BooksBarbecue
Back Counting Down with You
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Praise
  4. Booklist
  5. Dedication
  6. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  7. Part 1
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. Part 2
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. Part 3
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. 49
  59. 50
  60. 51
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. 54
  64. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Nandini nods, grinning at my exasperated expression. She takes my other hand in hers, looping our pinkies together. “You can’t let the world decide your future for you. It’s your life, babe. If you want to go to prom, we should go to prom. You should put your happiness first every once in a while.”

“I’m just being realistic,” I say under my breath, but when they both squeeze my hands again, I return the gesture.

Nandini snorts. “Sure, Karina. We’ll go with that.”

“I am,” I say, my voice rising.

Cora hums, arching a perfect brow. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t you both have homework to catch up on?”

“Oh shit,” Cora says, suddenly flipping through her binder. “Did either of you understand the Italian homework? Because I am so lost. What does question three even mean?”

I look on as Nandini explains, but I can’t help but reflect on our conversation. My parents aren’t here now, so I have more freedom than before, but that doesn’t mean I can do whatever I want. This will last for only so long.

Twenty-seven days until they return and my gilded cage slams shut again.

3

T-MINUS 27 DAYS

We part ways for our first class of the day. I sit in the back of the room and tune out my teacher, doodling aimlessly in my journal. I’m not an artist, but sometimes poetry runs rampant in my thoughts, so whenever I have a free moment, I write it down.

I’m drowning in a pool of moonlight

my lungs are full of stars

When the bell rings, I pack my stuff and make my way to my locker through the overcrowded hallways.

My locker is a visual representation of my brain. Pictures of Nandini, Cora, and me are littered across every surface. There are pictures of TV characters and fanart of my favorite book scenes. Random things I need to remember are scribbled on a whiteboard attached to the inside of my locker door. Hung at the back is a replica of Desdemona’s strawberry handkerchief from Othello, and pinned to the bottom of the material are a few of my poems.

I put away my textbook and head to my next—and favorite—class, English. It’s a dearly needed breather after AP Physics. God forbid my parents ever realize how much I’m struggling in that class.

I slip into my English classroom and sit in the back corner, next to the window. Cora, Nandini, and I claimed this corner in the beginning of the year, since it’s easier to text discreetly here.

“The wildest thing happened during gym,” Nandini says as she drops into the seat beside me. Our teacher, Miss Cannon, is scrawling the opening activity onto the whiteboard, hardly paying attention to us. “I’ll tell you and Cora during lunch.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Can’t wait.”