Sweetest Taboo by Eva Márquez Read Free Book Online

cheese empanadas at dinner, but they hadn’t settled well, and I felt like I was going to throw up. The lingering smell of food in the house wasn’t helping, and the constant threat of my father walking into my room and lecturing me had me on edge.
    I looked up at my poster of Bill Clinton, and prayed silently for help.
    This was the most important letter I had ever written, and I wanted it to be exactly right. It had to explain my feelings without coming off as pushy or immature. It had to show the depth of my emotion without being sappy. Most importantly, it had to sound as though it came from someone serious – I knew enough about Mr. Stevens to know that he would never engage with me if I were immature. I finally found a flow that I liked, and settled – with the assistance of my heavy, hardcover volume of Webster’s Dictionary – on language that sounded sophisticated and smart. By the time I folded the letter and put it into an envelope, my hand had cramped up and I was overcome with mental exhaustion. It was done, though, and I knew that I was doing the right thing. I had told him exactly how I felt, and had been completely honest. As of tomorrow, for better or worse, Mr. Stevens would know exactly what was in my heart.
    ***
    In the morning, I met Liz at our shared locker as usual, and gave her a tired grin. Posters throughout the hall advertised the Junior/Senior Prom, which was coming up in June. The posters were promotional and were intended to encourage us to go, but really just taunted those of us who didn’t have dates, I thought.
    “Not like I want to go anyhow,” I told Liz, pointing to the nearest ruined poster. The spring rains had ruined the paper and caused the ink to run. “Corny, overpriced dance. Knowing this school, it will be in the gym rather than any place interesting.”
    Liz threw me a confused glance, and frowned. “What’s with you this morning?” she asked quietly. “I thought you loved that kind of social thing. An excuse to get dressed up, and all that.” She held my eyes, waiting for an answer, and I shrugged.
    “I’m tired, and worried,” I admitted. “I wrote that letter, and I’m not sure it was the right thing to do. I didn’t sleep well.”
    She grinned and pinched my arm. “You worry too much.” She paused and looked past my shoulder and smiled. “Besides, I don’t think you have much to worry about. Looks like someone’s waiting for you.”
    I turned at her words and scanned the walkway behind me. Mr. Stevens was there, standing casually in his classroom doorway at the other end of the hallway. He was looking directly at us, though he seemed to be just gazing into space. I couldn’t help but be jealous of his cool appeal. He seemed so comfortable in his skin, so confident. I didn’t think that anything could rattle him, and I wondered if he’d ever doubted anything in his entire life. I looked openly at him, assuming that he wasn’t actually looking back at me, and gasped when his gaze sharpened on my face. He winked, then grinned and turned away, and I laughed aloud. I walked forward slowly, leaving Liz behind. As I got closer, I realized that his eyes weren’t as carefree and confident as I had thought. There was a nervousness to him that I’d never seen before, as though he was waiting for bad news.
    “Good morning, Isabel,” he said as I halted in front of him. “How are you?”
    I gave him a nervous smile in response. “I’m fine, though my hand is a bit cramped from so much writing. And I didn’t get much sleep.”
    Those words seemed to put a smile on his face. He stepped closer and handed me a thick Algebra book. I stared down at it, nervous and baffled, and gave him a questioning look.
    Mr. Stevens reached out, opened the heavy book, and whispered, “Just drop the letter in the book so that I can walk away with it.”
    “Ah,” I breathed, understanding. I slipped the letter between the pages and handed the book back to