BooksBarbecue
Back Undone Save as PDF
Chapters (34)
  1. Cover
  2. undone
  3. Dedication
  4. one
  5. two
  6. three
  7. four
  8. five
  9. six
  10. seven
  11. eight
  12. nine
  13. ten
  14. eleven
  15. twelve
  16. thirteen
  17. fourteen
  18. fifteen
  19. sixteen
  20. seventeen
  21. eighteen
  22. nineteen
  23. twenty
  24. twenty-one
  25. twenty-two
  26. twenty-three
  27. twenty-four
  28. twenty-five
  29. twenty-six
  30. twenty-seven
  31. twenty-eight
  32. twenty-nine
  33. thirty
  34. Acknowledgments

She stood as he handed the guitar to her. As she took it, she curled against him like a cat, and I heard her whisper, “Best two words a boy could say to me.”

Anthony gave a low laugh and traded places with her. As he sat down next to me on the log, his elbow bumped my side and my heart jumped. I wasn’t usually nervous around guys I liked. Older guys were different, easier. I had something they wanted but they knew they shouldn’t have. It gave me power. Confidence. But with Anthony sitting right next to me, my nerves were snapping like the split wood in the fire.

I kept my eyes on Kori. She slipped into the guitar strap as if it were a shirt. As she started strumming, I let my eyes wander, finding faces that were on the one hand familiar and on the other complete strangers. They were people Kori felt comfortable with, even the ones who clearly wished she weren’t there. But that was Kori. She could transcend the whole stupid high school hierarchy.

She started singing. Her voice, even more throaty and dark from all the screaming before, filled the empty places inside of me. I shivered.

“Cold?” Anthony asked.

Our eyes met and mine fled quickly. Cold was the last thing I felt sitting next to him. In fact, I felt as hot as the fire dancing in front of us. I wanted to say something, anything … but my mouth felt like it was filled with drying glue, and all I could do was lamely shake my head.

Wait until it is night before saying that it has been a fine day.
—French proverb

seven

Only those who couldn’t drive or get a ride off campus for lunch had to endure the state-mandated “crap-trition.” So the cafeteria was a JV jungle complete with a survival-of-the-fittest social hierarchy.

There were five round tables, set up just like dots on a die— one in the center and four surrounding. And boxing those were several rectangular tables set along the walls. Naturally the BBs and PPs (officially Blond and Beautifuls and Perfect and Populars, in case you were curious) have claimed the round tables, like they’re freaking knights and ladies. There is the one for the JV cheerleaders, the one for the JV jocks, the one for the JV jock supporters (and I mean that literally and figuratively), the one for the JV Hauties, aka social fashionistas, and ours. That’s right, ours. The four defectors: Lexi from the brainiacs, Cole from the fashionistas, Kori from the cheerleaders, and me from the computer geeks, at the big eight-person, primo, round-real-estate table.