Not If I See You First(66)

“Hey, Parker.” Scott plops down in his chair. “So Trish talked to you?”

Jesus, he sounds excited. What. The. Hell.

“What?” I say in my thousand-icy-daggers voice.

“Trish Oberlander. She—”

“I know. I was there. Why are you talking to me?”

“I… uh… okay…” His voice sets a record for speed plummeting. “I… I know it’s not what you wanted to hear—”

“We don’t need to talk about what you think anymore.”

The icy daggers find their target because he doesn’t say another word.





While we pack up after class, I’m not sure whether I want Scott to keep his mouth shut or try to say something else so I can shut him down again. Before I think about it too long he makes his choice.

“Parker, I know you’re mad at me again,” he says softly. “But can you at least tell me what you said?”

“To Trish? You want a reenactment? Why didn’t you just watch?”

“I just want to know if you’re going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Run with her.”

My heart spasms in my chest, twice, and again, like it’s trying to escape from my rib cage. My face suddenly burns hot enough to itch and I know it’s turning red.

“Run…?” is all I can say before my throat completely clamps down.

“She’s our fastest sprinter—I’m surprised if she didn’t say that. She usually tells everyone who’ll listen. I talked to her Saturday about being your guide and she said she wanted to find out about you first. I think she talked to Jason and some others, I don’t know who. I thought when you texted me this morning it was because she asked you. She didn’t?”

I can’t speak. I shake my head but it’s so fast it probably looks more like a seizure than an answer.

“Oh. Maybe she was getting to know you but didn’t bring it up yet, or maybe she decided not to… Sorry, Parker, I… uh…” He exhales loudly. “Shit.”

I can’t breathe. I can’t… f*cking… breathe…

“We gotta go—get her stuff,” Molly says quickly. She grabs me from behind by both shoulders and pushes me through the room and I let her, walking mostly without stumbling and trusting her to steer me right.

“Hey—”

“No Scott, you stay. She’ll be fine.”

We’re out the door, lurching down the hall, turning into the bathroom, and I barely manage to hold it together until the door closes.





I’m sitting on a toilet lid, Molly outside at the sinks. I haven’t made a sound for at least five minutes, after twenty solid minutes of crying, and she doesn’t ask if I’m okay. I’m grateful. This girl’s a mind reader and after only a few weeks I hope she’ll be my friend for life.

I finally leave the stall. “We’d better get to class.”

“We’ll catch the next one.”

I hold out my hand. When she takes it I pull her in and hug her tightly.

“Thank you.”

She squeezes.

“You didn’t know what you were getting into with me. Any regrets?”

“Nope. Don’t take that as a challenge, though.”

“No promises!” I let her go. “What the f*ck am I going to do now?”

“What do you want to do?”

“To get a braille tattoo on my arm that says Don’t jump to conclusions! Just so I can remind myself ten times a day. God, I’m such an idiot!”

“Whatever it was you did, he’ll forgive you.”

“I know, but…”

“And he still loves you. I can tell every time I see him.”

“Well, he doesn’t. Trish told me this morning.”

“Oh…” Molly laughs. “Trish told you. Is that what this is about?”

“You know her?”

“Trish the Oberlander? The overachiever, the overdoer, the overreactor, the over-everything? She said Scott doesn’t love you? And you believe her?”

“She said Scott told her.”

“What does your tattoo tell you?”

“Jesus, Molly, I’m not up for this right now.”

“You and Trish have a lot in common; you throw yourselves into everything a hundred and ten percent, leaping without looking. You’ll either become great friends or mortal enemies.”

“I’m nothing like her. I don’t talk to anyone that way. Ever.”

“What’d she say?”

“That she’d cut me with a beer bottle if I got back with Scott and broke his heart again.”

“Hmmm. If some guy broke Sarah’s heart and then came back holding flowers? What would you tell him?”

After a moment I say, “Molly, I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

She laughs. “If that’s how it’s got to be. Are we done here?”

“Where’s my stuff?”

“Oh… Stockley had it. He was following us…”

We walk to the door and Molly opens it.

“Hey, she okay?”