Chapters (47)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- 2 Months Later
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Books by Kasie West
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
When we’d arrived at my place, he gave my brother’s truck a good long stare, very unlike the reaction he’d had the first time he’d seen it. Then he punched my shoulder, like we were pals, and I got out and walked away a little confused as to what now existed between us. I was still confused. That day he’d rescued me I wasn’t myself. I was emotional and vulnerable and wasn’t thinking straight. I shouldn’t have told him half the things I did.
So why did I keep getting this weird sensation in my hand, like I was missing an appendage or something? Like he’d held my hand every day for a year? It had been once. And I hadn’t talked to him since.
I stared at the truck on my lawn now as I waited for Amelia to pick me up for school. It was so unassuming. No one looking at it would think it could be the bane of my existence.
Amelia pulled up and waved. “Hey,” she said. “Why’d you want me to come early?”
“Can we run by this café about ten minutes out of our way?”
“There’s a coffee shop on the way to school if you need a fix. I thought you didn’t drink coffee. It messes with your swimming.”
“I don’t. I’m getting something for someone else.”
“Okay, Ms. Cryptic. Who?”
“Drive, we’ll talk.”
“So I’m confused,” Amelia said after I explained to her what I was doing and why I was doing it. We’d pulled into the parking lot of Norman’s, but she hadn’t let me get out of the car. “Do you like Jackson?”
“No, I’m just grateful he saved me the other day.” I had downplayed just how much, leaving out the tears and the drama.
“Did you end up talking to your parents about the award?”
“No. I shoved it under my bed and am waiting for the right time.”
She turned off the ignition, finally taking in the little shop in front of us. It was a tiny place with peeling paint and dirty windows. “Are we going to die here?”
I got out of the car. “We’ll be fine.”
After placing my order with the woman behind the counter, I picked up a Sharpie she had in a jar next to the register. “Can I borrow this?”
“Sure, honey.” She filled a cup with the amber liquid, put a lid on, and handed it to me. “You know we’re the only place around here that carries cider outside of the Christmas season.”
“Believe me, I know.” On the side of the cup, with the blue Sharpie, I wrote, Now we’re even.