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“
So you spend a lot of time with him…” Mom tilts her head toward me as though we’re about to share a secret.

I roll my eyes. “Seriously, Mom.”

Anna smirks. “You two spend a lot of time together. In a car. You just never know.”

“
Shut up, Anna!” I shout wishing I could kick her without Mom noticing.

Mom grips the side of her head and shuts her eyes. “Girls! Please stop arguing. I have enough to deal with right now.” She leaves the kitchen to change out of her scrubs.

I wait until she’s out of earshot. “Good job, Annabelle.” I hiss, using her full name since she hates it. “Now you upset her.”

“
Me? Maybe she wouldn’t be upset if you weren’t going around kissing boys.”

“
I’m not going around kissing boys. It was one boy.
One
.”

“
Sure it was. Why would I believe you? You’re the one who made Dad go away.”

Everything within me protests, but it’s true. Dad left because of me. But it doesn’t mean I have to like what she says. “Then why didn’t you tell her that I kissed Evan?”

“
I may be eleven, but I’m not stupid. I can use this to my advantage.”

I put my hand on my hip. “Maybe I’ll just go tell Mom right now.”

“
You would have told her already if you wanted her to know.” Anna smiles. “So why
don’t
you want to tell her?”

I only wish I knew.

Chapter Ten

After dinner, I escape to my room and throw myself on the bed. Why
don’t
I want to tell Mom about Evan? Mom will probably like him. But for now, until I know where this is going, I want to keep it to myself. If it should all crash and burn, I can suffer through it alone.

But it’s more than that. Evan has lit a spark. Right now it’s a tiny flame, but I feel it growing, warming me from the inside out. I feel alive again. It fills me with a buoyancy that I’m still trying to adjust to. I don’t want do it under the scrutiny of my mother.

Doing it under the scrutiny of the entire school is hard enough.

I bury my face in my pillow. I can’t ignore that Evan never acknowledged my existence until a week ago and now… it doesn’t make sense.

My cell phone rings, almost as if he knows I’m thinking about him. I stare at his name on caller ID, afraid to answer and find out he’s changed his mind.

There’s only one way to know. “Hi.”

“
Hi.” His voice sounds warm and buttery. “What are you doing?”

Obsessing over you. “Getting ready to start homework. That’s all I do any more. Homework.”

He laughs. “That’s what happens when you don’t do it. It sneaks up on you. Want me to come over and help?” He’s teasing, but I still hear the hopeful tone.

“
Tempting, but somehow I don’t think I’ll get as much studying done.” I lie back on my bed and gather my courage. “Evan, why don’t you play football any more?”

He pauses. “I pulled a hamstring.”

“
But shouldn’t you still be going to practices and watching from the sidelines? Wearing your jersey on Fridays?”

“
Why the sudden interest? I thought you weren’t into football?”

“
I’m not. It’s just that…”

“
Can I pick you up and take you to school tomorrow?”

His question catches me off guard. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“
If I can’t come over and help you with homework then at least let me drive you to school. I want to spend every minute with you that I can.”

“
Why?”

He groans in frustration. “Jules, this again? You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

I stare at the ceiling, now blurry through my tears. “I used to be that person. Not any more.”

“
No, you still are. You just have to find her again.”

“
How do you know that Evan? You didn’t even know me before.”

He clears his throat. “You have no idea how sorry I am about that. My only excuse is that I was an idiot. There’s no way I can change that, but I’m begging you to trust me when I say I know who you are. If it’s easier, just think of me as a completely different person than last week.”

I want to trust him, but it’s too soon and there are too many questions. “I’ve got to go.”

“
Okay.” He sounds hurt. “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

I hear Mom calling my name. I don’t want her to walk in and find me on the phone with him. I’ll only have to answer more questions. “Sure.”

“
Great.”

I hear her stop outside my door. “I have to go.”

“
I’ll see you tomorrow at 7:15.”

I hang up as the door swings open. I jam the phone under my notebook and look up to see Mom standing on the threshold.

“
Thanks for cooking dinner,” she says with a smile.

I grimace. It used to be expected of me. “It was nothing. It’s time I start doing my old chores again.”

Tears fill her eyes. “Thanks,” she squeaks before shutting the door.

Great, now I made her cry.

I spend the rest of the night wallowing in guilt, but manage to get through my current homework assignments as well as several chemistry and trig assignments. I keep replaying the last week in my head. I can’t ignore the conversation I overheard in Chemistry. What if Evan’s sudden interest in me has something to do with his disappearance? I dismiss the thought as paranoia. This is real life not some cheesy movie. Still, the worry burrows deep, an insatiable itch.

After I slip under the covers and start to doze, my phone vibrates with a text.

Sweet dreams
.

The warm feeling is back, clouding all my dark thoughts. I drift off to sleep, not quite trusting my budding happiness.

I dream of Monica, only her hair is shorter and darker. We sit at a table with Evan and a dark haired boy I don’t recognize. Our heads are bent over tablets that remind me of an iPad. The boy glances up and our gaze locks. The sadness lurking in his bright green eyes seeps into my marrow. His mouth lifts into a small smile before he breaks contact. As I look down, I see Monica studying the two of us. Her hatred is unmistakable.

In the morning, I wake up earlier than usual to put on makeup after my shower. Instead of my usual jeans, I put on a tan sweater with a suede skirt and heeled boots, then stand in front of the full-length mirror hanging on my closet door.

It looks like
me
, not the shell I’ve become.

The clock reads 7:10. At the last moment, I grab my bracelet and put it on as I go out to face my mother.

Let the questions commence.

Mom sits at the kitchen table in front of her laptop, her steaming coffee next to her. She raises her gaze as I grab my Pop Tart breakfast. “You look very pretty,” she murmurs, lifting the cup to her mouth.

“
Thank you.”

“
Do you have tutoring today?” She keeps her focus on the computer screen.

“
Yes, I have tutoring
every
day except for Friday.” Irritation makes my words bristly. “Evan doesn’t tutor me every day, just so you know. I have another tutor, too. Maryann. A girl.”
Brilliant, Julia
.

Mom chuckles. “Sorry. I was just curious. I also wanted to remind you that you have an appointment with Dr. Weaver tomorrow after school. Unfortunately, I can’t get off work.” She looks up and uses her I-mean-business voice. “I think it’s time you start driving again.”

I take a step back, bumping into the counter. “No.”

“
Julia, you have to go to this appointment and I can’t get off work. With your father gone…”

The mention of my father screws my conviction deeper. “Okay. I’ll figure it out.”

“
The longer you wait to drive, the harder it’s going to be.”

“
I know.” I put on my coat and pick up my backpack, heading for the door. “I’ve got to go.”

“
I love you, Julia.” Mom calls after me. I hear the wistfulness in her voice, wishing things were the way they used to be.

I stop and take a deep breath but can’t bring myself to face her. Things will never be the way they used to be. “I know, Mom. I love you too.”

I walk out the front door and immediately wish I’d brought an umbrella. A fine mist falls, damp and cool enough to make me uncomfortable, but not heavy enough to soak through my coat. I’ve left a few minutes early, but instead of waiting on the porch, I start down the sidewalk. It’s better this way. There’ll be too many questions if Evan picks me up in front of the house.

He’s either running early or eager to see me. I’ve only begun walking when his dark blue car turns onto my street and pulls up to the curb next to me. The passenger door swings open and his head comes into view. “What are you doing? Why are you walking?”

“
I was ready early,” I say as I climb in. “I needed to get out of the house.”

“
Bad morning?”

I turn to him and smile, amazed he’s really here picking me up. “No, not any more.”

His face lights up. “You’re beautiful.” He takes my hand and strokes the back of it with his thumb.

The hair on my arms stands on end and my stomach flutters. “Shouldn’t we go to school now?”

He cups my face with his free hand. “No, not yet. Let me look at you first. I haven’t seen you since yesterday.” The way he gazes at my face, I’m glad I put the effort into applying makeup.

He’s so close all I can see are his eyes, clear blue with a few black specks scattered here and there. His thumb, rough and calloused, rubs across my lower lip.

The air in my lungs grows stale. I release my breath in a whoosh then cast a glance over my shoulder to see if Mom’s watching. The front window looks clear. “I think we should go or we’ll be late.”

“
Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He pulls away from the curb still holding my hand. “What’s your first class?”

I look at him from the corner of my eye.
How much do I really know about this boy?
It’s odd that he’s so interested in me yet we don’t even know each other’s schedule.

“
What’s your favorite color?” I ask.

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “What does that have to do with your first class?”

“
Nothing, it’s just we hardly know anything about each other. How can you be so sure you like me when you hardly know me?”

He looks alarmed. His grip on my hand tightens as though he thinks I’ll jump from the car. I give an involuntary jerk and his face softens and he loosens his hold. “My favorite color is blue. I like hamburgers but not pickles—can’t stand them. Running helps me relax.”

“
What’s your favorite TV show?”

The surprise is back for a millisecond before he smiles. “I don’t watch TV. I read.”

“
Okay, favorite book?”

“
Really, Julia?”

“
Yes. Favorite book?”

“
Captured
by Steven Morris. Happy now?” He laughs but his thumb taps the steering wheel in a rapid tempo. “So what’s your first class?”

“
Spanish. What about you?”

“
Calculus.”

“
Sounds fun.”

He grunts. “It’s boring.”

“
Because it’s hard?”

“
No, because it’s too easy. They should have learned this stuff by now.”

I give him a curious look. “What do you mean
they?
”

His eyes widen and he swallows, scratching his forehead. “Did I say
they?
I guess it’s because I pick it up so fast I don’t feel part of the class.” He flashes me a smile as he pulls into the school parking lot.

My stomach cramps with anxiety.

“
You okay?” he asks with a worried look. “You turned kind of pale.”

“
I’m just nervous.”

Evan parks and leans close, his lips gently brushing mine. “You’re a hundred times better than anyone in this school. And if you want, we’ll leave the campus for tutoring.”

I nod, my forehead rubbing against his. Somewhere in the recesses of my memories this feels familiar, like I’ve done this before. The back of my head tingles.

He pulls away. I’m colder and lonelier and it’s like a piece of me is missing. I don’t understand this feeling or the fact that it happens every time he stops touching me.

We walk into school, Evan’s arm around my waist. Students in the halls stare and whisper as we pass. Evan tenses as we stop at my locker.

“
Enough!” he yells.

The murmurs in the hall quiet and everyone freezes.

“
What are you all staring at? I’ll go out with whoever I want. Anyone who has a problem with it better take it up with me, not Julia.” Evan’s voice bounces off the metal lockers and reverberates down the halls. “Now get going!”

They scurry away, casting their gaze to the floor as they pass but resume their gossiping from several feet away.

I rest my hand on his arm. “You didn’t have to do that, Evan.”

His eyes dart around, looking for someone to defy him. “I’m sick of the way they’re acting. What’s the problem, anyway?”

I shut my locker door. “The problem is that you’re one of the most popular people in school, and you’ve just announced that you’re dating the school pariah. It just isn’t done.”

He curls his lip. “That’s ridiculous.”

“
Well, that’s how it is and you know it.”

“
It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

I laugh, but it’s shallow from my nervousness. “I think you made that pretty clear.” I can’t help but think that over a week ago he would’ve been one of the people staring in amazement.

We stop in front of the Spanish classroom and I smile tightly. “See you before English Lit.”

Before he has a chance to say anything, I turn on my heels and enter the classroom. I open my notebook to the page I drew on yesterday so I can work on the mystery of my hidden messages.

Senorita Gomez begins to lecture about verb conjugation. I take notes but also continue drawing, watching as the lines form a V and an A. When the bell rings, I’m sure my hand is drawing the letters to Evan’s name.

The morning flies by, leaving little time to think of anything else. As I tromp down the stairs to English Lit, I realize this is when Sarah stands outside the classroom, usually clinging on Evan like a tomato plant. My stomach twists into a ball at the thought of facing her.

Evan waits by my locker, leaning his shoulder against it. He smiles as I walk toward him and the fuzziness in my head unfurls the lead weight in my gut, if only a bit.

The way he’s watching me, added to my imminent encounter with Sarah, makes me nervous. I feel a desperate need to say something, anything to get my mind off it. “Hey, I’ve been looking at my drawings, watching as I draw them. I think I’m writing your name.
”
After the words spill out, I’m horrified. Out of the vast number of topics in the universe, this is the one I pick. It’s nearly as bad as saying I’ve been writing a zillion variations of Mrs. Julia Whittaker.

But he looks excited at the news. “Really?”

“
Yeah, I want to look at my old ones and see if I find anything else besides the Celtic love knots.

“
We can look at it together at lunch.”

“
Did you find your necklace?”

A guilty look flashes over his eyes. “No, I didn’t.” He takes my hand and his warmth spreads to my cold fingers. I’m self-conscious standing so close to him, especially with the awkward glances that follow us. But word of Evan’s outburst has infiltrated the James Monroe communication network already. No one outwardly gawks like this morning.