BooksBarbecue
Back Whirlwind
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

She’s waiting for my story, and she has every right to hear it. I suck in a big breath, but I can’t figure out what to say or where to begin. So I exhale silently.

P.J. has always understood me better than anyone. She comes to my rescue, speaking first, bringing us back to the unlikely place where it all started. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?” she asks softly.

“Of course. In the old gym,” I reply, unsure where she’s going but very content to follow. “Under the bleachers. On a Tuesday. I’ll never forget it.”

“After we broke apart we looked into each other’s eyes, and then we kissed again,” she reminds me softly. “The first kiss was just fun and recklessness and curiosity. But the second one was much more serious. It sealed it. Do you know why I kissed you that second time, Jack?”

It’s a simple question, but I can’t seem to come up with the right answer. “We’d been friends for so long. Since third grade,” I mumble. “You must have known I was crazy about you. I used to dream about you. And we always respected each other so much. You laughed at my jokes. And—”

“Shut up,” P.J. commands with a little chuckle, gently squeezing my hand.

“Okay. Sorry.”

“It wasn’t just that you liked me, Jack. A couple of other boys did, too.”

“Dozens,” I admit. “I was jealous of all of them.”

“You had your share of female admirers,” she reminds me. “It also wasn’t that we were such good friends. Nor even how cute you looked under the bleachers that day, with those wide shoulders and those bright blue eyes of yours.”

“What then?” I demand. “Pheromones? Did I smell nice?”

“You smelled okay,” she admits grudgingly. “But you were no flower garden. No, it was something I saw in your eyes after that first kiss.” P.J.’s whisper becomes softer. “A kind of genuineness … and sincerity. I knew somehow that I could trust you—that you weren’t just a bozo jock with raging hormones. I especially knew that you’d always tell me the truth. And you always did.” She lets go of my hand and moves a few inches away, so that our shoulders no longer touch. “So tell me the truth now.”

“Okay,” I whisper back. “But one question first: what if the truth doesn’t make any sense?”

“The truth always makes sense,” P.J. assures me, sounding more and more like the healthy, grounded, decisive girl I remember from Hadley. “That’s why it’s the truth.”