until June.”
“I guess.” I muttered as I clumsily slid over, trying to put distance between us while remaining in the shade as much as I could. I wasn’t giving in to this rude boy, I just didn’t have it in me to fight.
Mumbling indecipherable words under his breath, he plopped down. He was dressed in fashionably ripped jeans and a long-sleeved fleece shirt—something you never see in Florida in May— making it obvious he wasn’t from here. He dropped a heavy sigh as he opened the flap on his backpack and retrieved a book with a plain fabric cover.
I was a huge nerd and readallthe books. Books were life. My interest was full-throttle, and my gaze wandered to the words onthe page. It wasn’t anything I recognized, and eventually, I let my curiosity win. “What are you reading?”
“A Movable Feast.” His words came out in one giant, impatient slur without pauses between them.
“Is it a cookbook?” Not having eaten lunch, I inched closer. I was starving since I’d had to return to my third-stall-throne to avoid getting bullied.
“It’s Hemingway.”
My gut lowered.Was this guy for real?I’d read Ernest before as part of my literature class, and he was intense. A deep thinker who strung words together in a way that made me think love was painful yet beautiful to a fault. Most of the boys in the class had yawned through the paragraphs while the girls had gotten all swoony. He must be doing homework. “How is it?”
“Hey, Chatterbox.” His gaze flicked up in one quick motion. “If you don’t mind, I prefer not to talk.”
“Sorry?” It came out more like a question than an apology even though he was the one who’d invaded my space. I lowered my chin, pretending to ignore him while doing my best to sneak a closer look at what he was reading.
“Are you reading over my shoulder?” he asked without looking at me.
“Hmm, more like over your arm,” I mused, while noting the specifics of our sitting arrangement. Thesitting arrangementhe’d forced me into and therefore shouldn’t complain about.
A sigh hissed from his lips while he dramatically opened the top flap of his book bag, shoved his book back inside, and sprang to his feet.
An undiagnosed urgency budded in my chest, and I jumped up. “What’s going on?”
“I just . . .whatever.” He had this way of staring at me while seeming to ignore me at the same time.
“Okay, then. Nice chat.” I nodded him away.
“That’s what I thought.” His eyes raked over me before heading back across the street.
I was alone again.Good.That was what I had wanted.
I blew out a hard breath when something caught my eye. A notebook was lying in the dirt next to where the new boy had been sitting. I quickly reasoned it must have fallen out of his backpack when he had abruptly stormed off. I scooped it up and was about to call after him, when his silhouette disappeared into Bertha’s house. My ancient neighbor, who lived alone and never had company. She wasn’t exactly neighborly, and I had zero interest in running into her today.
My eyes returned to the notebook.
