It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,26
or something. Not the kind of tone he usually uses on me. “So you’re not worried about being found out?”
“I’m being careful.”
“Honey. No. This is not careful. This is playing with fire. No. This is playing with fire and a big can of gasoline. This is playing with fire, a big can of gasoline, and kerosene as backup. This is…”
I put my hands in the air. “I get it. I get it. I’m an idiot. But honestly, it’s a fun distraction.” I take another sip. Try to act nonchalant. “And it’ll be fine as long as I never give him my cell number.”
Ben raises his eyebrow. “You two are in class together. You used to be friends. For some reason, he’ll need something. He’ll ask you for your number, and what are you going to say?”
I chew on my straw. “I don’t know. Ugh. You’re right. I’m screwed. Oh my God.”
Ben plays with his eyebrow, which he only does if he’s superstressed. “We’ll figure something out. But man, Jenna, when you go, you go big.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Speaking of going, let’s move. I think the cool fall air might calm me down.” He fans himself.
We open our doors almost on cue. He races around to meet me with my crutches. His car’s a bit low for me, and I need a little boost. “You’re a little savage, aren’t ya, girl?”
“Savage and stupid.”
“Nah. I think you’re just moved by love.”
“Who do we love?” Chip comes up behind us, and I want to die.
“Who don’t we love?” Ben quips, his arm slung around me so that I don’t faint right there in front of Julian’s friend.
Chip cracks up, then jogs ahead of us.
I jab Ben in the ribs. “That was close.”
“Too close for comfort. We will discuss this more when it’s safe.” Ben walks me to my hallway. “If only you were in my classes.”
“I know.”
“Is this revenge plan against your parents worth our being separated?”
“No. But bonus? Guess who’s in my English class.”
Ben kisses me on my cheek. “You’re playing with fire in all areas of your life. You know that, don’t you?”
“I like to be consistent.”
“Yes. Yes. Consistency. So important.” He points at me. “See you at lunch. Don’t you do anything ridiculous until then.”
I watch him walk away and wonder if he’s right that I’ve bitten off way more than I can chew. The bell rings, and it feels like a warning.
And a warning I will most likely disregard as I practically sashay into my English class. Julian comes in at the echo of the bell, and I’m sitting in the back of the room so that I can see everything that happens in front of me, including his entrance.
My seat allows me to gawk as Julian lowers himself into his chair with careful deliberateness. Mr. Stechshulte gives him a smile that’s half pained. I’ve seen Julian move on the ice, where he flies. If he’s late to this class, it’s on purpose.
Mr. Stechshulte starts, “Class, I am on the verge of making a terrible decision. Please talk me out of it.”
Everyone sits up straighter. Tori holds up her new iPhone. “Should I get it on Snapchat?”
The class laughs. So does Mr. Stechshulte. Also Julian. He leans toward Tori, his chin in his hand, and looks at her like she’s something special. It feels like someone punched me in the stomach.
“I’m going to let you guys choose the next book we read.”
“Captain Underpants,” Steve Maxwell, with his thick neck and meathead body, yells out.
The class laughs some more until Mr. Stechshulte holds up a copy of Great Expectations and one of The Great Gatsby. Needless to say, I’ve read both of them. Twice. But with this class, no matter what the book is about, they are going to vote with their eyes. Gatsby is a much thinner book, by more than half.
“Show of hands.” Mr. Stechshulte holds each book up, moving them forward one at a time and collecting votes. Like I thought, not even close. “Okay,” Mr. S. says, “we’ve got our next book.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Julian slump lower in his chair. I remember he said he hated to read. The Great Gatsby is a great read. It’s filled with really cool symbolism and incredible scenes. But most of all, it’s about a guy who loves a girl who, even though she loves him back, is unable to act on that love. She’s this little bird trapped in her gilded cage, and, even