My third class of the day is English, but we have a sub, and he’s sent us to the library to work on an essay our teacher assigned. It’s busywork under the guise of something more productive, and Dylan and I have no motivation to work on it, so I’m on Google Docs, typing up a chapter for my novel. He’s sitting, watching, his eyes flickering across the screen as I write. It makes me somewhat nervous, but I don’t say anything. I like the way he makes my stomach churn, and he knows it. We both know it.
I reach over to take a sip out of my hazelnut iced coffee before typing a few more words. It’s getting hot now in Savannah; it’s May, and I’m so ready for summer to begin, to finally be able to laugh at all the “freshies” now that I’ll be a sophomore. I’m wearing my signature high-waisted shorts, but because of dress code, I have to wear black tights underneath. I don’t mind much; I wear Converse over them and I look different. Besides, it’s too hot to wear jeans, and our school doesn’t allow anything above the knee, which I am convinced is the worse public school dress code in the nation. Especially in Georgia.
“So does Leah have like . . . superpowers?” Dylan interrupts me, and I laugh, shushing him. The librarian glares over at us, fully aware that we’re not doing work, or at least not the work we’re supposed to be doing.
“You’ll find out,” I say, smiling.
“But why else would she be here? And I mean she is Trisha’s sister, so maybe the possibility is bigger. Are these powers an inherited thing?”
I grin at the fact Dylan is so curious, but shake my head.
“No, they’re not,” I say. “They’re just random.”
Dylan nods, thoughtfully, then says, “Well I like the story so far.”
I grin, blushing. It means a lot coming from him, especially since this is my first novel ever, and because . . . Well it’s him giving me the compliment. I care about his opinion more than I’d care to admit.
“Thanks,” I say quietly, and he turns to his computer screen and opens a document in Word. He types out an MLA header, and then feels for my hand with his own.
We sit for the rest of class with our pinkies linked, reading over what I’ve written of my novel so far. Even when the bell rings, we walk off together towards the cafeteria with our fingers still linked. People stare at us as we pass by, and I know they’re wondering why we’re not dating yet, why we’re not holding hands, just linking fingers. Most of the freshmen know about us. We’ve liked each other since seventh grade now. But I guess you could say that we aren’t exactly following the traditional path. I don’t know if he’s nervous, or if I’m nervous, or if neither of us have the guts to take the next step, but I can’t imagine it happening any time soon.
When I reach the lunch room, Dylan blows me a kiss and walks off to his next class alone. I smile to myself and push open the doors to the lunch room, head held high.
YOU ARE READING
365 Cups of Coffee
Novela JuvenilWhen she moves to Granite Falls, New Hampshire, Aspen Laurent knows she is running away. After witnessing a mass murder at her high school just months prior, she is harboring not only a terribly vivid memory of the bloodshed, but a secret as well, o...
