BooksBarbecue
Back Big Boned Save as PDF
Chapters (67)
  1. Big Boned
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. One Month Later
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. Copyright
  63. About the Publisher
  64. Backad 1
  65. Backad 2
  66. Backad 3
  67. Backad 4

“It feels like I did. The kiss messed it all up.” He was looking at me in a way that made me want to kiss him all over again. I wanted to tell him that I had actually messed it up—well, all those bullies in my head had.

“No, you didn’t mess it up,” I said again.

“You sure?”

I forced a smile at him. It was so damn hard. “No. You didn’t.”

He exhaled an audible breath, as if he’d been holding it. “Great! So we can move past this and be friends again? I really, really like our friendship. I’ve never met anyone like you, and anyone I can talk to like I talk to you, and I would hate to lose that. Seriously.”

“It’s already been moved past. It’s forgotten.” Crap. That wasn’t really what I wanted to say. What I really wanted to say was, Let’s not move on. Let’s never move on from that moment, ever. Let’s kiss again. And let’s not stop once we start.

“Great! Friends!” His face lit up and it was like a hot dagger in my gut.

I didn’t want to be friends. And how could we? How could we go back to the way things were, now that we’d kissed? We carried on walking together, and even though he looked a lot happier and lighter, I was not.

“Are you going to the vigil tonight?” he asked.

“What vigil?”

“Haven’t you heard about it? For Natasha. Tonight at seven they’re holding a candlelight vigil for her, and also to stop the repainting of the wall.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

I turned and started walking again. “I don’t know,” I said quickly. “I might have to look after Zac.”

“Me neither, I have this water polo dinner thing.” We walked in silence to the end of the corridor and then Jake looked at his phone.

“Free period almost over.”

“Sure. Cool.”

“Friends still?” he asked. “I’m just checking again.”

“Friends.” I agreed, even though, right now, friends felt like the ultimate F word.

“Great, because you’re a good friend, Lori.”

Things I Like about Myself by Lori Palmer

I’m a good sister.

I’m a real artist (despite what Blackwell says!).

I, Lori Palmer, am officially good with parents!

I have a voice. There is power in my art.

I am brave!

I am a great kisser!

I’m a good friend (even if I don’t really want to be just a friend).

43

It looked like half of Cape Town had turned up. Press and media trucks lined the small street and people holding posters walked in unison up the road chanting, “Find Me. Find Me.”