Page 136 of What I Like About You

Ollie told him everything—in unnecessary detail.

“Ollie,please.”

Scout’s head pops up, alert.

Ollie holds my hand and I don’t even realize that it’s shaking—thatI’mshaking—until he steadies me. My vision blurs. The feeds were moving faster than I could read them and being cut off sendsa shock of panic through my system. I need to know what the world is saying, even if I don’t speak back. Is Nash going to tweet more information? Will everyone hate me? I don’t know how to respond. I just know I need to, well,know.

I close my eyes and count the beats of my erratic heart until it steadies.

I wipe my nose with my shirtsleeve. “I need to see it.”

“Not productive. Is now a bad time to say I told you so?” Ollie asks.

I don’t even have the energy to flip him off. He’s right.

“Twitter will die down. I give it twenty-four hours at most. Let’s face it. You’re notthatinteresting.”

Insert Angry Sister Glare here.

“He’s pissed.Obviously,” Ollie says. “Collecting the receipts isn’t going to help.”

“He unfollowed me,” I say.

“I’d unfollow you too,” Ollie says.

“Please. Give me. My laptop.”

“No,” Ollie says. “Take another hiatus, Hal. You seriously need it.”

Ollie takes my laptop upstairs and we are not okay.

Nothing is okay.

“I can’t do this.”

“Halle,” Gramps says, his tone even. “You’re going to school.”

We’re parked in the MHS student drop-off area, Gramps and me. Ollie’s long gone, off to lock up his baseball stuff before firstperiod. We were supposed to walk in together, Ollie and me. But I’m frozen in my seat. Ican’t.The idea of walking into school? Of seeing Nash? Facing Le Crew? I can’t do it. Iwon’tdo it. Nope. I need more time. One pajama day with Scout was not enough. I need infinite pajamas days.

Kels is back on hiatus. Can’t Halle be too?

“I’m going to fail my calc test,” I say.

“That’s probably true,” Gramps says. “Who cares, though? You got into NYU.”

“Gramps.”

“Hal,” Gramps says, “you can’t hiatus from life. When people mess up, there are consequences. So I’m sorry, I love you, but you’re going to school. You can’t avoid him forever.”

“Not forever. Just until I figure out what to say.”

Gramps starts the car. “Isn’t that the problem? You waiting to figure out what to say?”

My eyes widen. Gramps is right. He’s alsosavage.

“Either you go to school today, or you come to the Jacobsons’ seder on Wednesday.”

Passover starts Wednesday night and under no circumstances will I be attendinganything, never mind a seder, at Molly’s house. It’s a tragedy, because honestly, I wastotallylooking forward to my first proper seder. A few weeks ago, Nash explained to me how it goes down at Molly’s—less party than Rosh Hashanah, more prayer and reflection. And great food.

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