Page 31 of Hate Notes

I quickly flicked the mute button on mine, and it about killed me, but I shoved it inside my bag without looking at it.

What could he possibly have to say during our session that couldn’t wait? I was dying to know.

My eyes darted to where I stowed my phone, and he tracked the movement.

“You’re being weird,” he said.

“I am not,” I said, my tone dripping with disdain. “I’m just very private.”

He narrowed his eyes, then, as if he thought better of it, shook his head. “Whatever you say.”

“If you’re such an open book, who wereyoutalking to?”

A wide grin stretched across his face. “A chick. I think she likes me.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he’d say that.

Still, my heart beat a little faster. “Like Gabby’s some big secret,” I said, playing along, mostly because I wanted to see if I could get more information from him.

“It’s not Gabby,” he said, almost like he was insulted. “She’s not the only girl I talk to, ya know.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I mumbled, then proceeded to examine my nail polish—a bright lemon yellow, the color of optimism and happiness. Because, for once, I finally had a plan to take control of my school life and bring down the king.

“Seriously. Look,” he said, flashing me his phone, with a text to “Julie.”

I harrumphed, barely glancing at the screen. “There’s no seniors named Julie that I know of at Lakeview.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you must know, she doesn’t go to Lakeview.”

“Wow. Dating outside your usual top three, huh? However will you manage?”

“Hey, you can make fun all you want, but I don’t care because this girl seems pretty dope.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Oh, yeah? And what makes her so great?”

“She’s . . . different. Special. Not superficial like a lot of the girls here.”

I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. If he knew Julie was me, he’d probably choke on his own spit.

“You know,” he continued, grumpily, “for someone so quiet, you sure have been awfully vocal lately.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of taking everyone’s crap.”

At that, his cheeks flushed, and he glanced down at his calculus book. “Yeah, about the locker thing . . .” He trailed off.

Good. He should feel bad.

“Just so you know, I had nothing to do with that.”

I sighed and picked up my pencil, ready for this conversation to end. “Does it really matter?”

“To me it does.”

My eyes flicked back up to his and my stomach clenched. The violet-blue was so bright, it was practically blinding.

It would be so easy to get lost in them. No wonder all the girls fell at his feet.

Not me, though, I told myself.

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