Gave me life once again
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Forty-One
ADDIE
EVEN THOUGH ENGLISH is my favorite class, it’s gotten harder and harder to pay attention.
When I look at Nathaniel—who I have to call Mr. Bennett when we are in class together—all I can think about is how it feels when he touches me. I am counting down the seconds until we can be together in the darkroom.
It used to be that when we were in class together, Nathaniel would smile or wink at me. It made me feel like he thought I was special. He’s careful not to do that anymore, and even though I understand why, it still drives me wild when he winks or smiles at other girls. We don’t communicate at all during school hours anymore, except in the most professional way. If there’s something he wants to tell me, he sends me a message through a Snapflash, which vanishes after sixty seconds.
I can’t wait until we’re alone. It’s been over three weeks since we began sneaking off together to the darkroom—nearly every day. On the days he works at the school newspaper, I go to the library and do my homework while I wait for him to be done. I suggested joining the paper myself, but Nathaniel said it was a bad idea. He said the more time we spend together in front of other people, the more likely it is that they will catch on.
Ever since that first time we made love in the darkroom, we have done it every single time. Pretty much the first thing he does when we get inside the room is start kissing me and pull down my pants, sometimes before we’ve even said two words to each other. It was stupid to think all we would do is kiss. It makes him so happy. I enjoy it too, but it thrills me most how much he likes it. He says that he and Mrs. Bennett don’t have sex anymore. That they haven’t in a long time.
While I sit in English class, struggling to focus on the lesson, an announcement blasts over the loudspeaker. I recognize Principal Higgins’s voice.
“Attention!” she calls out. “I want to offer a big congratulations to the winner of the Massachusetts poetry award, from our very own Caseham High…”
I sit up straight, my heart pounding. That is the poetry contest that Nathaniel entered me in. The one where he chose my poem out of all the others to feature. He was only allowed to choose one, so if the winner is from our school, that means that I won. I actually won a prestigious statewide poetry contest!
The principal continues, “We would like to congratulate Mary Pickering!”
What?
Mary Pickering? That’s Lotus. But he didn’t enter Lotus in the competition—that’s why she was so upset. So I don’t understand. How could she have won if he didn’t even enter her?
I look over at Nathaniel, but he is looking away. It’s like he’s refusing to catch my gaze.
If I couldn’t concentrate before, it’s about a thousand times worse now. I don’t understand what happened. He told me he entered me in that contest. Was he lying?
No, Nathaniel would never lie to me. We know each other too well for that. Except I can’t come up with another explanation.
I try to catch him after the bell rings, but he takes off like a flash, and I’m left behind, my head still spinning. We’re supposed to meet after he’s done with the school paper, but I can’t wait that long. So I grab my phone and send him a message in Snapflash:
What happened? I thought you entered me in that contest?
Thankfully, his reply comes soon after:
I promise I’ll explain everything when we meet.
I stare at the words on the screen, which don’t explain anything. But at least he admits he has explaining to do.
On top of that, he ends up being twenty minutes late for our liaison in the darkroom. I stand there waiting for him, getting more and more irritated, and when the door finally opens, I’m ready to jump out of my skin.
“Addie.” He reaches for my hands to try to bring me close to him. “I am so glad to see you. It’s been a long day.”
When he touches me, I usually melt into his embrace, but this time, I resist. I am angry at him, damn it. He owes me an explanation. “What happened with that poetry contest, Nathaniel? You told me you entered my poem.”
“I know, and I am so incredibly sorry.” He hangs his head. “You have to know, you were my first choice. I loved your poem, and I think you would have won easily. But Lotus went to the principal and complained that I had chosen a poem written by a junior, when traditionally seniors are entered in the contest. I wanted to fight for you, but given my feelings for you, I was worried it was a conflict of interest. And you have a chance to be in the contest next year, but this was Lotus’s last shot.”