The Fragile Ordinary(30)

There were thoughts in that book that no one knew I had. No one. My thoughts. My own. And this boy who was practically a stranger...

I shuddered, fighting the desire to burst into tears. Instead I curled my fingers tight around the book and reached for my bag. Without looking at Tobias, I shuffled the notebook into my bag out of sight, as if the action would erase the book from his memory.

Maybe he hadn’t read it...

I winced at the naive wishful thinking.

Of course he’d read it.

Oh God, what if Stevie had read it, too? They shared a room, after all!

“I—”

“Act Three Scene One, today.” Mr. Stone strode into the room, cutting off whatever Tobias was going to say to me.

My cheeks felt like they were on fire and as I moved to pull Hamlet closer to me, my fingers trembled. I thought I heard Tobias release an aggravated sigh. In an effort to block out everything about him, I hunched around my copy of the play and thanked my decision to leave my hair down today. It acted as a curtain, falling across my face, hiding my burning cheeks from him and everyone else.

For the rest of class, I was lost in manic thoughts and fears. If Tobias had shown my poetry to Stevie Macdonald and his group of idiots, my life was over. They’d never let me live it down. Worse—what if they’d taken photos of the pages? What if I walked into school tomorrow to find snapshots of my poems plastered all over the walls?

Or even worse, all over the internet without the shield of anonymity my words were currently protected by?

My stomach roiled.

My knee bounced under the desk in agitation as I imagined my life at Blair Lochrie if my friends and classmates ever got their hands on those poems. They’d decimate me. Some were so personal.

I flinched, remembering I’d written a poem about my first kiss the other week. No. No bloody way! I’d written it down to get it out of my head, like I did most of my worries or concerns. It was supposed to be funny, to cheer me up, but in the wrong hands it was embarrassing, and it would be cruel if Ethan ever got word of it. The fact that Tobias might know I’d compared my first kiss to a slug mistaking my tongue for a mate was beyond mortifying.

And that was the least of what I’d written.

I didn’t hear a word in class.

Not a word.

When the bell rang I just grabbed up my books and bag and darted out of the room before anyone could speak. As I hurried along the corridor, I tried to shove my books into my backpack but the action stupidly slowed me down.

“Comet, wait!”

I was going to throw up.

His hand clamped down on my shoulder, and suddenly Tobias was right in front of me in an increasingly crowded corridor. I stared up at him in reproach, waiting for him to bring the guillotine down on life as I knew it.

Instead he stared at me, searching my face for what felt like forever.

Then he did something that surprised the hell out of me. “I, uh...” He scrubbed a hand over his hair and glanced at his feet. “I really liked your poems.”

I was a mass of conflicted emotions in that moment, but overruling them all were confusion and distrust. “What?”

His gaze flew to my face again. “I know I shouldn’t have read them... I’m a nosy asshole... But they were really good.”

I couldn’t detect an ounce of remorse in his tone, despite his words. Was he making fun of me? Was this all a big joke to him?

The anger I’d been feeling burned into bitterness, melting the shyness I usually felt around boys into ash. “Did you show them to anyone?”

Tobias flinched—at my accusing tone or just at the question, I couldn’t be certain. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Really? And how the hell was I supposed to know what King would or wouldn’t do to get a laugh out of his friends? As far as I knew, he didn’t take anything in life seriously, and I was just supposed to believe that he’d found the poetry of a boy-shy, introverted bookworm “good” and that he had no intention of turning me into an afterschool special?

“Comet, are you okay?” Suddenly Vicki and Steph were at my side, Vicki looking from me to Tobias with suspicion. Whatever she saw in my face made her cross her arms and glare at the American.

I tensed, silently begging him not to say a word.

“I was just asking Comet a question about our presentation.” He shrugged, and my tension eased. As if he knew, he smirked at me. “See you later.”

I watched him walk away, hope and fear now fighting with one another equally. Was he telling the truth about liking my poems? Had he really kept my notebook to himself and not shown it to Stevie? Only time would tell, and until then I’d have to walk around with giant butterflies in my stomach, waiting for that guillotine to fall or not fall.

“What was that all about?” Vicki said. “You looked angry at him.”

“No.” I shook my head. “He was just asking when we were meeting up to finish the presentation. I said we’d already discussed it and he should probably start concentrating if we want to pass our talking outcome.”

“You did not!” Steph looked wide-eyed at the thought. “Comet, you’re going to blow your chance with him.”

I stared at her like she’d lost the plot. “Since when did I have a chance with him? Since when did we want me to have a chance with him?”

“Since you still have virgin lips.”