he trapped me with his arm. His face was close, and when he spoke I felt his breath on my cheek. “This isn’t over.”
He released the lock and I stumbled getting out of the car into the pouring rain. I flung my bag over my shoulder and flipped my hood up as I ran around the back of the car and up the front steps of my house to safety. I heard his engine flare as he pulled away from the curb, but I never looked back.
I AVOIDED MY ROOM and quiet corners all afternoon and evening. My mother and I prepared dinner together. It was one of those simple things that made her happy. My father and I watched a program about Hitler on the History Channel, and I feigned interest as I watched armies of men raise an arm in honor of a madman. Dad loved the phenomenon of mass behavior and how one man could convince millions that his bizarre attitudes were right. When it was over he patted my head, grabbed the latest edition of This Old House and went to bed. It was nice. And normal. Completely and utterly normal. And a mockery of what was really going on in my life.
Evan was around. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him. My rain-soaked afternoon encounter with Connor left me raw and suspicious. Part of me knew Connor wasn’t lying. Why would he? The other part was terrified of the possible truths he told.
“Jane, you should head to bed,” my mother called from the living room, where she was immersed in a book.
“I know, I am,” I said, as I wandered around the kitchen searching for anything to delay going upstairs.
I passed by the living room archway. “Are you okay?” she asked, lowering her book and studying me closely.
Instinctively, I plastered a smile on my face. “I’m fine. Maybe a little tired. Exams are next week, you know.”
Mom swung her legs up and gestured to the end of the couch. “Come sit with me?”
Grateful for the distraction, I moved to join her. Once I settled in the cushions she asked again, “Are you sure everything’s okay? School? Friends?” I shrugged at her suggestions but shook my head, until she probed further. “A boy?” I sucked my breath in a little. The corner of her eyes crinkled. “Tell me about him.”
Pushing my back into the cushion, I wondered how I could even explain Connor or my not-relationship with him. “It’s not like that, I promise.”
“Like what?” she asked, her voice sounding sincere.
“It’s just...there is a boy at school. He’s in some of my classes and we’ve spoken a couple of times. But I don’t think he likes me...in fact, I’m more than sure he doesn’t.” I rambled around the truth.
“I’m not sure what any of that means, sweetie.”
I snorted. “I know. I’m not sure, either. It’s just stupid teenager stuff. Ignore me, please!”
“Oh, honey, it’s not stupid. But boys can be hard to read, for sure. They act tough, but usually they’re scared out of their minds when it comes to the opposite sex.”
I wish I could say I didn’t blush when my mom casually said the word ‘sex,’ but I did. A warm blush spread cross my cheeks and up my ears. Out of discomfort I said, “Connor is definitely hard to read.”
“Connor?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, his name is Connor.”
“Is he cute?”
As if it was that easy. Connor was definitely cute, better than cute, gorgeous even. Especially after days like today when I was mere inches from his face, his beauty was undeniable. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
Attempting to stifle a yawn, I covered my mouth with my hand and my mother eyed me warily.
“Okay, honey, I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”
“Okay.” I gave her a quick hug.
“See you in the morning.” I stretched and adjusted my shirt. Little things that took up seconds of time. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you—Aunt Jeannie told me about her escape from small town life and to the big cities of California.”
Mom looked unsurprised and chuckled. “I missed her when she left, but she
He released the lock and I stumbled getting out of the car into the pouring rain. I flung my bag over my shoulder and flipped my hood up as I ran around the back of the car and up the front steps of my house to safety. I heard his engine flare as he pulled away from the curb, but I never looked back.
I AVOIDED MY ROOM and quiet corners all afternoon and evening. My mother and I prepared dinner together. It was one of those simple things that made her happy. My father and I watched a program about Hitler on the History Channel, and I feigned interest as I watched armies of men raise an arm in honor of a madman. Dad loved the phenomenon of mass behavior and how one man could convince millions that his bizarre attitudes were right. When it was over he patted my head, grabbed the latest edition of This Old House and went to bed. It was nice. And normal. Completely and utterly normal. And a mockery of what was really going on in my life.
Evan was around. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him. My rain-soaked afternoon encounter with Connor left me raw and suspicious. Part of me knew Connor wasn’t lying. Why would he? The other part was terrified of the possible truths he told.
“Jane, you should head to bed,” my mother called from the living room, where she was immersed in a book.
“I know, I am,” I said, as I wandered around the kitchen searching for anything to delay going upstairs.
I passed by the living room archway. “Are you okay?” she asked, lowering her book and studying me closely.
Instinctively, I plastered a smile on my face. “I’m fine. Maybe a little tired. Exams are next week, you know.”
Mom swung her legs up and gestured to the end of the couch. “Come sit with me?”
Grateful for the distraction, I moved to join her. Once I settled in the cushions she asked again, “Are you sure everything’s okay? School? Friends?” I shrugged at her suggestions but shook my head, until she probed further. “A boy?” I sucked my breath in a little. The corner of her eyes crinkled. “Tell me about him.”
Pushing my back into the cushion, I wondered how I could even explain Connor or my not-relationship with him. “It’s not like that, I promise.”
“Like what?” she asked, her voice sounding sincere.
“It’s just...there is a boy at school. He’s in some of my classes and we’ve spoken a couple of times. But I don’t think he likes me...in fact, I’m more than sure he doesn’t.” I rambled around the truth.
“I’m not sure what any of that means, sweetie.”
I snorted. “I know. I’m not sure, either. It’s just stupid teenager stuff. Ignore me, please!”
“Oh, honey, it’s not stupid. But boys can be hard to read, for sure. They act tough, but usually they’re scared out of their minds when it comes to the opposite sex.”
I wish I could say I didn’t blush when my mom casually said the word ‘sex,’ but I did. A warm blush spread cross my cheeks and up my ears. Out of discomfort I said, “Connor is definitely hard to read.”
“Connor?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, his name is Connor.”
“Is he cute?”
As if it was that easy. Connor was definitely cute, better than cute, gorgeous even. Especially after days like today when I was mere inches from his face, his beauty was undeniable. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
Attempting to stifle a yawn, I covered my mouth with my hand and my mother eyed me warily.
“Okay, honey, I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”
“Okay.” I gave her a quick hug.
“See you in the morning.” I stretched and adjusted my shirt. Little things that took up seconds of time. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you—Aunt Jeannie told me about her escape from small town life and to the big cities of California.”
Mom looked unsurprised and chuckled. “I missed her when she left, but she
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