For Ever by C. J. Valles Read Free Book Online Page A

hanging out at
her easel when I decide there’s no harm in just asking.
    “So, is it normal for the guy next to
me—”
    “Ever, you mean?” Ashley corrects.
    I look down and try to keep from
blushing.
    “Yeah. I mean, I was just wondering—when
people are going to start putting up missing posters. Or does he
always disappear like this?”
    When I look up, Ashley appears
thoughtful.
    “Huh, well never for this long—”
    “But he does disappear, then?”
    When she looks at me strangely, I realize how
anxious I sound. But ignoring my better judgment, I press her.
    “Is he sick or something?”
    I imagine hospital beds and medical tests,
but that doesn’t correspond well with the form in the doorway that
I can barely remember now. Each day my memory of that second
morning gets fuzzier and fuzzier, like someone’s slowly erasing a
chalkboard.
    “Yeah, right.” Ashley laughs like I’ve said
something absurd. “Ever doesn’t get sick. And nobody cares if he
misses class. Supposedly he has perfect grades. Plus, I heard that
his dad runs some international corporation. He probably has tutors
or something.”
    “Then what’s he doing here ?” I ask
automatically.
    The expression on Ashley’s face makes me
wince. Oops . That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to imply
that the Portland suburbs were the middle of nowhere.
    “Uh … oh,” she whispers dramatically.
    I frown and shrug when Ashley doesn’t say
anything else. Reluctantly, I tune into her thoughts.
    Wren, please shut up. Like right
now .
    “What’s wrong?”
    My heart slams in my chest, and I feel sick. Please no . Please don’t let him be standing in the door
listening to my interrogation. I glance over my shoulder toward the
front of the room, trying to appear casual. Then I breathe out.
    The doorway is empty.
    But that’s when I notice it—that the
classroom is almost full, but strangely quiet apart from the
classical music. I turn slowly toward my easel. The seat to the
left of mine, which had remained vacant since my second day at
Springview High School, isn’t empty any more.

 
     
3:
Perfect
     
     
    The floor is tilting beneath me, like a black
hole of embarrassment is about to swallow me. With all my effort
trained on not tripping or doing something stupid, I manage to
cross the room. When I get to my seat, I keep my eyes on the front
of the classroom.
    All I can hope for now is that the person
sitting to my left didn’t hear my borderline obsessive conversation
with Ashley—about him, someone I’ve never met.
    Digging my fingers into my jeans, I bite my
lip. During the past few weeks I had gotten too comfortable with
the empty space next to me. Now, with someone suddenly there, my
eyes keep drifting like they’ve come unmoored. Even worse, on top
of my embarrassment, I am terrified , insanely and
irrationally terrified, that looking at my newly returned classmate
is somehow going to trigger another episode of pure craziness. It
doesn’t make any sense, but my reptilian brain doesn’t agree with
my prefrontal cortex.
    Some primordial part of me keeps screaming
that I’m in trouble. Bad trouble. The voice in my head won’t shut
up.
    My ears are ringing, and when I blink, my
eyes water from the effort of sitting so still. Finally Mr. Gideon
returns with a refilled coffee mug and an enormous art history
book. With something else to focus my attention on, I exhale. Mr.
Gideon starts talking, and it takes about two minutes for the
rational side of my brain to reboot itself. What was I thinking?
Everything is fine. The classroom didn’t erupt into flames; I
didn’t freak out. Relaxing my grip on my pen, I take a deep breath
and look to the left out of the corner of my eye.
    Oh. Wow .
    The profile of the boy next to me is—not even
beautiful, really. More like perfect. And not in that androgynous
boy-band like he’s totally hot way, either. His features are
flawless. I can tell that much, even though his face is mostly
obscured by