The Distance from A to Z by Natalie Blitt Read Free Book Online Page A

need my space. I love hanging out with you, but meeting a whole bunch of people is way more than I can handle at this point. I’m still working up to being able to attend the Friday night poetry reading at my prof’s house. I’m worried if I go too fast . . .”
    I nod because it makes sense. I remember Si telling me that it’s always a mistake for young pitchers to get drafted out of high school, that so many rush it because they want the prize now. But then they wind up far more likely to get hurt; he sees them as his PT patients over and over. If only they’dgone to college instead, waited for their body to strengthen, worked on their technique, they’d have a much better shot.
    â€œWell, I can go with you to your poetry reading on Friday night if you want . . .”
    Soulful poets? Sign me up.
    Alice smiles. “I might just take you up on that.”

FIVE
    ZEKE IS WAITING OUTSIDE THE oak doors of the cafeteria building at seven forty-five, as promised. His fingers are moving furiously across his phone screen and he doesn’t even notice I’m there.
    â€œEs-tu prêt?” I think I’m asking him if he’s ready but I’m not actually sure.
    â€œUn moment.” He hasn’t looked up but at least he’s turned to face me.
    I get out a notebook to begin charting out our word list. How many words do we need in order to prove we spoke to each other? Maybe if we get a really good list going, we can fudge the time commitment.
    â€œPardon,” he mutters, putting his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. Judging from the worn fabric of the pocket that hugs the phone tightly, I’m guessing it’s his usual spot. Not that I’m checking him out.
    â€œSo what do you want to do?” I ask. He’s not the Zeke of this morning’s class. Not even the angry Zeke I saw before. He’s different. I’m not sure how it’s possible to miss someone you only just met. Or the person you thought they were.
    He shrugs. “Whatever you want.”
    I don’t even know this guy. This is a disaster, and I need to do well in this course. If he isn’t going to talk, I’ll have to find a new partner. “Listen, you’re going to have to talk to me if we want to pass this class. And you might not care at all about it, but I do. I need this class, and I need this grade. So if you aren’t in, I’ll ask Marianne if I can switch partners.”
    â€œPourquoi est-ce que tu crois que je ne suis pas intéressé?” Why do you think I’m not interested?
    But while I understand his words in French, all I really hear is the smirk, the snide roll in his speech.
    â€œWhy are you even in this class? Did someone say it would be an easy A or something?”
    Can you even say un A facile ?I don’t even have time to wonder because he stops walking abruptly, a deep scowl now on his face.
    â€œWhat’s your problem?”
    I can tell I went too far but I can’t back down.
    â€œThis class is important to me. Really important. And if you’re here just to hang out and have a good time, I want a different partner. I want someone who’s serious about this.”
    â€œHave I given you any indication that I’m not serious?”
    I pause, searching for something that isn’t totally insulting. But scanning him from head to toe, all I see is the baseball cap, Tigers jersey, gym shorts, and athletic shoes that are clearly top of the line. All together it says all I care about is sports .
    â€œSo you’re saying that because I look like a jock, I must not be serious about French?”
    The word jock sticks out like a sore thumb in his perfect rapid French and it makes me laugh. Maybe because he pronounced it like a French word: joque . The more I think about it, the harder I laugh. And maybe snort. A few times.
    â€œIs joque even a word?” I ask, being sure to pronounce it just as he did.
    He holds