Page 38 of The Tattered Gloves
That was the text I received on my phone at lunch.
I stared at it, perplexed.
The only person I’d given my number to was Allison, and I’d told her to call me only in case of dire emergency. She’d called about half a dozen times.Dire emergencywas a loose term in her vocabulary.
I was starting to run out of minutes on the prepaid phone I’d brought with me, and as much as I didn’t want to put my hard earned cash into something as stupid as a phone, it was becoming inevitable.
Leaning over, chewing on a carrot, Allison read the confusing message.
“That’s Sam’s number. I gave yours to him,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Can you tell me what it says?” I asked.
She laughed. “How have you made it all the way to sixteen? I swear, you’re like an alien.”
She shook her head and read the text aloud. Most of it, I’d figured out on my own, but having her read it confirmed what I’d suspected.
“So, you guys are partners for Mrs. Landers’s dreaded history project? I was so glad I got Mr. O’Connell for History this year.”
I nodded. “Does it bother you?”
She shrugged, grabbing another carrot. “No. Why would it? Sam and I are still friends.”
“Oh, okay,” I said. “I just haven’t heard you talk about him, so I didn’t know.”
“Sam and I are just going through a rough patch. We’ll be fine.”
I wanted to press on, to figure out exactly what kind of rough patch she was talking about, but it was clear that this was a subject she wasn’t interested in talking about — at least, not in the middle of the packed cafeteria.
I let it go, my mind still revolving around the text I’d received.
I thought about it all the way to History class until I realized I hadn’t responded.
Sliding into my seat in the back, I pulled out my cell phone and quickly replied with, “Okay.” I hit Send, taking a quick glance around the room for him at the same time.
The bell rang, and students ran to find their seats, but Sam wasn’t one of them.
I looked around but still couldn’t find him.
He was a no-show.
My phone buzzed once again in my hand.
Come prepared.
For some reason, I looked up once again and scanned the room.
Nope. No Sam.
Yet he was somewhere, texting me.
My eyes went to the seat of the girl he’d been hanging out with lately, the one he’d been practically attached to in the hallways, wondering if she was the reason for his absence. But, she was sitting back in her chair, looking bored.
Where is that boy?
I LOOKED FOR Sam after class, but he was a ghost in the hallways as well.
I did find him after school at the bookshop, but from the flushed tone of his cheeks, I was guessing he had just beaten me there.
