again.
“Quinn,” breathed Natalie. And while she might not be a fan of the Apathy Alliance, she did say his name with a certain amount of awe. “Quinn Riley.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be on the lookout for Quinn Riley.”
“Oh—” said Natalie, startled by something else over my shoulder.
And at the same moment, a teasing male voice spoke close to my ear.
“No need to be on the lookout,” the voice said. “Quinn Riley, at your service.”
I didn’t even have to turn around. I knew exactly whose gray-green eyes I’d see.
Sure enough, Quinn Riley and the Stairwell God were one and the same.
Eight
I did myself proud all over again, paralyzed brain and partially open mouth included. But this time I did manage to cough up some words. Well, one word. Here’s what I said:
“Thanks.”
Like he actually meant he was at my service, and like I was actually thanking him for it.
Then the bell rang, and Quinn Riley was gone, strolling away in what I soon learned was the signature gait of all Alliance members, though he did do it particularly well. The other kids parted before him like he was Moses and they were the Red Sea.
Left to my own devices, I probably would’ve sat there, staring at the door he’d walked through, until school shut down for the night. But Natalie was in my next class, too, and somehow she got me up and to the right classroom. At least, physically she did. My mind was in a different place entirely. I just kept replaying the same two scenes in my head on a continuous mental loop: first, Quinn and me in the stairwell, andsecond, Quinn and me in the lunchroom. And with each new playback, I had to mentally kick myself all over again.
There I’d been, practically face-to-face with the perfect guy—and I’d blown it, not just once but twice. It was like seeing that perfect wave rolling in, the type of wave most surfers only dream about. But instead of owning it, I’d let it wipe me out completely.
So I continued to obsess all the way through Modern Western Civilizations, and then some more as I drifted through precalculus. And the strangest part was that I don’t usually obsess. I mean, nothing in Palo Alto had prepared me for such an immediate crush, much less for anybody like Quinn, but I’m mostly pretty good about picking myself up and moving on.
Either way, it wasn’t until precalculus was nearly over and the mental playback/kicking myself count had reached double digits that the obsessing screeched to a halt and I finally had an epiphany. Suddenly, it all became perfectly clear.
The problem was much bigger than my pathetic reaction to an almost total stranger—it was my reaction to everything that had happened in the last week that was so wrong.
The cold ugly truth was that I’d been letting circumstances and chance own me. Which was the opposite of what my dad had taught me, and what my mother had taught me, too, though in a non-surfing way.
Ever since Thad and Nora told me the news, I’d been allowing other people to make my decisions. And the whole time, allI’d been doing was feebly trying to explain that T.K. wasn’t dead and waiting for something to change, or someone to come to the rescue.
When what I should have been doing was taking my destiny into my own hands. There was absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t find my mother myself.
Last period was drama, but since it didn’t start until the following week I had the hour free. And for the first time in days I knew exactly what I should do.
The Prescott library was on the top floor, stretching across both of the buildings that housed the school. I bypassed the shelves of books and rows of study carrels and made for a bank of computers along one wall.
I hadn’t fully formulated a plan of attack, but I figured if I gathered as much information as I could about my mother’s trip, I was bound to come up with some ideas. And it didn’t take long to realize how little I knew about where she’d been going
“Quinn,” breathed Natalie. And while she might not be a fan of the Apathy Alliance, she did say his name with a certain amount of awe. “Quinn Riley.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be on the lookout for Quinn Riley.”
“Oh—” said Natalie, startled by something else over my shoulder.
And at the same moment, a teasing male voice spoke close to my ear.
“No need to be on the lookout,” the voice said. “Quinn Riley, at your service.”
I didn’t even have to turn around. I knew exactly whose gray-green eyes I’d see.
Sure enough, Quinn Riley and the Stairwell God were one and the same.
Eight
I did myself proud all over again, paralyzed brain and partially open mouth included. But this time I did manage to cough up some words. Well, one word. Here’s what I said:
“Thanks.”
Like he actually meant he was at my service, and like I was actually thanking him for it.
Then the bell rang, and Quinn Riley was gone, strolling away in what I soon learned was the signature gait of all Alliance members, though he did do it particularly well. The other kids parted before him like he was Moses and they were the Red Sea.
Left to my own devices, I probably would’ve sat there, staring at the door he’d walked through, until school shut down for the night. But Natalie was in my next class, too, and somehow she got me up and to the right classroom. At least, physically she did. My mind was in a different place entirely. I just kept replaying the same two scenes in my head on a continuous mental loop: first, Quinn and me in the stairwell, andsecond, Quinn and me in the lunchroom. And with each new playback, I had to mentally kick myself all over again.
There I’d been, practically face-to-face with the perfect guy—and I’d blown it, not just once but twice. It was like seeing that perfect wave rolling in, the type of wave most surfers only dream about. But instead of owning it, I’d let it wipe me out completely.
So I continued to obsess all the way through Modern Western Civilizations, and then some more as I drifted through precalculus. And the strangest part was that I don’t usually obsess. I mean, nothing in Palo Alto had prepared me for such an immediate crush, much less for anybody like Quinn, but I’m mostly pretty good about picking myself up and moving on.
Either way, it wasn’t until precalculus was nearly over and the mental playback/kicking myself count had reached double digits that the obsessing screeched to a halt and I finally had an epiphany. Suddenly, it all became perfectly clear.
The problem was much bigger than my pathetic reaction to an almost total stranger—it was my reaction to everything that had happened in the last week that was so wrong.
The cold ugly truth was that I’d been letting circumstances and chance own me. Which was the opposite of what my dad had taught me, and what my mother had taught me, too, though in a non-surfing way.
Ever since Thad and Nora told me the news, I’d been allowing other people to make my decisions. And the whole time, allI’d been doing was feebly trying to explain that T.K. wasn’t dead and waiting for something to change, or someone to come to the rescue.
When what I should have been doing was taking my destiny into my own hands. There was absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t find my mother myself.
Last period was drama, but since it didn’t start until the following week I had the hour free. And for the first time in days I knew exactly what I should do.
The Prescott library was on the top floor, stretching across both of the buildings that housed the school. I bypassed the shelves of books and rows of study carrels and made for a bank of computers along one wall.
I hadn’t fully formulated a plan of attack, but I figured if I gathered as much information as I could about my mother’s trip, I was bound to come up with some ideas. And it didn’t take long to realize how little I knew about where she’d been going
Similar Books
