Complete Nothing (True Love #2)(36)

“If you see Claudia, you can tell her I’m doing great,” Peter said, jerking the plate and cup toward him. “And I hope she is too.”

“Will do,” I replied with a smile.

Together the new couple walked over to a table near the window and sat down across from each other. They made conversation for half an hour, but Peter checked his phone under the table at least four times a minute. Checking for calls, for messages, for tweets. And I knew exactly who he was hoping to hear from. At least I hoped I knew.

But Josie . . . she was completely focused on Peter in a way that was rare for kids these days. She wanted him, and I could tell she was the type of girl who wasn’t going to stop until she got what she wanted.

I had to fix this situation, and I had to do it fast.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Peter


I stared at my history notebook, the applications pushed aside. It was now after eleven and I still had to memorize these dates for my quiz tomorrow. A fact I had completely spaced on while making out with Josie at the park outside our grade school after Goddess.

My head hit the desk. What had I been thinking?

But then I remembered her lips, her hands, the glitter, and I knew. I hadn’t been thinking. I’d been doing. For once. I’d done what I’d felt like doing instead of wondering whether it was right.

The door to my room opened. I lifted my head, and the notebook page stuck to it for a second before detaching itself.

“Where did you go?” my mother asked, crossing her arms over her stomach.

My heart thudded. So she’d checked on me while I was gone. She looked tired, the lines around her eyes deeper than usual. But she always looked tired. That’s what being a divorced single mom of two kids did to a person, I guessed. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore a faded Lake Carmody High Football sweatshirt from my freshman year.

“Sorry,” I said. “The guys came by and I just figured . . .”

“You figured you’d go out without telling me?” she asked, raising one palm. “That’s not like you, Peter.”

I felt this irrational stab of anger. “I know it’s not like me,” I snapped. “Maybe that’s the point.”

She blinked. “Don’t yell at me. I’m not the one who did something wrong here.”

I hung my head in my hands and stared down at my notebook, the words and numbers blurring. She was right. I was the one screwing up. I’d never snuck out of the house before. I’d never had to. My mom was the opposite of strict. So why had I done it tonight?

“What is going on with you lately?” she asked, putting her hand on my back. “You’re so . . . tense.”

“I just . . . I have so much to do,” I told her. “Scouts are coming to the game this weekend, I have applications and homework and practice.” I paused, knowing she wasn’t going to like this next part. “And I broke up with Claudia.”

Her mouth dropped open and she sat on the end of my bed. “You did? When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, a crease forming between her eyebrows.

I kind of did, but I knew she had a million things to do. So did I. And I was already so exhausted my eyelids were heavy. “Not really,” I told her. “Maybe later?”

“This weekend,” my mother said, getting up. “I’ll help you with those applications and you can tell me about it. Deal?”

I smiled. “Deal.”

She kissed my head again and whispered into my hair, “I love you, kiddo.”

As lame as it sounds, my heart felt warm. “You too.”

She walked out and closed the door behind her. I stared down at the list of dates and tried to concentrate.

1952: Dwight Eisenhower elected president.

1953: Korean War ends.

1955: Rosa Parks refuses to give up her seat on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama.

1959: Hawaii and Alaska become states.

This sounded somehow familiar, but impossible to remember. Especially when I was dying to put my head down on the desk and pass out.

“Make it into a song,” I heard Claudia say in my ear. “Sing it to the melody of the ABCs. It’ll help you remember, I swear.”

I saw her in the corner of my room, doing a little dance as she sang the periodic table of elements last year. I’d cracked up and grabbed her, unable to resist throwing her down on my bed and kissing her until she stopped singing and started laughing. Back then I’d wanted more than anything to be as close to her as possible. What the hell had happened? When had everything changed?

I looked at the clock again and groaned. This was getting me nowhere. I was not supposed to be thinking about the girl I’d dumped. The girl who had moved on to some lame-ass texter. She didn’t care about me, so why should I care about her?

But still, I saw Claudia. Dancing.

“Focus,” I said to myself, pulling the notebook closer. “You can do this. You don’t need her.”

I started to hum the ABCs and got down to work.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


True


Laughter. I walked into my house that night after eleven p.m., and the first thing I heard was laughter. I froze with my hand on the brass doorknob, and then closed the big creaky door as quietly and slowly as I possibly could. It clicked shut and I held my breath, then turned the lock silently.