Page 32 of Didn't See That Coming

“Sorry, but I’m not interested,” he says.

“I figured,” I snap. “I just—” What the hell was I going to say to him? What is there to say? It feels like my brain is hiccupping. “Do you playWarfront Heroes?” I blurt out.

“What?” The frown on his face deepens. “What’s that?”

“It’s ah—an online game?”

“Like I said,” Jeremiah says, enunciating every word like he’s talking to a toddler, “I’m not interested.” And with that, he presses a button and his window starts closing again. But before it closes all the way, he chuckles and says, “You really are Crazy Kiki.”

I stand there shaking, watching his car disappear around the corner, and no matter how many times I tell myself that it’s okay, it’s his loss, I don’t think I’ll ever believe it.

CHAPTER 9

By the time Monday arrives, I feel so defeated that I can barely summon the energy to get myself out of bed. Eleanor Roosevelt and Sarah Jessica have texted me multiple times, asking me for updates, but I can’t bear to tell them how the date went. I don’t even have it in me to snark back at Mami and Papi when they tell me to have a good day. And at school, I keep my eyes down and refuse to look at anyone.

This morning, we have a group project session, and I realize that I just don’t care anymore. I don’t. I sit there, completely silent, as Jonas tells us that the painfully voluptuous female character on his poster has to carry two humongous guns to “show that this is a feminist game.” He smirks at me and pauses, as though waiting for me to voice my disagreement. Liam is staring at me with a frown, but I simply let my gaze drop to my lap with a shrug. Jonas can do whatever the hell he wants. I’m not going to stick my neck out again over a project I don’t give a crap about.

As soon as the recess bell rings, I hurry out of the classroomand make my way to the library. No disrespect to bookworms, but I’ve never been the sort of person who spends her break time at the library. But now, only wild horses can drag me out of this hallowed, quiet, safe space. Well, wild horses and the fourth-period bell. I breathe in deeply as the doors slide open. I’m quickly learning to love that unique smell that libraries have: a cloudy scent of dusty pages and ancient ink. I go past the more popular kid lit section and bury myself deep among the forgotten shelves. The books back here are a mishmash of forgotten genres: travelogues, old textbooks, and a smattering of memoirs. None of it interests me, to be honest—I doubt I’ll ever be a serious enough reader—but their presence comfortsme.

“Hey,” someone says.

I start, my breath catching in my throat. Color rushes to my cheeks when I see Liam standing there. I clear my throat. “Hey.”

“What’re you doing here?” Liam says, taking a couple of steps toward me.

“Nothing.”

Liam’s eyebrows rise, and he looks suspiciously like he’s smiling at me. “Nothing? So you weren’t stroking that copy ofRobespierre and the French Revolutionlike it’s a purring cat?”

I definitely was stroking the spine ofRobespierre and the French Revolutionlike it’s a purring cat. I snatch my hand back and wipe it on the skirt of my uniform as though I just got caught doing something perverted. “Just—you know—wanted to feel what the cover material was.”

“Through the library’s plastic covering?”

For a moment, I wonder if I should press on. But why bother fighting the Crazy Kiki label? The more time that goes by, the more I’m starting to wonder if perhaps Jonas was right all along, if maybe Iamcrazy and I simply never knew. My shoulders sag, and I sigh. “Yeah, okay, I was stroking books. I swear I’m not doing it in a creepy way, if there is indeed a non-creepy way to stroke books. I just—I don’t know why, but it’s comforting?”

“Hey, I’m not judging. You know what I love doing?” Liam picks out a random book and opens it. He lifts it to his face and takes a deep inhale. “Ahhh.” Then he coughs. “Okay, this one’s a bit dusty.” He puts the book back on the shelf and gives me that cute, boyish grin of his. “I like smelling books.”

It dawns on me slowly, gently, like a sun peeking over the horizon, making the shadows melt away: Liam isn’t making fun of me. He’s smiling, yes, but it’s a bashful smile, not a sardonic smirk. No, I shouldn’t hope for a friend, not after the terrible, shitty way that everyone else has smacked me down. God, the memory of Jeremiah’s sneer makes me wince evennow.

“Are you okay?” Liam says.

I was all prepared to say yes, of course, and shut this conversation down, but when I open my mouth, what comes out is “Not really.” What the hell? Why did I say that? I shake my head and add, “But who’s ever really okay, right?” I punctuate it with a weak laugh that sounds desperate.

“Um, so…” Liam licks his lips. “I have a confession to make: I followed you here.”

That makes my breath hitch. I have to remind myself to keep my tone casual. “Now who’s being creepy?”

Liam raises his hands. “Okay, I know how it sounds, but I swear I’m not being creepy. I just wanted to apologize.”

My eyebrows knit together. “I don’t get it. Apologize for what?”

Liam’s breath comes out in a sigh. “God, where do I even begin? I’m sorry about how everyone’s treating you, for one thing. I knew that people here don’t like anyone who’s different, but I really didn’t think they’d be so…well, so fucking horrible to you.”

Oh god. My nose is tingling and my eyes are misting up and gahhh, lord help me if I cry in front of this boy, I swear. “It’s not your fault,” I mutter.

“It kind of is. I should’ve spoken out sooner. I mean, your first day, I tried warning you, but…”

Warning me? So that’s what he was trying to do. I dismissed it as Liam trying to threaten me.

---