Make It Count (14 page)

And the knowledge that she truly might be different. That she truly might not get better with extra studying was a punch she didn’t have the ability to block.

And of all people,
Alec
had to be the one to see it. In what world would someone like him be with someone like her? Kat-land, that’s where. And unfortunately Kat-land was a mystical, fantastical place where she rode a unicorn through fields of golden wheat while eating chocolate that was somehow delicious and still fat free and cute little pheasants lined her path, blowing bubbles on her—
because who didn’t like bubbles?
—while telling her how brilliant and smart she was.

Kat-land was
awesome
.

Too bad it wasn’t real.

Chapter Eighteen

A
LEC
STOOD IN
the shower, the water sluicing through his hair and down his back. He wondered how long he could shower without turning into a prune or Max invading his sanctuary. He could still hear his friend banging around in his room on the other side of the bathroom.

After Kat ran down the stairs, Alec had mumbled about getting in the shower and bolted.

What Alec really wanted was to melt into a pile of goo and be washed down the drain. That’s what he deserved. Because it was obvious he had hurt Kat. Twice. Not only for talking about her to Danica, but for turning coward and denying everything to Max. Because as soon as he had agreed with her, Kat had looked even more devastated than before. Which he hadn’t thought possible.

With Max standing there, he couldn’t admit what he and Kat had. He thought that was the right decision, to stay loyal to his best friend. But as soon as Kat turned her back, he thought about never being able to laugh at her silly jokes, or run his hands over those soft hips, or smell that citrus shampoo on his pillow.

And now he wasn’t so sure about his choice.

He slammed his hand on the faucet, turning off the shower, and stepped out. He dried off hastily and wrapped a towel around his waist. As soon as he stepped outside of the bathroom, Max raised his head from where he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey.” Max didn’t sound as mad as Alec thought he would.

“Hey. What are you doing home?”

“Needed to get a book for an assignment I need to work on tonight. I’m heading back home because I have to get up early to work at the garage.”

“Oh.” Alec brushed by him and went to his room. Hopefully alone.

Unfortunately, Max followed him.

“So . . . Kat?”

Facing away from Max, Alec slipped his boxer briefs on under his towel and then took it off to dry his hair. “What about her?”

Max was silent, and Alec turned around. It felt like a face-off, and Alec really wished he was wearing more clothes.

Max didn’t say anything, just squinted his eyes at Alec and shifted his weight from foot to foot. It was unnerving to see Max so uncertain, so lacking in confidence.

“What’s going on with you, man?” Alec asked. “You ever going to tell me why you’ve been so fucking weird this whole year?”

Max took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. He opened his mouth, but then winced and turned his head to look out the window. A prickly feeling crept up Alec’s spine. “Max?”

“So, Kat was okay last night? You kept an eye on her?” Max kept his eyes trained out the window.

“Kat was fine,” Alec said slowly, unwilling to lie anymore. And conveniently pretending there was no lying by omission.

Max nodded and then turned to leave, avoiding all contact with Alec. “Great, thanks. See ya tomorrow.”

When Alec heard the front door slam shut, he released the tension in his shoulders, then yelled in frustration. What the fuck was going on with Max? And most important, why wouldn’t he talk to Alec? Since they’d become best friends in first grade and shared lunches out of their Transformers lunch boxes, Max had always been transparent. He didn’t hold back, which actually resulted in many detentions and missed recesses when they were kids. And the weirdest thing was, he’d never been a bully, which was why his behavior toward Kat was confusing.

Alec was a small kid with glasses. His mom called him a late bloomer, which was a nice way of saying it took for-fucking-ever for his voice to deepen. But Max had always been a stocky kid, friendly, unless you pissed him off, and then he had a face like thunder.

An easy target for bullies, Alec was on his third pair of glasses that his mother could barely afford during first-grade recess. Some big kid named Kevin had been holding said glasses, twisting them in his pudgy fingers.

And then, like some sort of Old West movie—minus the tumbleweed—a shadow fell over Kevin. The kid looked up, but he didn’t have a chance. Max grabbed Kevin’s wrist, wrenched it painfully and said “Drop ’em.” Like Kevin was a dog.

Kevin dropped the glasses, no one ever bothered Alec again, and Max and Alec had been at each other’s side ever since.

Alec flopped back onto his bed, sheets still rumpled and smelling like Kat. He missed her. He missed the old Max. He missed his life when it wasn’t complicated.

And he would bet a million bucks things were about to get worse.

T
HE WOODE
N CHAIR
was uncomfortable, the smoothie tasted like grass and Alec was prepared to punch the next person who glared at him for tapping his pen on his book.

Kat was half an hour late for their study session. He told himself she was late. He didn’t want to believe she wasn’t coming. He hadn’t seen her since Saturday and he knew she had her midterm in an hour.

He wanted to see her, but he also wanted to make sure she did well on her test. Was she nervous? Did she study well? His mind was consumed with Kat, and he wanted to scream.

He took a gulp of his smoothie and cringed, wishing it was chocolate milk.

He stared blankly at his mock trial notes and then checked his watch again. Only five minutes had passed? This was torture.

Half an hour later, he was still alone. And an hour after that.

The room was too quiet, dull and dark. It took the shadow of Kat’s absence for him to realize how much he’d grown addicted to her light.

He stayed until her midterm time was over, hoping she’d stop in at the library afterward.

But she never did.

Chapter Nineteen

K
AT WALKED OUT
of the statistics classroom, head held high despite her certainty she had bombed the midterm about five minutes earlier.

Glass half full, she was not.

But her studying during the past week had taken a nosedive. Every page of her notes, every highlighted section in her textbook reminded her of Alec. And then she wanted to cry. So she would cry. Then she’d have to clean her face. She’d do that and then sit on the toilet for half an hour staring at the walls. Then she’d return to her books, start studying and it would start all over again until she decided to sleep.

Clearly, none of that was productive.

Her stomach churned at the thought of Alec dismissing her in front of Max. And her head pounded when she thought about the fallout if Max found out what happened. She’d never want to come between two friends.

It made her want to stomp her feet and pull her hair and wail, “It isn’t fair!”

Shame on her for thinking she could get and keep a guy like Alec Stone.

Kat trudged through campus, her windbreaker no match for the March breeze. When she reached her suite, she let herself inside and headed straight to her bed. She fell into it—jacket, shoes and all.

“Uh-oh,” Tara’s voice came from somewhere behind her. “Test didn’t go well?”

Kat shook her head, face planted into her pillow.

“Aw, Kat.” The bed dipped and Kat rolled to her side to see her friend sitting on the edge of the mattress

“I need to get out of here.” Kat brushed her hair out of her face.

Tara frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going home. This was my last midterm. I was going to go home for spring break anyway, and now I’m going to go a day early. I can’t . . . I can’t deal with any of this right now.” Kat hopped off the bed and dragged out her suitcase, throwing random clothes into it.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Tara said. “Get away, gather yourself, then come back and kick some school butt.”

Kat gave her a suffering look. “Please don’t go all motivational poster on me.”

“What? I’m trying to be encouraging. Isn’t that what friends do?”

Kat smiled. “Yeah, thanks.”

It was another hour before she finally managed to make it out the door, dragging her heavy suitcase behind her and wondering why she packed for five million years when she planned to come back to school in a week.

Oh well, a girl still needed to coordinate her casually chic sweatshirts with her yoga pants. Even though Kat hadn’t done a day of yoga in her life.

It took another fifteen minutes to reach the underclassmen parking lot on the outskirts of campus.

By the time she made it to her car, she was sweating under her coat and her shoulder ached from her suitcase. This was why she never drove anywhere, because her car was parked in flipping Siberia.

Then she got in her cute little red convertible Volkswagen Beetle—wishing it was summer and she could put the top down—and pulled out of the parking lot and drove.

As the miles stretched behind her, she purposefully didn’t think about midterms or learning disabilities or smart guys with glasses who could kiss
really
well. She blanked her mind into Kat-land, where everything was perfect.

That lasted for a whole five minutes before her mind reverted right back to where it wanted to—thoughts of Alec.

Stupid brain.

She wanted him. She didn’t want him with the teenage-like hormones that she had wanted all her other boyfriends—Max included. She wanted Alec because he laughed at her jokes and made her feel witty and looked at her like she hung the flipping moon in the sky. Because she dared to think they could be partners in this crazy thing called life.

It was an abrupt change from her norm of adolescent relationships. Sure, lust played a part in how she felt about him, but there was also a stronger emotion, another one that started with an L . . . and it hit her.

It hit her at the same time as a flash of tan and white fur skittered across the road in front of her. She tightened her hands on the wheel, swerved while screaming, and the car fishtailed before stopping with a jolt on the side of the road.

“Oh. my. goodness gracious,” she breathed. “I almost killed a rodent, and I’m in love with Alec Stone.”

She wasn’t sure which was more depressing.

After sitting on the side of the road for who knows how long, still gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, she took her foot off the brake and continued home. Now, her mind was actually blank, as if the realization had given it some sort of electrical shock. She didn’t plan to defibrillate it for a while. Poor, tired brain needed to rest.

She finally made it home an hour later. Her house was three stories, made of contrasting brown and white stone, with a large, white wraparound porch and a wide staircase leading to a double front door.

She pulled into the circular driveway and parked, then lugged her bag out of the trunk.

“Mom! Dad! Hello!” She said as she stood in the foyer, determined not to take another step. They could come to her.

Footsteps clicked down the stairs and then her mom appeared in the hallway ahead of her. She wore kitten heels and a light blue knit dress, which matched her eyes. The eyes Kat had inherited, along with her mother’s hair. “Katía? Why are you home at”—her mom checked the grandfather clock at the entrance—“eight at night on a Thursday?”

“I needed a break, and so I came home a day early.”

“A break?” her mother asked, but Kat didn’t have a chance to answer before her father’s voice boomed from the entrance to his office farther down the hall.

“
Minha flor
,” he said softly, using the Portuguese term of endearment meaning “my flower,” his pet name for her for as long as she could remember. Kat wasn’t bilingual anymore, but knew a couple words of her parents’ mother language.

He walked toward her, arms outstretched, his skin and dark hair a handsome combination as always.

“Hey Daddy,” she said, falling into his arms and wishing for a moment that she was nine years old and her biggest problem was what hair bow matched her outfit.

“We never get visits from you, and on a Thursday?” he said, leaning back to study her face.

She shrugged, unwilling to start listing the many reasons she had returned home. “Like I told Mom, I needed a break.”

“Hmm,” her father said, still studying her face and she knew she wouldn’t get out of an explanation before the end of the weekend. He released her, giving her a reprieve for now. “Are you hungry? We can heat you some dinner.”

“What did you have?”

“I made roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and asparagus,” her mother said.

Kat’s mouth watered, reminding her she skipped dinner. “Oh, yes, please. Sounds delish.”

She followed her parents into the kitchen, thinking only of filling her belly and sleeping in her queen-sized bed with a pillow-top mattress.

The rest of her worries could wait.

T
HE MORNING LIGHT
creeping through her pink lace curtains woke up Kat, and she snuggled down further into her comforter. She’d slept like the dead last night, and now today, she had to drag her ass out of bed and do something.

She wanted to wallow for a week, stomping her feet about boys and school and the injustice of her life. Okay, so she was a little dramatic. She’d never claimed not to be.

Since Saturday, she’d typed
dyslexia
into Google several times, but never once had she hit
ENTER
. She’d avoided learning more, worried about being different, worried about Alec being right.

She emerged from her cocoon of bed covers and grabbed her laptop off of her nightstand, where she’d placed it after hastily unpacking last night.

This time, when she typed
dyslexia
, she actually hit
ENTER
.

And her world was
blown. up.

These sites spoke her language. These blogs were people who were like her. Troubles with reading comprehension and writing. Words disjointed on the page in front of her. Some inability to focus. She read about famous people—including Albert Einstein—who were dyslexic. When she read “dyslexia is not a sign of poor intelligence or laziness,” she had to press her fist to her mouth to stop the tears.

After a quick trip to the kitchen for some coffee and toast, she returned to her bed and took a short online test to identify dyslexia. Most of her answers showed a moderate to severe rating, which identified strongly with dyslexia.

Her parents had already left for work, and she was glad. Because she didn’t know how she was going to tell them.

There was only one person she wanted to speak to.

She took a shower, slipped into her gray sweater dress with a black belt and black knee-high boots over leggings, and grabbed her keys. She was heading back to school.