Populazzi - By Elise Allen Page 0,33

I told Claudia.

Claudia climbed down from her bed and sat in front of me. She took my hands and looked me in the eye. "Archer does not want to be your boyfriend," she said mercilessly.

I cursed myself for feeling tears spring to my eyes.

"Know it," she continued. "Believe it. Be cool with it. If you can do that, not only will you get to be with someone who does want to be your boyfriend, but you'll also get back a guy who had become a really close friend. Don't you want that?"

The tears dried up before they ever spilled over. Once again, Claudia knew exactly what to say. I did want that. I wanted it badly.

"Okay," I finally agreed, "tomorrow morning I climb back onto the Ladder."

Chapter Eleven

I left Claudia's house feeling strong and decisive. She was right—climbing back onto the Ladder was my key to getting over Archer. After all, I tried to convince myself, it's not as though I was in love with him or anything. How could I be? We were never even together. So it couldn't be heartbreak that had my stomach in knots at the very idea of being around him again. It had to be simple embarrassment. Yet if I stepped back and looked at the big picture, was what happened between us that hideous? No, not terribly. It could even be funny one day, months and months from now, when I was happy with someone new.

But that would come later. If Archer and I were going to be friends again right now—something I really did want—there was only one way to make it work.

I let my car idle in the school parking lot and listened to the drum of the downpour outside. I concentrated on the sound and took deep breaths, letting the noise drown out every negative thought in my head. I knew exactly how I wanted this to play out, and I didn't want anything to throw me.

Finally I raced inside, ditched my coat in my locker, grabbed my books, and zipped into English class less than a minute after the bell rang.

"The Hyacinth Girl!" boomed Mr. Woodward as I walked in. He pointed the Bat at me, stopping me in my tracks, then fixed me with a knowing glare. "Do you know why I'm calling you the Hyacinth Girl, Cara?"

"Because I'm late, my arms are full, and my hair is wet?" I said, remembering the passage from T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land.

Mr. Woodward smiled. "I see the tryptophan didn't stop someone from doing her reading over vacation. Well done."

He lowered the Bat and let me pass. I walked straight to my old spot next to Archer as if the past several weeks had never happened, and I reclaimed my old perch on top of the table.

"A continental shift," Mr. Woodward noted, then continued with the class. Archer, however, sat in his chair with his jaw hanging open. He looked up at me as if for an explanation, but I didn't give him one. I didn't ignore him, though. Not even remotely. I smiled down at him every time Mr. Woodward or someone else in the class made us all laugh. I rolled my eyes to him whenever someone said something ridiculous. I made sure he was one of the people I looked at whenever I spoke up to make a point.

I expected it to be harder than it was. But any time I looked at Archer and felt a pang, I heard Claudia's voice saying, "Archer does not want to be your boyfriend." It wasn't fun hearing it over and over in my head, but it was effective. And while I didn't exactly get over him in that English class, I started to feel like maybe one day soon I could. Plus I had a new incentive: just interacting with him the littlest bit in class reminded me how much I missed hanging out together. Getting that back without all the pain was totally worth a few harsh reality checks.

But I knew I couldn't really be around Archer without some ground rules, so when class ended, I fell into step next to him.

"Cara, I—" he started, but I held up a palm and silenced him.

"Just answer me one question: do you want to be friends again?"

"I never wanted to stop being friends. Look, can't we—"

"Please-please-please, just say yes or no. Do you want to be friends again?"

I could tell he was struggling not to say everything he wanted. I

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