Page 31 of The Last to Let Go
“Hey, Winters!” Dani throws her arm over my shoulder, nearly making me drop the stack of books I had perfectly balanced in the crook of my arm. I stoop to catch them before they topple. “I was calling you back there.”
“Oh, sorry. I—I didn’t hear you,” I stammer like an idiot. This has happened every time she’s spoken to me all week—as it turns out, we have AP American History, AP English, and AP Calc together too.
“That’s all right. As long as you weren’t ignoring me,” she adds with a lightness in her voice. She glances sideways at me as I struggle to reposition the stack in my arms. “Can I... carry your books for you?”
“No, that’s okay. I got it.”
She rakes her fingers through her hair, messing it up in a way that somehow makes it look even more incredible, shrugging as she mumbles, more to herself than to me, “Well, I tried.”
Seeing her so often is making it so much harder to ignore those old feelings creeping up inside of me. In the past, anytime I ever really, truly let myselfthinkabout it, there always seemed to be all these walls standing in the way. I always thought, what did it matter anyway—there was no use in trying to sort it out if there wasn’t anyonerealmy feelings were attached to. It was nothing more than a concept, a theory, impossible to prove. But I’m beginning to see that this thing with Dani is no theory, not something that’s going to fade away, not something I can simply distract myself from. Because it’s not just a safe, depthless crush; I actually like her. But the truly terrifying part is that I’m pretty sure she likes me, too. And lately those walls don’t seem so tall anymore.
“So, did you need something... or something?” I ask her, hating myself for how nervous she makes me. I try to keep us moving down the hall, toward the doors.
“You in a hurry or what?”
“Actually, I kind of am. Sorry, I have a bus to catch. I need to get home.” Which is true. Really, I should beracingto catch the bus, because I need to get Callie to her appointment with Dr. Greenberg. I regret volunteering to take her now, especially when Jackie offered to do it. But it’s not like I can explain any of that to Dani.
“Oh, you take the bus? Well, you know, I’m one of those really obnoxious spoiled brats who got a car for her sixteenth birthday—used, but still.” She pauses before she continues. “And by that I mean I could give you a ride home.”
“No,” I tell her, too quickly. “I mean... no, thank you. That’s okay. I’m fine with the bus, I just—I need to get moving, that’s all.” I take a few steps forward.
“Oh. Okay, sure,” she says, walking alongside me now. “I was just going to give you my number. You know, in case you... well, just in case.”
Another “just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” I ask her, realizing how suspicious I sound only after it’s already out of my mouth.
She squints at me before a smile breaks out across her face. “I don’t know! What, you want, like, actual concrete scenarios? Just in case of...whatever. Maybe you wanna talk or hang or have a homework question?”
“Right, of course. Thanks. Can I get it from you Monday, because I really—”
“Need to go,” she finishes, cutting me off. “I know, I know. Here, why don’t you let me get your number instead?” Pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, she stops walking and looks up at me, her mouth twitching like she’s about to laugh. “Jeez, is thatokay?” she asks when I don’t say anything.
“I guess,” I tell her.
“You’re sure?”
“Sure,” I lie, even though everything inside of me is arguing back and forth as I recite my number to her.
“Okay, I’m texting you. That way you’ll have my mine, too.” She starts tapping out a message on her phone, grinning at the screen before looking up at me. “I won’t keep you any longer,” she says, hitching her chin in the direction of the front doors.
“Thanks. Sorry,” I say, feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket as I begin jogging away.
“Have a nice weekend!” she calls after me.
When I turn to look at her, she’s standing there in the middle of the hallway, rocking back on her heels, her thumbs threaded through the belt loops at the waist of her jeans, so casually. She raises one arm to wave. Suddenly disoriented as I turn back around, I nearly slam right into someone.
I have to run to make up for the time I lost talking to her. I reach the bus just as the doors are folding shut. I find a spot with two empty seats and slump down, out of breath, finally able to let go of my books. My arms ache, fossilized into ninety-degree angles. I have to bend them out gently, curling them up and down, as the blood rushes back toward my fingers with a tingle.
The window has been left cracked open, and as the bus gains speed, a cool, welcome breeze fans my face. I feel my phone again, vibrating in my pocket, but I close my eyes, basking in this rare moment of stillness, which, for once, doesn’t feel quite so scary.
Callie’s lying on the couch when I get home, flipping through the channels. Another thing we’ve never really been allowed to do, unless we’re sick, like really sick—like doctor’s-note, stay-home-from-school sick.
“Hey,” I call to her.
She doesn’t even look away from the TV.
“Where’s Aaron?” I ask.
