“You okay?” he asks.
I’m sure he can see the panic rolling off me like waves.
I shake my head and continue down the driveway. He jumps off the front steps and falls in line beside me.
“I didn’t know anyone was out here,” I say, hoping my voice sounds even and steady.
“It felt like I was intruding. I mean, I’m not even sure what’s going on in there, but it seems like some family thing.”
The two blocks of sidewalk between Nonna’s house and mine feel more like a mile right now. I’m an inch from freaking all the way out and I really don’t want to do that in front of Leo.
“Why’d you leave? It seems like there was probably another hour or so to go,” Leo says, chuckling.
“Not feeling so good,” I say. With my arms wrapped tightly around my waist, it’s easy enough to believe.
“Oh,” he says. “Do you need anything?”
I shake my head. “No. Just couldn’t take the crowd.”
He nods like he totally understands. Which I guess he does since he was hiding out on the front porch.
We stop in front of my house. “Thanks for walking me home,” I say. It’s been years since I’ve seen him and I should make some effort to ask how he’s been or what he’s been up to, but my brain has that e-mail scrolling on repeat.
“Sure,” he says, then points back to Nonna’s house. “I’ll just head back now.”
It’s awkward. For both of us.
I turn and walk up the front path to my house.
Leo calls out, “Hope you feel better,” just as I’m opening my front door.
I give him a small smile and wave before disappearing inside.
My phone is buzzing with texts from Charlie, Sophie, and Wes in our group chat. I message backI’m fine just need a minuteto stop them from following me here.
After I race up the stairs to my room, it only takes a few seconds to grab the blank copy of the form I gave my golf instructor at the beginning of the semester. There are boxes that Coach was supposed to check stating that either wedidordid notcomplete the required hours of instruction. I clearly remember him stating at the beginning of the semester that he would turn in the forms to the school directly so that the students couldn’t alter them in any way.
Pulling my phone back out, I shoot a reply to Mr. Spencer.
To: Dwayne Spencer
From: Olivia Perkins
Subject: Re: Off-campus PE form
Mr. Spencer,
There must be some mistake. I finished the class. Coach Cantu told us at the beginning of the semester that he turns the forms in directly to you. There shouldn’t be any reason why you don’t have mine.
I will contact Coach Cantu to find out what happened. In a worst-case scenario—I really don’t think this is possible but I’m trying not to freak out—what happens if he won’t sign it for some insane reason? Would this really stop me from graduating?
Sincerely,
Olivia Perkins
I refresh my e-mail over and over. And over. It’s fifteen minutes before I get his reply.
To: Oliva Perkins
