Midnight Sun(12)

By now I’ve come to terms with the fact that talking to him is pretty much my only option if I ever want to see my notebook again. I sigh. “Only if you try to be nice to this Garver guy. I feel sorry for him.”

“Gross, no,” she snorts. “Call me after.”

She hangs up before I can say anything else.

Left with no other choice, I take a deep breath and start walking over to Charlie. I’m almost in front of him when he looks up and sees me. I’m rewarded with the biggest, most welcoming smile I’ve ever seen. He’s got these perfect lips—not too pillowy, not too thin—that look like they’ve never been chapped a day in their life. His teeth are perfectly straight and white. His eyes are so warm and friendly that they make me feel like I’m drowning in an ocean of kindness. I’m so dazzled, I even forget for a second that I’m mad he invaded my personal space.

“You are real,” he says. “I thought I might’ve dreamed you or something.”

“Were you in the REM stage of sleep?” I say. He looks unsure of how to respond to my lame joke, so I plow ahead. “Just kidding. I mean, I know you weren’t because I talked to you and you were awake. But that’s when dreams happen, because your brain activity is high, and your eyes are actually moving the whole time behind your eyelids, which is so weird, it looks like a typewriter or something…”

I stop short, realizing I’ve done it yet again. Charlie is grinning at me. Not in a mean way. Just, like, nice. Amused.

“Anyway, thanks for babysitting my notebook,” I tell him, trying to grab it.

But he’s gripping it too tightly. It stays in his possession. “I still don’t know your name.”

“It’s Katie.” I guess that’s the secret password, because he hands my notebook over. I scan the pages to make sure nothing’s changed. It looks okay, but I just have to ask. “Hey, you didn’t actually read it, did you?”

“Maybe a little…”

Now I’m mortified and mad all over again. Maybe the girls at Purdue High let him get away with anything just because he’s cute, but that’s not how I roll. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” His eyes are wide, like he’s actually surprised I might not want him knowing what’s in my journal.

“You can’t just read people’s stuff,” I tell him, holding up the book as evidence. “This is like my diary, you know. Is that your move? You do that grin thing, and just because you’re handsome, you think you can get away with invading people’s privacy?”

Charlie grins that charming grin again. “You think I’m handsome?”

Shame burns up my cheeks and my ears. I’m blushing so hard I’m practically sweating. I’m hoping the fact that it’s nighttime makes this less obvious.

Charlie holds up his hands. “Hey, the invasion of privacy was minimal and necessary. You left so fast, and I just wanted to see who it belonged to.”

I stay silent. I’m not letting him off that easy.

“I like that you handwrite things,” he adds softly. “It’s old-school. It’s cool.”

And just like that, I’m, like, totally in love with him again. I can’t help it. My major crush is no match for my minor anger. A little smile curves up my lips. “Well, thanks. For not invading it too much, I guess.”

I consider that maybe Morgan and Dear Gabby were right. Maybe I do need to give Charlie—and other people my own age—a chance to surprise me. After all, tonight went relatively smoothly. I turn to leave, proud of myself for handling the situation so well without all the talk about dead cat funerals this time.

“Did another cat die?” he calls after me as I go.

I laugh and turn back around. “No, I’m just heading home.”

“Can I walk with you?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I’m giddy with happiness on the inside but don’t want to act anywhere near as enthusiastic as I’m feeling. Something tells me Charlie Reed has never had to work very hard to get a girl, and I need him to know I’m different. Not because of the XP, I mean, but just because I’m me. “Fine, okay.”

We walk slowly down the middle of the road. There aren’t any cars around to worry about, so we’re just meandering and making small talk. Everything’s quiet, and our footsteps echo off the sleepy houses we pass. It’s nice. Comfortable.

“So you were homeschooled?” Charlie repeats after I tell him. “That’s wild.”

I think about all those nights my dad drilled me on the periodic table, or the constellations, or Latin conjugations. Charlie’s assessment of homeschooling is so off base it’s laughable. “It was kind of the exact opposite of wild,” I tell him. Then I add, “My dad’s really protective,” even though I figure by now that this has got to be pretty clear.

Charlie looks left, right, up to the sky, then back at me. “He’s not, like, watching us right now, is he?”

“Oh, totally. He’s got a drone on us for sure.”

He laughs. And then I laugh, mostly because I’m amazed I made him laugh. Who knew my life could go from the deepest depths of the dumps to this kind of amazing high all in a span of twenty-four hours?

“So I kind of need to know… what did you think?” I ask.