“It was a stupid party,” he says. “I wish you’d forget about it.”
“I wish I would, too,” I say. “But I never forget making a fool of myself. I’ve got a whole shitload of that kind of stuff in my head. So—”
I look at him, finally, and I can’t help smiling because he looks as awkward and desperate as I feel. Either one of us could bolt any second, I think. Go back into hiding about how we feel about each other. But I don’t want to bolt. I want—well, I want whatever not bolting from Gabe Parker might turn out to be.
“So you might as well get used to it,” I finish. “And everything else about me, for that matter. It won’t be easy, you know. I’m not exactly normal.”
“So?” He puts his arm around me. “When do we start?”
We head down the trail in companionable silence as night falls, Gabe walking his bike beside me, Harp nipping at his heels—childhood, the life I’ve led till this moment, trailing behind me like a dream. Then suddenly, Gabe lets his bike drop to the side of the path, pulls me into his arms. He kisses me! And I don’t think twice. I kiss him back, not one bit afraid.
About the Author
Barbara Shoup was the writer-in-residence at the Broad Ripple High School Center for the Humanities and the Performing Arts (Indianapolis) for almost twenty years. She has mentored young writers and makes many visits to schools annually. She has been the recipient of numerous awards and grants, including a Master Artist Fellowship from the Indiana Arts Commission and the PEN/Phyllis Naylor Working Writers Fellowship. She is also an assistant editor for OV Books.
Shoup’s novel Wish You Were Here was named an ALA Best Book for Young Adults. Visit her online at www.barbarashoup.com.
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