Alone by Francine Pascal Page B

somehow.”
    Without a word, Ed reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulled out sixty cents, and dropped the coins in. The numbers leapt, and Tatiana’s face burned.
    â€œIt looks okay now,” he said. “Were you trying to unload your rubles again?”
    Tatiana gave a shrill laugh, a ridiculous sound that bubbled out of her without her consent . “Ha ha! Yes, perhaps I was using rubles,” she said, hitting the Ho Hos button for want of anything better to do. She turned to Ed.
    â€œSo, how are you?” she asked. “I have not spoken to you in a while.”
    â€œI’m okay.” Aha. Was that what she thought it was? A look of embarrassment? Was he looking at the floor because he knew he’d screwed up? He had to apologize now. She had him! He totally had to. . .
    â€œWell, see you later,” he said, replacing his crutches under his arms and hitching away from her without another word.
    Oh my God, Tatiana thought. He hates me. I must be the worst kisser in the world!
    No. He is the biggest jerk in the world!
    Either way, she was the definitely most embarrassed person in the world, standing in a high school hallway with a handful of Ho Hos and a heart full of hurt.
    This place sucked.

E D

    Yes. All right. I admit it. That was bad. Horrible, in fact. Maybe the primo worst move of my life. I’d kick myself if I could figure out how. Obviously I’m avoiding Tatiana, and I’m doing it with all the smoothness of George Constanza. But I have a lot on my mind.
    First, my physical therapist informs me that, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, I’ve had the power to get what I’ve wanted all along—I just didn’t know how to use it. Heartwarming words. Then I try out her theory and literally fall flat on my face. So I pour my heart out to my old friend Heather, who, admittedly, was a poor choice of confidante since she’s obviously got some completely weird emotional trauma of her own going on that makes her look like half a Heather. And so she goes all Mariah Carey on me.
    Then I stop by the main office right before history class and find out Gaia’s not in school today. Not that I care. Not that Gaia matters to me at all. But that girl has a way of attracting danger. I’m just a little concerned.
    And this whole time I’m supposed to be concentrating on Ed. Do you see why I don’t exactly have the time or energy to be calling some chick I smooched?
    Oh God. Did I just say that? I didn’t mean it. Tatiana is an absolutely great girl, not some chick, and I smooched her because I meant it. And the not-so-unspoken rule of being a half-decent guy is, even if you didn’t mean it, you call a girl after you stick your tongue down her throat. I mean, if she was willing to risk mono for you, you pretty much owe her that, right? If you’re not interested, you let her know by saying you’ll call again. She’ll usually get the picture.
    But you’ve got to make the first call.
    And what kind of idiot wouldn’t be interested in Tatiana? She’s absolutely perfect. Her body is smokin’—and her features are delicate, like a china doll’s. And sweet. And friendly. No obnoxious comments bursting out of her mouth. No need to be on your guard with her. Tatiana. Of course I’m interested.
    It’s just with all the bizarro events of the last week, I need a little “Ed time” right now.
    I am going to call her eventually. I’ll owe her big time—I might have to treat her to something schmantzy, like a concert or something, to make it up to her. I’ll just explain to her that I needed to figure some things out.
    If I ever figure things out.

L O K I

    When things come together this perfectly, it’s very difficult not to congratulate myself. My own genius astounds even me.
    I’ve managed to twist the brilliant Gaia into a knot of confusion. I have her believing every word I say. She is