Page 51 of Let's Pretend I'm Okay

“No way.” She can’t be serious? I don’t do anything or talk to anyone at school. Most people stay out of my way. She has to be misinformed. It’s almost comical how absurd it is.

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t back out.” Her face morphs into a stern glare, and she shakes her finger at me.

“That’s it?” It sounds so simple. “You’re going through all of this trouble just so I’ll hang out with some girl?”

Her chin twitches up, and she raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t mortified?”

“Who is it?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t tell you yet.”

This girl and all her games. It’s exhausting. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not time. I have a plan,” she says, crossing her arms. “Everything has to be perfect.”

I groan. “I’m not about to let you set me up with someone. I’m not interested in dating right now. Also, I’m not buying flowers or doing anything romantic. I’m not like that, and I’m not going to change just because you’re going to find my father.”

“That’s fine. I don’t want you to act any different. Just be yourself because I want the real you to be obvious.”

I wish I could read her—understand what’s behind her actions. I don’t like not knowing what she’s thinking. I don’t like being her pawn. But to be fair, she’s right. If she had told me earlier, I would’ve laughed in her face and told her to get lost.

I scour my memories of school, trying to pick out a girl that could possibly want to talk to me, but I come up blank. The only girl I think of spending more than a couple of seconds with is Margo. A gnawing thought creeps into my mind. Could it be Margo? I didn’t realize she existed until she ran out of the school in orange overalls. It doesn’t make any sense. But it would explain why she won’t tell me who it is.

Her eyes close as she rests her head on the wall. A faint smile tugs at her lips. Even while she’s sitting with me on the ground outside in the chilly air, she’s happy. I might not understand why, but now I’m convinced there’s only one possible answer to this riddle: Margo Blakely likes me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MARGO

My eyes are closed as I rest my head on the wall behind me. I’m happy my plan is falling into place. I’m good at orchestrating things to go my way, but I have to admit, this feels a little too easy.

I open my eyes.

He’s staring at me, eyes squinting slightly, but is quick to jerk his gaze away. He shifts his weight and stands. “I have to go,” he says.

Did I do something to make him uncomfortable? Why does he want to leave all of a sudden?

“Are you okay?” I ask, standing too.

He brushes off the back of his pants. “Yeah, but Laura is waiting for me.”

I check the time on my phone. I still need to run to the store and make it back to the bookshop to meet Annie by six. “I should probably get going too.”

He rocks on his heels, awkward for a moment, not knowing where to look. “Thanks,” he finally mumbles beforewalking away. He disappears around the side of the building, not waiting to hear my goodbye.

I walk down the street to one of my favorite coffee shops. It’s a little touristy, with all the gifts that line the walls, but I like it. There are mugs and journals. Calendars and soap bars. It makes it easy to find something special to buy. Something that’ll convince Annie I came downtown for a reason. I pick out a pastel pink notebook with a gold cloth strap that loops around the front, keeping it closed. I need a new notebook. My current one is starting to fall apart. The edges are tattered, and it’s survived more than one coffee spill. This one even has a checklist layout on the first page. It couldn’t be more perfect.

I purchase it along with two hot cocoas to go. Mine is cinnamon brown sugar, and Annie’s is caramel. I’d get coffee, but Mama wouldn’t like us drinking caffeine so late in the day. She already has enough to worry about.

As I walk back, my phone buzzes. Somehow managing to juggle both drinks with one arm, I pull it out. An email notification pops on the screen, and a smile stretches across my face. Annie is going to freak out when she sees what I got confirmation for.

Butterflies buzz in my stomach, and I start walking faster.

When I get to the bookshop, Annie is sitting behind the counter at the front of the store. She’s leaning back in her chair with her book cracked open in her lap.

“I brought you a present,” I say, setting the cocoa on the counter.

She smiles. “I was just thinking about getting a drink. Caramel?”

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