Page 11 of I Would Stay Forever
Honestly, despite my plan to get out of town once graduation hit, I hadn’t given much thought to university. I knew I wanted to go, but I wasn’t sure where. My only thought until now had beenanywhere but here. Applications weren’t due for a couple more months, so I had time, but I was a little embarrassed as I shook my head.
“We should look at programs together,” she said. She bumped her hip into mine. “We could even room together next year.”
I smiled. “I’d like that.” It would be nice to have a friendly face around.
“Ah, Miss Novak,” the receptionist said, pulling free a light blue paper from the stack. She squinted at it for a moment, then at me. “Interesting collection of classes you have there.”
I took the paper from her hand and scanned it as she asked for Zoey’s name, grinning to myself as I realized why she’d said that. Because I was a senior, I had a free period this semester, but my other classes were a mess—on top of my core classes, I was taking Art of the Arctic, Satire in Literature, and the History of Warfare.
Course registration had been only two weeks after Dad left. I hadn’t given any thought to my courses before that, so when the school called to see why I hadn’t registered for any courses in the online portal, I told them I didn’t care what I took and to just stick me in whatever classes they wanted. I had to assume they put me in the classes with the fewest number of students.
Zoey glanced at my schedule as we walked out and her nose crinkled. “I didn’t even know we had a class called History of Warfare.”
Neither did I, but I guess I was taking it now. It was going to be an interesting semester to say the least.
“And then my math teacher said that he wanted to get an idea of all of our skill levels, so he gave us an entire packet to do tonight.” Zoey sighed and slumped against the locker next to mine. “Can you believe that?”
“Rough morning,” I said distractedly. I was busy frowning at my locker and trying to get the stupid thing to open. I was sure I’d put in the right combination of the lock, but it kept getting stuck. I tugged on it hard, but aside from the sound of creaking metal, there was no change.
“Do you need a new locker?” Zoey asked, tilting her head to the side to study the locker. This wing was known for having the worst lockers in the school, but I’d never had this much trouble. I groaned as I tugged on the locker door again and there was no movement at all. Finally, I just slammed the side of my fist against the metal and voila, it popped open.
Zoey snorted. “Have fun dealing with that all year.”
I stuck out my tongue at her and swung the locker door open all the way. As I did, a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground by my feet.
“What is it?” Zoey asked.
“I’m not sure,” I mumbled as I leaned down to pick it up. It was tightly folded in a small square, the outside blank. When I opened it, there was a hastily scrawled note inside.
Meet me under the football bleachers after school.
I turned it to Zoey so she could see the message and her eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“I wonder who it’s from,” she said. She took the note from me and studied it as if she thought that she could somehow glean the identity from the handwriting.
“Dunno,” I said. I opened my backpack and started shoving the textbooks I’d gotten from my morning classes into the locker. It was the lunch period now, but I hadn’t gotten the chance to check out my new locker before classes. “It must have been left for whoever had the locker last year. Guess whoever left it didn’t realize they’d already emptied it out.”
Zoey’s brows were furrowed as she looked at the locker then at the note still in her hand. I swore I could see the cogs turning in her brain. She was probably making up some grand romantic story of my secret admirer in her mind.
“Nobody even knows this is my locker yet,” I reminded her. Then I waggled my eyebrows. “Unless, of course, you’re the one who wants to meet me under the bleachers after school.”
She laughed and shoved the note back at me. “Yeah, you wish.”
Even though I knew I should just throw the paper out, I looked at it again. The handwriting was on the messier side, although it was still readable. If I had to guess, I would say it was a boy’s handwriting—probably a note left for his girlfriend last year. That was the only reason I could think of for him to not sign his name.
“Come on, we should get to the cafeteria before they’re out of all the good food,” Zoey said. She started down the hallwayand I quickly slammed the locker door shut and jogged after her. And even though there was no reason for me to keep the note, since it wasn’t even meant for me anyway, I tucked it away in the safety of the front pocket of my backpack, deciding that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to check under the bleachers after school. Just in case.
seven
I feltlike an idiot as I walked out the back door of the school later that day. I knew nobody would be waiting for me under the bleachers, yet my feet carried me across the tarmac toward the large football field and the grey bleachers surrounding it. The only times I ever came back here were for Sebastian’s soccer games, which were on the other field. Unlike most of the student population, I had very little interest in sports—other than volleyball, of course.
The sun was beating down as I stepped outside, only worsened by the fact that I was wearing a dark blazer. I slipped my sunglasses on my face and pulled my hair up in a messy bun to get it off my neck, but otherwise kept my face down like I was worried about somebody seeing me. It wasn’t like it was against any school rules to come back here, and I was sure nobody would even bat an eye at it, but I had an odd feeling that I was doing something wrong.
There was a surprising number of people out back, even though no clubs or sports teams had started yet for the year. Some girls were dotted around the football field, doing cartwheels and flips while their friends gossiped and took videos—probably the cheerleaders prepping for try-outs this week—while some guys ran the tracks. Shirtless, of course, because who wouldn’t want to see that?
I glanced around as I came up to the side of the bleachers, looking to find an opening to fit under them. I had a weird feeling that I was being watched, even though I didn’t recognize anybody around. At least, not until I glanced at the far side of the field where there was a railing dividing the track from the bleachers, and I saw Sebastian, lips locked with Tiffany.
I froze. Sure, there was no reason I wasn’t allowed over here. No reason for this to be questionable… except that everybody knows you go under the bleachers for privacy. As in, the perfect place to make-out with no witnesses. Sebastian and Tiffany could probably take that tip, except they were extremely into PDA to a nauseating degree. But Sebastian knew how gross I found that, which meant if he saw me coming under here, he would probably think I was meeting a guy. And if he thought that, then he would come over to threaten him and…
