Pivot Point (Pivot Point #1)(19)

He gives me a half smile that only half hides the confused look in his eyes. “Okay, bye.”

As soon as he’s gone, I pull out my cell phone and text Laila: It’s hard to play Normal. Oh, and I’ve found your eventual replacement.

Thanks a lot. Who is she?

It’s a he. And for a Norm, he seems pretty cool. Definitely best friend material.

I’m irreplaceable. Gotta go, Mr. C is giving me the eye. I think he’s reading my mind. Better concentrate on blocking it.

Trevor walks past the row, his stack of books half as tall, stops midstep, and backs up. “You really are ditching class.”

I smile, feeling like the rebel I’m not. “Yep.”

He shakes his head and keeps walking.

I pull out my notebook, turn to a blank page, and write, The ghost of Charles Dickens told me that after he turned over in his grave, he couldn’t go back to sleep. He’s decided to leave eternal rest, reinhabit his decaying body, and exact revenge on you for disturbing his slumber. You’ve been warned.

I rip out the page and fold it in half twice, making sure the corners are perfectly lined up. I haven’t had to make a friend since kindergarten, and apparently my tactics haven’t changed much. I write his name on the outside of the paper. Now, how to give it to him.





CHAPTER 9


ap?PA?RA?tus: n. any organization of activities aimed toward a set goal At lunch, I make it a point to sit more than an arm’s length from Laila.

She laughs. “You’re not still mad at me for yesterday, are you?”

“No, I love it when you throw me off the stage to make me talk to a guy I hate.”

“You do not hate him.”

“You’re right. That would require too much energy. I have no feelings toward him whatsoever.”

“You should tell that to your face, because it was looking at him pretty dreamily in the parking lot yesterday. Duke’s charm is already working its magic.”

She’s right, but I’m trying to talk myself out of it. Duke and I have absolutely nothing in common. “No,” I say defensively. “I’m immune.”

“Nobody is.”

Students talk in concentrated clumps on the grass surrounding the stage, and my eyes are drawn to a pair of guys fighting a hazy ninja. A teacher walks over, picks up the hologram simulator, and pockets it, the ninja disappearing. The guys moan their objection. I take a big breath and look back at Laila. “I’m not acting out enough.”

Most of the time Laila can follow my erratic subject shifts, but this time she says, “Uh … what?”

“I’ve been thinking about books where the main character’s parents are going through a divorce. A big theme is rebellion. I think I should give it a try.”

She laughs. “Addie and rebellion. Those two words don’t fit together.”

At first I’m tempted to be offended by the comment, but she’s right. I’m not rebellious. Not even a little bit. But considering the insane amount of tension still present between my mom and me, I’m pretty sure I can channel rebellion right now. “I can totally do it.”

“You do know you’re speaking of fiction, right? Your novels aren’t supposed to be study guides for human behavior.”

I shrug off her comment. “I have at least a six-month window where my parents will blame themselves instead of me for anything I do wrong. I was thinking of a blue streak in my hair.”

Her eyes light up as though she’s suddenly on board. “Really? Because that would be so awesome.”

“Is that enough? I don’t want to go over the top, but I don’t want to undersell my suffering either.”

“It’s only enough because your parents have told you not to touch your beautiful blond curls before. My parents wouldn’t even notice.”

“Am I too late to join the conversation?” Duke asks, jumping up to sit on the stage beside me. It surprises me because I didn’t see him coming. The other thing that surprises me is how I forget how gorgeous he is until he’s next to me again. If he’s going to start coming around more, I need to find some flaws to focus on. I study him for a moment but come up empty. He’s flawless. Not even a single zit. New strategy. I will not look at him.

“Addie was just telling me how she was going to add a blue stripe to her hair today after school,” Laila says, filling him in.

“That would bring out your eyes,” he says.

“How would that bring out my eyes?”

“Because your eyes are …” He trails off as I meet his gaze. “Uh, brown. Your eyes are brown. I could’ve sworn they were blue.”

“It’s hard to keep track when you’re looking into so many, isn’t it?”

He narrows his eyes in confusion and I try not to laugh.

Laila hits my leg. “So you should come help us dye Addie’s hair after school.”

I keep myself from gasping my objection to her offer and add, “Yeah, sure. We’re doing it at Laila’s house.”

She scrunches her nose and throws me the thanks-a-lot look. “We are?”

“Yes.”

“But no one will be at your house. My dad and brothers will be at mine.” That’s her nice way of saying she doesn’t want Duke at her house.