The Museum of Heartbreak - Meg Leder Page 0,32

mine. I turned toward chemistry, leaving behind Tonka trucks and Vivien and Delphine and M&M’S.

I waited for her to call my name.

The first bell rang.

I listened.

The second bell rang.

I felt Eph’s subway token against my chest.

At that point the Bearded Lady sent me a little gift. It wasn’t the bursting into unexplainable flames I’d been hoping for, but it was a spark.

I was angry.

Yesterday Audrey should have been excited for me, not judgmental.

And Cherisse was mean and terrible and I didn’t want to be around her at all, and if she was such a good friend, Audrey could keep her.

Maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore. Maybe that was just better.

And I was going to talk to Keats, today, right now—bad morning, Cherisse history, armpit hole be danged.

When I stepped inside the classroom, I saw him sitting by the window, so I sucked in my breath, made sure I held the sleeve with the armpit hole close against my side, and slid into the desk in front of him.

Talk to him. Talk to him.

“Hey, Keats,” I said.

He met my eyes and I held my breath, and oh man, there it was: that half smile, that slight turn up of one side of his grin.

“Hey, Scout.”

The fire sparked further, bolder, encouraged.

“So, how’d the rest of the party go?” I asked, making myself talk slowly, trying to ignore the way all the blood in my body was rushing to the very tips of me.

He rolled his eyes. “There was puke in the backyard and two busted wine glasses, but I got everyone cleared out by four and no cops, so all in all, not so bad.”

“Oh, good, good. It was a really good party, good and all, um . . . ,” I said, thinking, Don’t be pathetic—stop saying “good”!

Mrs. Carroll entered the room and began handing out quizzes.

He cleared his throat. “So, how’s On the Road going?”

“Thanks for that, by the way! I haven’t started yet, but I’m planning to tonight.”

His face fell. “You hate it, don’t you? First I forget your name at the party, then I give you a book you hate . . .”

“No! I honestly haven’t started it yet. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression, honestly.”

He shook his head. “Really? You don’t hate it? Because my ex, Emily, hated it.”

Turns out Keats was a little bit nervous too.

“No, I haven’t even cracked the spine. I’m sure I’m going to fall totally in love with it.”

His eyes widened at the phrase, and I clamped my mouth shut and turned around.

A big bucket of water fell on the little spark that couldn’t.

What was wrong with me?

From the front of the room Mrs. Carroll cleared her throat. “Let’s start with last night’s reading. Who wants to tell me about covalent bonds?”

I am pathetic, I thought, the words cold and final.

But then, from behind, someone took my hand and pressed something into it, something small and square, folding my fingers over it one by one.

A shiver ran up my arm.

A small miracle.

I slid my hand into my lap and opened the tiny square as the girl in front of me raised her hand and started reciting facts about electron pairs and valences.

COFFEE ON SATURDAY? I WANT TO HEAR MORE ABOUT KEROUAC.

2PM, CAFE GITANE, SOHO?

K

Sunshine exploded in my heart and out my mouth and my ears and from my chest, and it blinded everyone in the class, setting the world on fire.

I turned my head slightly over my shoulder.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“It’s a date, Scout.”

My heart was a goner.

• • •

I left chemistry ablaze with miracles and luck, waving good-bye to Keats as he walked down the hallway, then waving again. I hated the word “squee,” but at that second I couldn’t think of a better description for what I wanted to do.

I had to find Audrey. The note was in the palm of my hand, like a talisman, like an honest-to-God real-life miracle, and I wanted to show her Keats’s handwriting—proof it was happening—so we could erase the fight, so everything could go back to normal, the way it always had been.

But when I got to the cafeteria, PB&J and Diet Coke in hand, she was sitting across from Cherisse.

I stopped, watching them.

Cherisse was making funny faces at Audrey, and even though Audrey clearly had been crying earlier—her face was puffy and her makeup streaked—she was currently laughing so hard she was holding her stomach like it hurt.

Backing up, before Audrey could see me, I turned and walked