Page 43 of Bookworm

"Thank you so much," I said in reliefand took the paper gratefully. "I owe you one."

"No, you don't," she said, a Cheshire cat grin appearing on her lips. "I was young once too, you know. I understand what it's like to have a crush."

"It's not like that," I stuttered.

She nodded in understanding but ruined it with a wink. "Sure, it's not."

I got out of that office as quickly as I could.

Having Bo's schedule made it that much easier to determine where he'd be and therefore see what he might need.He was pretty self-sufficient. But hiswrist was obviously bothering him. AsBo walked between classes, there weren't many instances, but I did notice him fumble his books a time or two. I underlined my firstlist item for emphasis.

Bo also struggled to open his locker with his left hand.

It took him five tries.

He scowled menacingly at the lock—though that was basically his default expression.

At lunch, he didn't seem to have any problems. No bobbles, and he was able to easily eat everything in his sack-o-lunch. This included mostly vegetables and fruit: carrots, broccoli, celery, a block of cheese, an apple, and two sandwiches filled with some kind of meat. No dessert at all. Hmmm, maybe he'd been serious about the no sweets thing.

I couldn't imagine life without chocolate.

It just did not compute.

So, I chose to believe that maybe Bo had forgotten his dessert at home or was saving it for later.

I fully intended on offering him my notes for psychology.There was really nothing I could do about the classes we didn't have together. But I hoped he'd be able to get notes from someone else or record the lessons on his phone.

After school, Bo had soccer practice. I'd never actuallygone to a game, never saw him play in person. And I didn't get to that day either. When Iarrived at the field, I noticed him sitting on the bench, looking crankier than hehad all day.A few other students sat in the bleachers watching practice, so I took a seatand made myself comfortable.My ball cap and large sunglasses were in place.I was the slightest bit nervous that Bo might look back and see me.

But his eyes were glued to the action on the field.

Just in case, I pulled out a book, pretending to be into it.

My gaze kept getting drawn back to Bo.

His face, though cranky, held something else I hadn't noticed at first. A wistfulness, like he wanted to be out there more than anything.

"It's so sad," HeatherPatel said. "The team is nothing without Bo."

Darren Minternodded. "Yeah, Chariot's going to have a heck of time if he doesn't play."

"I heard he's only sitting out one practice," Antonio Mulroney put in. "Because of the concussion and all."

I winced.

"He should be good to go on game day."

Heather shook her head. "It'sa good thing Bo's dad is headcoach. Hewouldn't make him sit out, knowing how much this means to him."

"I've heard Coach Stryker can be stubborn," Antonio said.

"He'll let Bo play," Darren replied. "He has to."

"I hope so." Heather sighed. "Bo looks pissed, more so than usual."

"Nah, he always looks like that."

The three of them chuckled, and I turned back to Bo.

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