Little Battles by N.K. Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

were in my hair and I took in a deep breath. She gave me a quick kiss, her lips gently brushing over mine.
    It was entirely too short. I wanted more. I reached out to take her hand like she’d done with me, but she pulled away.
    “I have to go. Tom’s…” she sucked in a deep breath, “probably…” she trailed off as she opened the door.
    “C-c-can I t-t-take you t-t-to school t-tomorrow?”
    “Jason’s already planning on picking me up like usual.”
    Oh, right. Jason.
    I tried to not let it show on my face, but failed. The disappointment had to have been clear.
    “But you can pick me up on Monday, if you want.”
    Without waiting for my response or looking back at me, Sophie got out of the car and jogged the short distance to the front door.
    One thing was for sure: Sophie Young was confusing.

    It took a great deal of concentration to drive home safely. After Sophie had left the car, I allowed myself to recognize that I was half-hard. It was uncomfortable.
    I sat in the garage for fifteen minutes until it went away. Incredibly thankful that the evening hadn’t been a replay of the night after D.C., I entered the house and tried to avoid everyone. The Wallaces and Trent were still over, and I really didn’t want to socialize, but that was the usual.
    In my room, I powered up my computer and looked for Sophie’s e-mail, feeling the need to make sure I returned it tonight.
    There was a message from YoSoph, just like she said there would be. I didn’t fully understand why, but I felt like I was waiting for the carpet to be pulled out from under me. Surely, she couldn’t have actually kissed me, and there was no way she meant it - whatever “it” was. Somewhere inside, I was waiting for her to figure out that I wasn’t worth her time or energy.
    Elliott,
    Do you want to do something on Saturday?
    I’m turning in my application after school on Thursday. I’ve never played video games before. Not really my thing, I think.
    I’m not sure what your first question is really asking. When did I know that other people’s lives were different than mine? I don’t know. Probably pretty young, though. I went to this girl’s birthday party when I was in kindergarten and she lived with both her parents. They had a dog and flowers everywhere. Her mom and dad kept hugging her and telling her that they loved her and how it was her birthday, and that meant it was her day or whatever. That pretty much showed me what I had with Helen and Tom was insanely different from what other kids had with their parents.
    I’ve never told anyone about the fork. Why would anyone care about it? The hospital seemed to believe that I slipped and fell, even though the bruise was on the opposite cheek. If the hospital, filled with doctors and nurses who are supposed to be trained to figure shit out didn’t care, why would anyone else?
    I told you because you kept asking.
    I didn’t come to live with my dad sooner because he never invited me. And even if he had, who the hell knows if Helen would have let me? She might have hated me, but she needed me. She can’t cook, doesn’t understand the concept of separating colors from whites, and refuses to clean up after a cat that she decided to adopt.
    Am I happy? I’m as happy as I can be.
When you close your eyes and think about someplace that’s completely safe and comfortable, which place do you see?
What do you want most out of life?
Did your dad have OCD or something like that (in regards to the mud and the TV)? Jace’s dad has OCD and he’s pretty controlling when it comes to dirt and germs, and who can be in his house, and what they can touch.
If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, what would it be?
Do you believe in luck?
    Bonus: How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? And don’t think I’m joking. I really want to know and figured you might know that shit.
    I’ll see you in school,
    S.
    I wasted no time in composing my