Between the Notes by Sharon Huss Roat Read Free Book Online Page A

It might take a few days.”
    Willow sighed. “Don’t joke like that.”
    Wynn yanked me into a hug, then quickly pulled away. “Ew. You’re all sweaty.”
    “I, uh . . . had to run for the bus.”
    They glanced sideways at each other. Willow put her fingertips on my sleeve. “Text us as soon as you get your phone, ’kay?”
    “Sure.”
    Wynn air-kissed my cheeks, both sides as she had been doing ever since her family went to Europe last summer. Then they were gone.
    An irrational sense of relief flooded over me, like I’d successfully tiptoed through a minefield. My hand smoothed nervously over my unruly curls, which seemed to have picked up even more altitude than usual. I quickly opened my locker, got the books I needed for first period, and hurried to the bathroom. Windswept was not exactly a good look for me. Wetting my hands, I combed through my hair, then dried my damp arms with a paper towel.
    My exterior appeared almost the same as usual, but it didn’t feel that way on the inside. In homeroom, I stood for the pledge and pretended to listen to announcements, certain everyone was staring at me. Was it on my face in some way?
    I caught up with Reesa on the way to first-period AP English. “Do I look different to you?”
    “What do you mean?” She dabbed some gloss on her lips.
    “I don’t know.” I dropped to a whisper. “Poor?”
    Her gaze swept from my head to my toes and back up again. “Nope. Same as always, you skinny bitch.”
    I smiled. “Thanks, Rees.” Reesa was always complaining about her curves, and I was always complaining about my lack thereof. The only thing I had that wasn’t straight was my hair, and Reesa was the opposite.
    We walked into AP English and took our seats as the bell rang. Mr. Eli wrote The Canterbury Tales on the board and underlined it three times. There were a few sputters of nervous laughter. Our assignment had been to memorize the opening part of the prelude, as it was originally written in Middle English, and recite it in front of the entire class.
    I sat as still as possible and kept my eyes on the floor. Mr. Eli strolled the aisles between our desks until everyone was settled and quiet. “Now, don’t strain yourselves volunteering all at once,” he said.
    The door opened and I said a silent thanks for the disruption, then looked up. It was the guy from the hedge this morning. He had this adorable way of tipping his chin down and looking out the top of his eyes, through his hair. He was doing it to Mr. Eli right now.
    “Can I help you?” Our teacher took a step toward him.
    Sitting next to me, Reesa sucked a breath through her teeth. “Be stillith myith heart.”
    The boy handed Mr. Eli a paper. “I’m new,” he said. “Is this AP English?”
    Mr. Eli nodded. “Yes, uh . . .” He looked at the paper. “James Wickerton?”
    James nodded. Mr. Eli said, “Welcome, James.” Then he turned to the class and said, “This is James. Find him a seat.”
    There was an empty desk on the other side of Reesa’s. She nearly dislocated her shoulder trying to alert James to its availability. He smiled at her and started walking toward the desk, his eyes sweeping the room. I dropped my forehead to my hand and looked down at my notebook in a classic don’t-call-on-me-I-have-a-terrible-headache stance.
    Mr. Eli picked up where he’d left off. “ The Canterbury Tales. The first eighteen lines. Who’s ready? Who hath learned thy Middle English?”
    I peeked out over my hand to observe that I was not alone in dreading this assignment. While my stage fright only reached paralytic proportions when I was standing on an actual stage or otherwise attempting to sing for an audience, I still got very nervous for anything remotely performance related. In classes, going to the board definitely made my palms sweat. I was usually fine answering questions, as long as I could remain seated safely at my desk. It was best if I didn’t have to sit there anticipating my turn and