“Right.” He’s already on his feet, slinging his headphones around his neck before packing his textbook in his backpack. “Then let’s start meeting every day after school.”
Every. Day?!
“Okay,” I mutter, because what else can I do but agree to this torture? I have to pass this class.
“Great.” He barely glances at me as he strides toward the door. “Bye.”
What’s his deal? It’s like he’s allergic to pleasantry and kindness. Do I smell or something? I sniff my armpits. Nope, I’m as sweet as a peach. Then what is it? This weird disguise?
Ugh—I guess it doesn’t matter now. He’s finally gone, which means I can let out the tight breath that’s wound around my lungs. Sweet air! Sweet relief!
That was pure emotional agony, and now I’m going to have to endure it every single day. I could cry. Why would I agree?
Oh, right. Because I can’t fail this class. If I do, Dad will make sure I never have a social life ever again, which means I’ll never see Vicky or Patrick or do fun things like karaoke or meet a boy who might fall for me.
On the one hand, getting grounded from social activities means I won’t run into Subwayboy Oliver when I’m coming and going from my building. But on the other hand, I can’t exactly go on romanticizing my life if I’m stuck in my room. And isn’t that the whole idea? I need to put myself out there more. To embrace romance and whimsy! To be vulnerable and try new things!
That’s settled, then. He lives across from me, so I’m going to have to risk running into him, but I’ll keep our interactions strictly limited to the library, while wearing my disguise.
I can’t confront him about the subway. Maybe that makes me a chicken, but I don’t want to rehash that embarrassing moment ever again. It’s bad enough Tammy brought it up in class.
So it’s settled. Oliver Yang will never,everknow I was Subwaygirl.
TEN
Patrick
“Slow down.” I smash my phone to my ear while covering my other one with my hand to drown out the street noise. “You didwhatwith the scarf?”
“I wrapped it around my face, of course, but then he goes and freaking pulls it down!”
Sara’s been my best friend since we started at Eagle Gate four years ago, so I’m used to her blustery panic. I like that I’m the first person she calls or texts when she needs to vent. It makes me feel important. Plus, she’s given me access to her blog, where she documents her encounters in this funny, relatable way. Her writing makes me laugh out loud sometimes, and she knows there’s nothing I love more than a good laugh. I joke around a lot and can be super-unserious, but Sara is someone I trust with my own problems too. It’s why we’re so close.
Sara doesn’t live that far from me, so I started walking to her building as soon as I heard the stress in her tone.
The truth is, I missed her at karaoke earlier. She always picks the most random songs—I honestly never know what to expect—and that’s half the fun. Tammy’s cool, but she chooses these long power ballads that put me to sleep. Sara’s good at getting Tammy to pick something more upbeat, so this tutoring thing is already getting in the way.
I pause at a crosswalk, waiting for traffic to clear. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, Patrick! Iseriouslyalmost fainted!”
“That’s hilarious.” The intersection clears, and I dart across. “So you think he remembers you, then?”
“I guess not.” A crinkle, then a crunch. I’d bet a hundred bucks she’s eating cheese puffs, but I doubt she’d take me up onanotherbet. “He calls me a weirdo, and, sure, I’m bad at calculus, but at least I’m not stupid enough to not recognize someone I’ve seen before.”
I sidestep a puddle. “Feisty, Sara Lin.”
“Agh, you’re right. I shouldn’t say that about him. It’s mean.” She sighs. “Gah! I still can’t believe I asked if I could kiss him. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Calm down.” I’ve reached the final intersection. The crossing signal ushers me forward, so I sprint across the street and slide through her building’s double doors. Fragrant lemongrass hits my nostrils when I step into the lobby, a scent I’ve come to associate with her over time. I’ve been here a lot. “I bet he doesn’t even remember that was you.”
“You think so?”
I take the stairs two at a time because I don’t want to risk losing service in the elevator. “Yeah, he would’ve said something by now, right?”
“I guess so.”
“Yeah, he would have. For sure.” I push open the stairwell door and saunter down her hall, pausing when I’m near her front door. “Hey, I’m kinda hungry. You hungry?”
