A Walk to Remember - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,12

me there on the off chance that she’d already accepted Carey’s offer. It was one thing to actually go with Jamie, it was another thing to be rejected by her in favor of a guy like Carey.

“What are you doing?” Jamie asked me. “You’re moving your chair into the sun.”

“I like the sun,” I said. She was right, though. Almost immediately I could feel the rays burning through my shirt and making me sweat again.

“If that’s what you want,” she said, smiling. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Jamie reached up and started to adjust her hair. By my reckoning, it hadn’t moved at all. I took a deep breath, trying to gather myself, but I couldn’t force myself to come out with it just yet.

“So,” I said instead, “you were at the orphanage today?”

Jamie looked at me curiously. “No. My father and I were at the doctor’s office.”

“Is he okay?”

She smiled. “Healthy as can be.”

I nodded and glanced across the street. Mrs. Hastings had gone back inside, and I couldn’t see anyone else in the vicinity. The coast was finally clear, but I still wasn’t ready.

“Sure is a beautiful day,” I said, stalling.

“Yes, it is.”

“Warm, too.”

“That’s because you’re in the sun.”

I looked around, feeling the pressure building. “Why, I’ll bet there’s not a single cloud in the whole sky.”

This time Jamie didn’t respond, and we sat in silence for a few moments.

“Landon,” she finally said, “you didn’t come here to talk about the weather, did you?”

“Not really.”

“Then why are you here?”

The moment of truth had arrived, and I cleared my throat.

“Well . . . I wanted to know if you were going to the homecoming dance.”

“Oh,” she said. Her tone made it seem as if she were unaware that such a thing existed. I fidgeted in my seat and waited for her answer.

“I really hadn’t planned on going,” she finally said.

“But if someone asked you to go, you might?”

It took a moment for her to answer.

“I’m not sure,” she said, thinking carefully. “I suppose I might go, if I got the chance. I’ve never been to a homecoming dance before.”

“They’re fun,” I said quickly. “Not too much fun, but fun.” Especially when compared to my other options, I didn’t add.

She smiled at my turn of phrase. “I’d have to talk to my father, of course, but if he said it was okay, then I guess I could.”

In the tree beside the porch, a bird started to chirp noisily, as if he knew I wasn’t supposed to be here. I concentrated on the sound, trying to calm my nerves. Just two days ago I couldn’t have imagined myself even thinking about it, but suddenly there I was, listening to myself as I spoke the magic words.

“Well, would you like to go to the dance with me?”

I could tell she was surprised. I think she believed that the little lead-up to the question probably had to do with someone else asking her. Sometimes teenagers sent their friends out to “scout the terrain,” so to speak, so as not to face possible rejection. Even though Jamie wasn’t much like other teenagers, I’m sure she was familiar with the concept, at least in theory.

Instead of answering right away, though, Jamie glanced away for a long moment. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach because I assumed she was going to say no. Visions of my mother, puke, and Carey flooded through my mind, and all of a sudden I regretted the way I’d behaved toward her all these years. I kept remembering all the times I’d teased her or called her father a fornicator or simply made fun of her behind her back. Just when I was feeling awful about the whole thing and imagining how I would ever be able to avoid Carey for five hours, she turned and faced me again. She had a slight smile on her face.

“I’d love to,” she finally said, “on one condition.”

I steadied myself, hoping it wasn’t something too awful.

“Yes?”

“You have to promise that you won’t fall in love with me.”

I knew she was kidding by the way she laughed, and I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Sometimes, I had to admit, Jamie had a pretty good sense of humor.

I smiled and gave her my word.

Chapter 3

As a general rule, Southern Baptists don’t dance. In Beaufort, however, it wasn’t a rule that was ever strictly enforced. The minister before Hegbert—don’t ask me what his name was—took sort of a