Run(17)

I ain’t gonna let Agnes know how upset I am, though. She’d feel guilty, even though I’d asked her to do it.

“Not bad,” I lie. “If we get caught, at least we’ll have some killer mug shots.”

She smiles, but just barely.

I ain’t used to this. To her being so distant. It’s got me scared, but I don’t got the nerve to ask her about it. Instead, I clear my throat and say, “All right. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

We walk out of the bathroom, leaving piles of golden, red, and black hair on the floor.





I spent the next two weeks waiting for Bo.

Waiting for her to walk into English class. Waiting for her to come down the sidewalk, past the church, on Sunday morning. Waiting for her to say something—anything—to me.

I was always watching for her, keeping an eye out for that golden mane of hair to come around the corner. I saw her almost every day, but we didn’t say a word to each other for two weeks.

Then, on a Friday afternoon, I’d decided to spend my lunch period in the library. Christy was out sick, so I didn’t have anyone to sit with. Besides, I had a research paper due in World History that I needed to work on. I’d taken a seat at a table near the checkout desk so that Mrs. Dalker, the librarian, could help me find books if I needed her to. For now, I’d picked a book about the black plague.

If I wanted to read any normal-size books without having a bunch of pages copied and enlarged in the front office, I had to use this giant crystal-like magnifier. It was shaped like a dome and at least two inches thick. I had to slide it along the page, leaning close to read each word I passed over. It was slow going, but I’d gotten used to it.

What I hadn’t gotten used to was the way other people acted about it.

“What the hell is that thing?”

Before I could do anything to stop it, a hand swooped down and swiped my magnifier right out from under my nose. Literally. I looked up, but I didn’t recognize the boy in front of me. He had dark hair and wore camo, but that could’ve described about half the boys in my high school.

“Can I have that back, please?”

“What the f*ck is it?”

“A magnifier,” I said. “I need it to read.”

Without warning, he grabbed my book, slid it across the table, and bent over. “Well, goddamn. You’re blinder than I thought, Agnes. Ain’t gonna lie. Always kinda thought you were faking it, but f*ck—this thing is strong.”

“Uh … yeah.” It wasn’t the first time someone admitted they’d thought I was faking. But I still hadn’t figured out how to respond to it.

“Give it back to her, Garrett.”

I whipped around, but I didn’t have to look to know. I’d been waiting—hoping—to hear that voice.

Bo Dickinson was behind me.

“Come check this out,” Garrett said. I knew who he was now. Garrett Bishop. A sophomore. He was in the Future Farmers of America with Christy and Andrew. Until now, he’d never said more than two words to me.

“Stop being a f*cking dumbass and give back the magnifier,” Bo said.

“Or what? You’ll go tattle on me? Thought you were cooler than that, Bo.”

“I ain’t gonna tattle,” Bo said. “But I will tell your girlfriend that you tried to feel me up at Andrew’s party.”

“She ain’t gonna believe you.”

“You sure about that?”

But I guess he wasn’t, because, after about a second, he shoved the book and the magnifier back over to me and started to walk away. I thought I heard him mumble, “Fucking bitch,” as he headed for the library door.

Bo, who never seemed fazed by the names people threw at her, plopped down in the chair across from mine.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem. He’s an idiot anyway.”

“Did he really try to feel you up?”

“Yeah. Spilled beer down the front of my white shirt, too. Still ain’t convinced that was an accident. Kinda a waste, though. Not like I got the boobs to rock a wet T-shirt.”

“But I thought you were … At Andrew’s party, I heard you …”

“Went down on Perry Schaffer in the hayloft?” Bo asked. “Nah. Perry just told a bunch of people that. And then your best friend went and told everybody. Speaking of, shouldn’t you be eating lunch with her right about now?”

“She’s sick. I think she’s got strep throat.”

“Too bad,” she said. “Listen. You know how you said you could help me with algebra?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well … I understand if you ain’t got time … or if you just don’t want to, but I was wondering—”

“I’d be glad to,” I said, then felt mortified by how fast the words had tumbled out of my mouth. I shouldn’t have sounded so excited to help her with math. She’d think I was some kind of freak.

But, if anything, Bo just sounded relieved. “Thanks. I just … I got a test coming up, and I really don’t wanna take this class again. So maybe I can come over this afternoon?”

“Uh … to my house?”

“Yeah. That all right?”

“Sure. Of course.”