P.S. I Like You (14 page)

As far as writing my stepdad a letter, that’s a really good idea. One I might be able to do. I mean, I know a girl who just skims letters, but unlike her, he might actually read the whole thing.

Thursday (me):

I hope you’re not referring to me when you say you know a girl who skims letters. I read at least half. That’s much different than skimming. I measured this week in letters so I think you’ve underestimated their importance in my life. Well, at least their importance in my Chemistry class. That’s almost the same as life. And now that it’s almost Friday, I’m already dreading the no-letter weekend. No, but really (do I say that a lot?) I think a letter to your stepdad is a great idea. You should try it and if it works, let me know. Then maybe
this will become my go-to form of communication with my parents from here on out. Talking is so overrated, I am learning.

And there is no way I’m including lyrics in a letter. I don’t share my unfinished songs with anyone. When I write the perfect one, then I will share.

Friday, him:

You don’t share your songs with anyone? As in, no one has read any of your song lyrics? How are we supposed to write songs if you don’t want anyone to hear them? We must work on this.

I loved Flight and Fight. They only have three songs though. Unless I’m missing something. Tell me that they have more hidden songs somewhere. And I’m with you on measuring this week in letters and the two-day drought we are about to experience. If only there was a way to transport letters faster, through some sort of electronic device that codes messages and sends them through the air. But that’s just crazy talk.

Friday from me:

Sending letters through the sky? Like when airplanes attach notes to their tails? I thought they only advertised for going-out-of-business sales. But perhaps our
letters would be okay up there as well. I wonder how much they charge per word.

Nope, no hidden songs from Flight and Fight, unfortunately. Maybe you should offer them some of your lyrics for their next song. Considering how awesome your lyrics are, I’m sure they’ll accept. I should stop teasing you about that, considering I won’t share lyrics with you … or anyone. You’re right, it is something I need to work on. Confidence. I’m bad at it. I get too self-conscious. Especially about things that mean a lot to me. I feel like if I hold things close, never share, then I never give anyone the opportunity to judge me.

I
sat on my bed, strangling the neck of my guitar and staring down at the lyrics I had finally been able to write. I was now trying to find the perfect melody for them:

I’ve turned waiting into a form of art.

Tied twisted lines around my broken heart.

To keep me hanging on for one more day.

I’ve painted on a crooked smile.

Hung the tears to dry awhile.

Because I knew that you’d come back to stay.

But my … arms are empty.

And my … heart’s in pieces.

And my … soul is twisting.

And my … throat is aching.

Because I’ve finally woken up to find:

That I’ve been Left Behind.

The song wasn’t finished, but I was satisfied with the first verse and chorus. I patted the newspaper clipping on my wall.

“I’m getting closer,” I told it.

Now I only had to work up the nerve to actually let someone else hear the song. One step at a time.

An image had worked its way into my mind as I wrote. It had inspired the
crooked smile
line. Lucas. The way he’d looked at me at the football game. I knew he wasn’t my letter writer—as a senior, he didn’t take Chemistry—and therefore not who this song was about. But his face was inspiring me. That, and the letters. Apparently my pen pal was good luck. His letters put me in the mood to write songs. And even with the interruptions constantly happening at my house, if I would reread one of his letters, I was back in the moment. It was amazing. It made time fly by. I didn’t even mind that Isabel was out of town and that I stayed home all weekend. I got to stay in my little bubble of writing and daydreaming.

If I hummed in the school halls on a Monday, would I get kicked for it? Mondays weren’t for humming. It was probably better to keep the song in my head. My heart was singing too, bouncing around in my chest as I headed to Chemistry. When I walked into the classroom, a wall of noise hit me. People were chatting, texting, laughing. My eyes went to the front of the classroom to see a substitute. Then my eyes were on my seat. Sasha, who normally sat in the second row, was sitting next to Lauren.

My heart dropped.

I reminded myself that we had a seating chart that the sub would have to use to take roll. So I went to claim my place. Sasha and Lauren were in the middle of a conversation I couldn’t help but overhear.

“I tried that,” Sasha said. “It didn’t work. What else does he like? I swear I’ve never had to work this hard for a guy to ask me out in my life.”

“Why don’t you ask
him
out?” Lauren suggested.

“I tried that, too. He laughed it off. Like I was joking or something.”

Were they talking about Cade? Maybe Isabel was right. Maybe he and Sasha weren’t dating yet.

I reached the girls and cleared my throat. I offered Sasha a smile when she looked up at me.

“Oh, hi, Lily,” Sasha said. “Let’s switch. Mine is row two, fourth seat over.”

“I’m sure Mr. Ortega left the sub the chart.”

She shrugged. “We’re both here so it won’t matter. It’s not like he’ll know which one of us is which.”

“Right.”
I just wanted to read my letter.
I could see the penciled words on the desk, as obvious as if they’d been written in neon lights. That arrow pointing to the bottom of the desk, basically showing her there was something waiting there, was as obvious as ever. Why hadn’t I erased the desktop?

She widened her eyes at me. “What?”

If I said something now, she’d discover the note for sure. “Nothing.”

I turned and forced myself down to the second row, thinking about how Sasha and Cade would be perfect for each other.

I glanced over my shoulder again. Maybe I didn’t have to worry about her finding the letter at all. It was possible my pen pal had gotten displaced today, too. Maybe there wasn’t a letter.

Or maybe Sasha was about to find it because her eyes were now on the desktop, her head tilted as she read the words there. My heart was pounding. Lauren whispered something to her and Sasha laughed, her focus changing direction. I took a breath of relief.

I looked over my shoulder so much throughout the rest of class that finally Sasha let me know exactly how she felt about it with a rude hand gesture. I hadn’t meant for her to notice.

Toward the end of class the door squeaked open and in walked Cade Jennings. Great.

“Can I help you?” the sub asked.

Cade’s eyes scanned the room, landing on Sasha. She smiled and he winked. Looks like she hadn’t needed to worry after all. Cade walked a few steps forward and addressed the sub. “Yes, I was told to inform you that your class should get out ten minutes early today to give the students time to get to the assembly.”

“Really?”

While Cade was playing whatever prank he and his friends decided was funny, I figured I should probably write my pen pal a letter even though I hadn’t read his yet. I didn’t always
need to be the responder. I’d write him a letter, then leave it on my way out.

I pulled out a sheet of paper while the sub looked through his notes on the desk, trying to confirm Cade’s claim.

Almost out of time. Haven’t read your note yet. Long story.

Remember a while back, I was trying to leave you on a happy note and I ended up talking about Mondays and how they suck … sort of defeating my purpose? Well, I take back my labeling of poor, innocent Monday. I found myself humming this morning on my way to class. Is it illegal to hum on a Monday? I blame you.

“I see nothing about this,” the sub said.

“That’s why I’m here telling you,” Cade answered with his big smile.

“Your name?”

“Jack Ryan.”

He said it in a casual tone, not in the deep voice that would indicate he was mocking the teacher. Sasha snorted from behind me and that’s when the teacher’s brow went down.

“Young man, wait here for a moment.”

“I would,” Cade said, “but I’m on a secret mission.” He headed for the door and waved to Sasha on his way out. She laughed and then he was gone.

The sub looked around at the classroom in annoyance. “Who in here is willing to give me his name?”

Nobody said a word. I was so tempted to. I wanted Cade to have some consequences once in a while. But I stayed quiet with the rest of the class.

The bell rang and I grimaced. I quickly jotted down a closing line on the piece of paper.

Sorry it’s so short, started too late. I’ll make up for it tomorrow.

I folded the letter and slowly packed my things. I just needed to wait until everyone was gone. I stood up and nearly ran into Sasha’s chin.

“Do you have a problem with me?” she snapped.

I took a step back. I should’ve known looking at her for the first half of class wasn’t going to be tabled with one rude gesture. “No. I don’t.”

“You were mad about me stealing your seat? You don’t think Lauren is your friend, do you?”

I hadn’t been expecting this. “No,” I snapped back.

“I’m glad you know your place.”

“Is there a problem, girls?” the sub asked.

Sasha’s smile made its first appearance as she unleashed it on the teacher. “No, we’re just talking about meeting up later. See you.” She turned and took her long legs and perfect hair out of the room.

“I wouldn’t want either of you as friends anyway,” I said way too late.

“What?” the sub asked.

“Nothing.” I walked to my normal seat and squatted down, pretending to tie my shoe. Then I exchanged the notes.

I lingered for a moment, staring at the desktop—my initial exchange with my pen pal. The sub was busy writing on the whiteboard so I took out a pencil and erased as much as I could as quickly as I could. Satisfied I didn’t have to worry about someone like Sasha reading it ever again, I got up and left.

I ducked around the first corner and hugged the letter I’d retrieved to my chest. It was nice to have a distraction. My heart was still beating fast from my confrontation with Sasha and from the hurried erasing session. I unfolded the letter.

Yes, you should stop mocking me about my song lyrics. I think Flight and Fight would welcome my suggestions. I was just getting ready to write a song about all the things I hated about Chemistry. It would’ve been a really good song. Okay, fine, I’ll stop. Maybe. But only if you start writing down some of your lyrics for me. I want to read them. Don’t be self-conscious. I’m sure I’ll love them. I get it, though—the holding important things close. I have a hard time sharing private things too … except with you for some reason.

I was thinking about the Thanksgiving tradition you told me about a few letters back and how fun that sounded. Maybe I’m just craving pumpkin pie. Maybe I’m just craving a crazy home life. It seems like we have
the opposite problems. My family ignores me, yours is too present. Maybe we can get them all together and somehow they will balance each other out.

Maybe we would balance each other out …

The wall against my back was doing a good job of keeping me steady. I felt wobbly. Maybe my pen pal and I
would
balance each other out. Maybe we were perfect for each other. I smiled, read the letter again, then carefully folded it in with his other letters that I kept in my backpack.

My head was in the clouds for all of two seconds until I realized we’d have to
meet
if anything else was going to happen. Me on paper was not the same as me in real life. I mean, I was exactly the same, but less awkward. My mind went to both the times I’d hung out with David and how horribly awkward I’d been. Whoever my pen pal was, he’d want nothing to do with me once he found out who I was. Or maybe getting to know someone through letters first was a good idea.