“Yeah,” he says into the phone. “I will. Yeah…sure. I’ll do it when I get home.” He hesitates, glancing over at me. “Love you too.” When he hangs up, his neck is bright red. “Shit, I’m sorry about that, Eve.”
“Don’t be,” I said, even though that call is a bitter reminder of yet another reason why we can never be together.
Some of the post-sex euphoria dissipates in the wake of that phone call. It’s funny that in all the months Jay and I have been sneaking around, I’ve never once been interrupted by a call or even a text message from Nate. He seems glad to have me out of the house.
Jay chews on the lower corner of his lip. “Next week?”
“Absolutely.” It’s the best part of my week—I would never miss it.
As the two of us get dressed among the boxes of shoes in every single size, I can’t help but think about how much this means to me. It’s not just the best part of my week—it’s everything to me. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t wish Jay and I could run off together.
But in my heart, I know this will all end horribly.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Eighteen
ADDIE
AS TODAY’S meeting of Reflections is coming to a close, Mr. Bennett crooks a finger at me. “Addie, can I talk to you for a minute?”
I’ve been going to meetings of the poetry magazine for a few weeks now, and I’m finally starting to feel like I’m part of something. Lotus sometimes waits for me after the meeting is over, and we walk to our bikes together, although I still am not sure if she likes me or not. Sometimes I think she despises me and would murder me in my sleep if she had the option, but other times she seems to be happily tolerating me. In any case, I wave to her to go on without me, although I can see in her eyes she’s curious about what he wants to discuss with me. Lotus absolutely idolizes Mr. Bennett.
I hang back in the classroom while Mr. Bennett shuffles through some papers on his desk. He waits until everyone is gone before he lowers the papers and smiles up at me. “Addie,” he says. “Guess what?”
I love the way Mr. Bennett’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. In the month I have been in his class, I have noticed he has two kinds of smiles. There’s one he uses in class when he’s trying to encourage students, but it’s not as genuine. When his eyes crinkle, that’s when I can tell he’s actually happy.
“Good news?” I ask.
“So there’s a statewide poetry competition.” He rubs his palms together. “And every year, I have the opportunity to submit one poem from all my classes. And this year, I want to submit your poem.”
My mouth falls open. Mr. Bennett teaches multiple English classes, and on top of that, he’s got all the kids from the magazine to choose from. Lotus, for example, is an incredibly talented poet. All her poems are better than any one of mine. Has he lost his mind? Does he think that I’m Lotus somehow? “Mine?” I finally squeak.
He beams at me. “Yes! I want to submit ‘He Was There.’ I think it’s brilliant. One of the most moving things I’ve ever read.”
That’s the piece about my father. I’m having a serious choked-up moment. I’ve learned to get used to his praise, but not this much praise. It might be too much, like I might explode from the amount of approval I’m receiving right now. Like when a starving person suddenly gets a bunch of food and then they die from it.
“Are you sure?” I say.
“Addie.” He folds his arms across his chest. At some point after the last bell rang, he undid the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his forearms—now I can see the dark hairs on his arm. None of the boys in my class have that much hair on their arms. Hudson just had a little, and it’s pale blond like the hair on his head. “Addie, you have to believe in yourself a little bit. Because I sure do.”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“Your poem is amazing.” His brown eyes hold my gaze. “You are amazing, okay? You are a master of this craft, even at sixteen.”
If anyone else said it to me, I would think they were being patronizing. But somehow, when Mr. Bennett tells me I’m amazing, I actually feel that way. Like maybe there is something out there that I’m good at, even though being a poet would be a stupid and ridiculous career for me and I really should become a nurse like my mother says I should.
“I’m not amazing at math,” I blurt out.
I feel dumb for having said that, but for some reason, it makes Mr. Bennett laugh. He throws his head back and gives a great big belly laugh. I can make out a tiny silver filling in one of his back teeth. “Is my wife giving you a hard time?”