Leslie's Journal by Allan Stratton Read Free Book Online Page B

could’ve done it. I just stared at the floor and shrugged. Who’d done it was the last thing on my mind. All I was thinking about was how I was going to explain to all the people I’d told that I wasn’t on the team after all. That I was a sucker, a loser, a reject.
    When I see the girls watching me read the card, these awful feelings come back. And I think, It’s a set-up! They want to see me run to the bleachers so they can laugh at me!
    But then Katie says, “Is it from him?” and my fears disappear. Katie would never hurt me like that. Here I was about to cry, and now all I want to do is laugh, because she’s acting as excited as a new puppy meeting houseguests. I mean, I want to tell her not to wet the floor. Instead, I smile mysteriously and say, “Maybe.” That gets the girls even more giddy. Except for Ashley, who looks like she just sucked a bug.
    “What’s he say?” Katie pants.
    “Who cares?” snaps Ashley. “We have to hurry or we’ll be late for choir practice.”
    Katie gives me one of her patented hand flaps and runs down the hall after Ms. A-Hole. At the corner she turns and calls back, “Phone me? Okay?”
    “Whatever,” I say, as if I have much more important things to do. Then I wink at the other girls, fan myself with my card and waltz down the corridor.
    From the door leading to the track, I see him lounging on top of the bleachers. School’s been out for a while now, but he’s waited. It’s like he knew I’d come.
    There’s no football practice today. Jason and I are alone except for one or two guys running laps. I walk across the field, climb halfway up the bleachers and stop. He must have heard me clunking on the boards but he keeps his eyes closed like he did the first day we met. Laid out in the sun, he looks sweet and innocent.
    I’m scared. Not of him , exactly. It’s just that, well, since Saturday I’ve been desperate to talk to him, but now that he’s here I don’t know what to say. So all I say is, “So.”
    He opens his eyes and flashes this slow easy smile. “What a perfect day.”
    I force myself not to look away. “I got your card.”
    “Good.” There’s a pause. He sits up, still smiling.
    “Where’ve you been?”
    “Out of town with my folks. They took me to the cottage. Got your messages. Meant to call, e-mail. Sorry.”
    “That’s okay.” I stare at my feet.
    He pats the bench beside him. “Come on up.”
    I stay where I am. “If you wanted to talk to me, how come you didn’t meet me at my locker?”
    He looks surprised. “Isn’t it nicer to have some privacy? I mean, those friends of yours ...” He shakes his head like we’ve escaped from a bunch of baby sisters.
    “Maybe it’s nicer,” I hesitate. Then I blurt out, “Or maybe you were scared I’d start yelling in front of them.”
    “Yelling?” He laughs. “What about?”
    “You know.” I hear my voice tremble so I shut up. I stare at his nose like I do with Mr. Manley. Only he doesn’t have any nose hairs. He looks perfect. I feel confused.
    Jason doesn’t blink. His eyebrows scrunch up like he’s puzzled, and I wonder—can he really not remember? Or have I made a mistake? Did nothing happen after all?
    “Jason ...” I say in a voice so small I’m hardly breathing, “... did we?”
    For a split second time stops, and for some bizarre reason I have a flash of driving with Dad when this bird swooped in front of the car and everything went into slow motion and I was praying the bird would escape and then thump . I hear Jason say, “Yeah.” But the way he says it, it sounds like “So what?”
    And I’m just standing there like a dummy with tears sliding off my face.
    “Hey,” Jason says. “Why the tears? It’s not like you were a virgin or anything.” He starts coming down like he wants to comfort me.
    “Stay away.” I wave my hands.
    “But I don’t get it,” he says. “It was your idea.”
    Am I hearing this?
    “I thought we should wait,” he says.