get it out fast enough.
I tilt my head. “The rain?”
“No. The … um … the outfit.”
I admit I’m a bit surprised by his admission, but before I can say thank you, Owen has yanked the door open and disappeared into the building, like he’s desperate to get away from me.
Oh Happy Day
8:47 a.m.
It’s official!
I heart this day.
Everything is going exactly according to the Plan of Awesome. (I just coined that term, by the way.)
Umbrella? Remembered.
Red light ticket? Avoided.
School picture? Rocked.
When I slide off the stool and peer at the viewfinder, I am pleased to see that I am the embodiment of poise and togetherness. Not a hair out of place. Not a single smear of makeup. Which, if you think about it, is exactly how a school picture should be. You know, if you’re not me.
Even the photographer’s assistant compliments my picture. She certainly hasn’t done that before.
On the way back to chemistry, I steal a peek at my phone and see that Tristan has messaged me again.
Tristan: Did you get my texts? Wanna meet before Spanish?
Well, well. Do I sense a little bit of desperation in his voice? Interesting.
I don’t text him back, because Commandment #4, and when the bell rings, I go straight to Spanish. I do not pass Go (or Tristan’s locker). I do not collect two hundred dollars. I am a Creature of Mystery, and Creatures of Mystery don’t go tracking down their boyfriends. They let their boyfriends track them down.
I am not clingy or desperate. I am confident and deserving of chivalry.
As I approach our Spanish classroom, I hear hurried footsteps approaching and suddenly Tristan is in front of me, looking, might I add, a little winded.
Did he just run to catch up to me?
Very, very interesting.
“Hey,” he says, breathless. “Did you get my texts?”
Girl Commandment #3: Thou shall always appear busy and important.
I feign confusion and take my phone out of my pocket to look at the screen. “Oops! There they are. I just saw them. Sorry. This morning has been a little crazy.” I flash him a winning smile.
He looks deflated. I keep on smiling.
“Oh. You’ve been busy?”
I sigh like the weight of the world is on my shoulders but it doesn’t faze me in the slightest. “Yeah, the election speech is today and I have this history quiz next period I forgot to study for and softball tryouts are this afternoon. So much is going on, you know?”
“Right,” he says, but I swear he sounds conflicted. “Well, do you think maybe you’ll have some time to talk today? I thought we could chat about what happened last night.”
I pretend to check the calendar on my phone and pull my face into a grimace, sucking air between my teeth. “Eeek. Today is tough, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
I turn on my heel and head into the classroom, taking my usual seat in the back row. Once again, Tristan runs to catch up and falls into the desk next to me. I stare straight ahead but I can feel him watching me, studying me. Like he’s trying to figure out where he knows me from.
“Are you … mad?” he asks, his voice still tinged with confusion.
I give my hair a flip as I turn to flash him another beatific smile. “About last night? Of course not. It was a silly misunderstanding.”
“It was?”
“Of course. I don’t blame you at all.”
There’s a long, stunned silence. “You don’t?”
“Nope.”
I face forward and pretend to be completely rapt in the conjugations Señora Mendoza is writing on the whiteboard, but silently, on the inside, I’m squealing with delight.
It’s working. It’s actually working!
Unfortunately, however, I’m so busy trying to look busy, I completely forget about the bird that flies into the window until the giant smack makes me jump.
“¡Dios mío!” Señora Mendoza cries, hand to chest.
“Is it dead?” someone asks, racing to the window along with a handful of other students.
“It’s totally dead,” Sadie Haskins confirms.
I’m completely overcome with guilt. I should have remembered the dang bird! I could have saved him. But my grief is short-lived when I notice that Tristan is barely paying attention to the commotion the bird has caused. His gaze is trained on me. Once again, he looks like he’s trying to decipher the unbreakable Code Ellison.
Señora Mendoza redirects the class’s attention and continues on with her lesson plan. When she turns her back, I see Tristan scribbling something on a piece of notebook paper out of the corner of my eye. He checks