Adventures of a Graveyard Girl (23 page)

I nodded. I didn't know what to say. You're welcome? It seemed too formal.

"And, um, you're really okay and all, you know, just so you know," Ariel kept talking.

An okay from Ariel regarding me was about the same as her telling me I was an awesome person. I was floored. Wow, all I needed to get back on Ariel's good side was to save her life. Another part of me wondered how long this would last. Surely, once she got back to her normal life, Ariel would forget all about me and go back to the popular crowd.

Ariel continued, "And, I wanted to say, um, maybe we could go get peanut butter banana milkshakes at Wired sometime like we used to? You know? Just talk like old times if you're okay with that."

Okay, now I was really floored. Ariel wanted to go get peanut butter banana milkshakes with me at Wired? Where someone might see her? And, yes, that used to be one of our things when we were friends - drinking peanut butter banana milkshakes together since we had discovered them together, but wow, I was surprised that she had brought that up. Ariel could have just stuck with the - I'm sorry and thank you and I would have been pretty impressed.

"That sounds fun," I said once I found my voice.

Ariel nodded, then smiled, "Okay, well, then I'll let you rest up. Ethan told me I only had like five minutes. He like likes you, you know. Like a lot."

"I know," I said.

"Okay," Ariel said, letting go of my hand. "Bye, then."

"Bye," I said.

Ariel walked out of the room, stopping to look back at me once. Our eyes met and then she was gone. School was going to be an interesting place on Monday, that is, if I made it back there by Monday. Although, I really couldn't afford much more make-up homework, so I was actually hoping that I wouldn't have to miss much more school.

Ethan walked back into the room. My heart flipped. He was amazing.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," Ethan grinned back. "Did it go okay with Ariel?"

"Yeah, it went great," I said, "It was so weird."

Ethan laughed, "A good weird, though, right?"

"A good weird," I said.

Ethan sat down in the chair next to me and took my hand in his. We just stared at each other in silence.

"I've been thinking," Ethan started.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Well, it kind of feels dumb to do it like this, but how do you feel about being my girlfriend? You know, to make it official?" Ethan asked.

My jaw wanted to drop open, but I wouldn't let it. Was it possible that Ethan had been having the same thoughts regarding our status as I was? I thought guys didn't care so much about that stuff. Wait. Maybe it meant that he really, really, really like liked me. Wow. That was cool.

"Uh," I started, "Yeah, that sounds pretty cool. Sure."

I thought that was a pretty nonchalant response, especially when my brain and my heart were exploding with happiness and all I wanted to do was run around the room screaming - Ethan Ripley is officially my boyfriend! My life totally rocks!

"Cool," Ethan said.

"Cool," I said and then paused. Something else was on my mind, "Um, can I ask you a question?"

"Go for it," Ethan said.

"Can I introduce you to someone?" I asked.

"Sure," Ethan said. "But I've already met your dad."

"I know. It's not my dad," I said. "It's sort of this lady, who's kinda like my grandma and anyway, I told her about you and she really wants to meet you."

"Sure," Ethan said.

"Cool," I said.

Leonora was going to be so excited to meet Ethan and I wasn't scared what Ethan would think about that anymore. He knew me better than anyone. We had crashed funerals together. And, he like liked me enough to call me his girlfriend, no matter what anyone thought of me. Besides, Leonora really was like my grandma and I did want Ethan to meet her.

"Before we do that, though, can we plan an official date first?" Ethan asked. "I mean, our last first date, kind of ended abruptly."

Our last first one had been the Homecoming Dance and abruptly was definitely a good word for how it ended.

"I can't wait," I said. "Boyfriend."

It felt so great to say that word out loud. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops - Ethan Ripley was my boyfriend! Officially!

Ethan smiled at the word, "Good. Girlfriend."

Okay, as a note - it was even better hearing Ethan say the word girlfriend. There was only one other thing that would make this moment perfect.

"Before we do that, though..." I started.

"What?" Ethan asked.

I smiled and grabbed Ethan's shirt, pulling him toward me, and kissed him - our first official boyfriend/girlfriend kiss. Sigh. I never needed to have another peanut butter banana milkshake ever again.

###

Read an excerpt from Milda Harris’ new book - available June 2012!

I knew it was going to be a bad day when I woke up just as my first period English class was starting. It was totally unlike me to be this late, ever. I was usually the good kid, always on time, always prepared. Last night, though, I had stayed up way too late reading
The Hunger Games
. It was that good and books were my one vice and besides, I wanted to find out what happened to Katniss and Peeta. I loved to read and when a book got good, everything else went to hell. Yeah, I was a bookworm and I loved it. Now, I was probably going to get detention for tardiness and I’ve never gotten detention. Ever. It was going to be just one of those days. I knew it.

My mom was working the early shift at the hospital. She was a nurse. My dad had left us when I was five, so he wasn't in the picture anymore. I barely ever saw him. He lived across the country in Portland, Oregon and had remarried with no kids. Still, he was just too busy with his own life, it seemed, to make time for me. I'd grown to be okay with that, although it was really hard when I was five. Regardless, all this meant that nobody was at home to drive me to school. Normally, I liked having the time to myself. I read and ate breakfast and somehow managed to get ready in time to make the bus despite it all. Those mornings were perfect and quiet and spent thinking about the book I was reading and what was going to happen to the characters next.

On the mornings she was home and not working at the hospital, my mom tended to ask a lot of questions about school and boys and life over breakfast. There was no time for reading - it was interrogation time and it drove me totally insane. I just wanted to wake up in the mornings, maybe read and eat something. Not answer fifty questions. Besides, there was never anything new to tell. I didn’t have a boyfriend. My grades were good. That was pretty much the extent of my life at the moment. I was the quiet girl, so my social life was really kind of lame. I mean, my friend Olivia and I hung out all the time and watched movies and went to the mall, but that was the extent of it. I know it's boring to most people. I was totally fine with that, though. Olivia and I had a lot of fun hanging out. And, anyway, from all the teen movies I had seen and the books I had read, nobody liked real life high school anyway.

Since I had now missed the bus and my mom was at work, I knew I had to make my own way to school. My old bike was in the garage. Definitely not the way to show up to school in style, but it was going to have to do. It was only a three mile bike ride to the high school. It wasn’t going to be fun, but at least it was only fall and in Illinois and that wasn’t so terrible. And, at least, it wasn’t snowing or raining or a billion degrees and humid. It was mostly just leaves turning colors and falling and that was actually kind of pretty and I loved the smell of the cold, crisp air.

I grabbed my books and a breakfast bar and pulled my bike out of the garage. I had no idea where my old bike lock was, so hopefully nobody would steal my ancient bike at school. Not that I ever rode it anymore anyway, so it wouldn’t be that big of a loss. It was so junior high to ride a bike. Besides, I had just turned sixteen and had my license. It was way cooler to drive, if only I had my own car. One day. I was dreaming about a sleek blue convertible - the kind that would be perfect in a place like California, but my car would probably end up being an old Honda Civic. That was cool. It was still a car that could take me wherever I wanted to go without having to borrow the car keys or worse, my mom having to drop me off. I mean, as long as it didn't break down. That was one of my worst fears - being stranded, alone and without help on some highway in the middle of nowhere, where your cell phone didn't work. That was terrifying.

I pedaled down my street on my bike, dreaming of my one-day car. I wondered if I'd get one before high school was out and I went to college. I hoped so. I wanted to drive to school my senior year. I pedaled on and on. The leaves were starting to change color and I probably should have paid more attention to the beautiful ride, but I had to think about my history test. I had World History second period and we had a big test. I had studied a little for it last night, but I was still running dates and practice questions through my mind. I probably should have studied harder. It was just that I had been dying to get back to
The Hunger Games
and finish it. The second book was sitting in my bag burning a hole in it and waiting for me to crack it open. I couldn't, though. I had to keep studying and going over questions in my head. I hoped that I wasn’t about to flunk because of my reading problem. That would be sort of ironic, right? I didn't study because I was reading. I was every teacher's dream student, except that I wasn't reading my history textbook.

By the time I made it to school, I was fifty minutes late. If I didn’t hurry, I would be late for my World History exam too. I wasn’t even sure what Mr. Meadows’ policy was on tardiness and tests. I hoped I wouldn’t have to find out. I threw my bike in with the others at the bike rack and ran for the entrance. I had five minutes.

The Security Guard at the front doors stopped me, “You’re late.”

He was an off duty police officer picking up extra cash and I could tell his coffee hadn't kicked in yet. He was looking at me like he was exhausted from a never-ending week and really could care less that I was late because I was no threat to the security of the school. Still, it was his job description to send me down to the office to get a tardy slip and potentially get in trouble for being so late to school.

“I know,” I said.

“You have to go to the office,” The Security Guard reminded me as if I didn't know and motioned to the main office, as if it was an effort. He took a sip of coffee gratefully.

I groaned, wanting to complain because I really did need to hurry and get to my class for the test, “But I have a test this hour.”

“Rules are rules,” The Security Guard said and pointed me toward the office again, clutching his coffee for more energy.

There was no way around it. If I had to go to the office and get a pass, I was totally going to be late for my World History test. Nobody got out of the office fast. My shoulders slouched and I wanted to pout, but I walked into the main office anyway, and up to the front desk.

The Receptionist looked up, “Late?”

I nodded.

“School ID?” The Receptionist asked as she pulled out a form to fill out.

I put my backpack on the ground and rifled through my front pouch. I finally found my ID at the bottom. I hated the picture and placed it face down in front of the Receptionist.

The Receptionist picked it up, looked at my horrible school picture ID, and continued to fill out the tardy form, “This will take a minute. Have a seat.”

I nodded and looked behind me at the row of chairs that were for students to sit in while they waited to talk to the principal, get a pass, or get detention. There was only one other girl sitting, waiting, and I was horrified to see that it was the one person in the whole school that I would rather not be sitting with, waiting for a tardy slip.

Her name was Melissa Day. I hated Melissa Day and normally I didn’t hate people. It started when we were in grade school. For some reason, Melissa thought it would be funny to call me Orange. My first name is Citrus and yes, I can see the funny, but when you’re seven being called something that is not your name is a big deal and I hated Melissa Day for it ever since. Besides, Melissa kept it up and still called me Orange if I ever had to speak to her. We're in high school. It should have been old by now. Mostly Melissa ignored me. We were in two different social circles. I was a normal girl and Melissa was popular. So, it was the usual division of high school classes. I was grateful for it. I didn’t like being called Orange. So, not having to talk to Melissa was a good thing.

I sat down as far as I could from Melissa and turned my back to her. I pretended to look at my history notes, hoping that Melissa would take it as a hint and not speak to me. She didn’t.

“Orange, what are you doing in here?” Melissa asked, putting particular emphasis on the word Orange.

I felt like someone had just scratched their nails over a chalkboard. I attempted to ignore Melissa again, hoping she would get the hint.

Melissa wasn’t the type to be ignored, “Orange. I’m talking to you.”