Pieces of Camden (Hole-Hearted #1) by Yessi Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

before looking back at the floor.
    “He stabbed my thigh. I was using a cutting knife to butter my toast, and he got pissed because I should’ve been using a butter knife. I didn’t get a chance to clean the cut, but I covered it up so I could come to school.”
    “Nerd,” I joke.
    He laughs. “If I hadn’t come to school, I’d have had to wait until tonight to see you. I’d have probably bled to death, waiting for you.”
    “Don’t say that,” I whisper, my heart dropping at his stupid joke. “Besides, I was going to leave after class to check on you.”
    “Don’t ever do that.” He brings his eyes back to me. “Don’t skip school or do anything that could ruin your life because of me.”
    I roll my eyes at him, but my mom’s words about his intensity creep into my mind, and I shudder.
    “Whatever, Cam. Just drop your pants so I can clean your wound.”
    My cheeks flush at the same time that Camden’s cheeks turn a crimson red and we look away from each other as he brings his pants down to his ankles. I take the paper towels from the dispenser and soak them with warm water and soap. We both inhale sharply as I remove his bandage and press the paper towel to his open wound.
    It’s bad. As in he should probably go to the hospital.
    “We have to tell someone, Cam,” I say, already knowing his response.
    “No.” He shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. “I told you, they’ll take me away. I can live with this. But living without you…” The desperation in his voice cuts me, and I bleed right along with him.
    “You can move in with us.”
    He laughs, the sound chilling me.
    “Cam, my parents—”
    “Stop!” he shouts, making me jump. “We’ve talked about this too many times. Don’t you ever get tired? I told you, no. I’m staying with my parents, and you’re keeping your mouth shut.”
    Frustrated, I turn away from him to get more paper towels, and I bat my eyes several times to keep the tears away. I bend down, making it easier for me to have access to his cut and press the towels against his thigh. After a hesitant glance in his direction, I bandage it up again. I’m about to suggest we go to the hospital when our PE coach walks in and starts yelling at us. She advances toward us and separates us, giving Camden just enough time to pull up his pants before she can see his stab wound.

    “What were you thinking?” My mom’s disappointment is reflected in my dad’s eyes.
    “I wasn’t,” I reply, my stomach dropping as a blush creeps up my neck.
    Unable to tell anyone what really happened, I let my parents think the worst. My PE coach caught me between Camden’s legs while he stood there with his pants down. My parents think what everyone else thought when the rumors ran wild throughout the school.
    Two weeks of suspension isn’t that bad though. Neither is being grounded for three months. What’s bad is that my parents no longer trust Camden or me, which means I can’t see him anymore—except at night when he climbs through my window and into my room.
    I crawl into bed with the memory of Camden and I being ushered into the principal’s office while the girls in the school laughed and called me names, and the boys cheered and congratulated Camden with slaps on his back. Thankfully, our coach had a firm grip on his shoulder, so he couldn’t attack any of those boys. I should’ve let Camden hold my hand when he went to grab it, but shame washed over me in that moment, and I moved away.
    It was the only time I’d ever moved away from him, and I know it’s changed us forever. He wouldn’t even look at me after that.
    I lie in bed, awake, until two a.m., when I realize Camden’s not coming. He’s never not come, no matter what.
    Fear grips me, threatening to choke the breath out of my lungs, and I finally run into my parents’ room and wake them. Through tear-stained cheeks, I tell them everything.
    I share Camden’s story. Our story.
    Neither of my parents says anything, but