The Princesses of Iowa by M. Molly Backes Read Free Book Online

write some kind of creative introduction to them, okay? And then you’re going to introduce your partner to the class, by reading your creative introduction. Does that sound good?”
    People started to stand up, shoving desks around to be closer to their friends. I scanned the jocks in the back row, looking for an odd man out, but there was an even six.
    “Hold on a moment!” Mrs. Mueller called. “Hold on one moment, everyone! I forgot one thing!” It got slightly quieter, and she announced, “I want you to count off by twelves!”
    Everyone groaned. Count off? What were we, kindergartners? I bet I wouldn’t be counting off in film appreciation. We did it dutifully, though, and of course we had to find our partner number. I was one. Across the room, I saw the Freshman holding one finger to his lips, as if shushing someone. Behind his finger, he was almost, but not quite, smiling. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I held up one finger.
One?
He shrugged and nodded.
    I reached down and grabbed my bag, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I headed over to where the Freshman was half sitting on the edge of his desk. His friend — the girl, Shanti — had paired up with my sister’s friend Jeremy Carpenter. They settled themselves on the floor near us, leaning against desks. Jeremy said something that made Shanti laugh. She swatted at him as if they were best friends.
    “Hey,” said the Freshman. “Paige, right?”
    I stared at him curiously. His voice was different than I’d assumed it would be, deeper and far more confident. It was the voice of a radio announcer, an NPR reporter maybe, but not a freshman.
    “That’s me,” I finally said.
    “Ethan. Ethan James.” He held out his hand and lowered his voice, speaking quickly. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am, my pleasure.”
    “Thanks.” I allowed my hand to be shaken, then looked around to see if anyone was looking. I’d gotten so used to being alone all summer, I still wasn’t used to being home, where everything you said, and everyone you said it to, was noticed. “Well? Should we . . . ?”
    “Yes, of course,” he said. “Step into my office.” He gestured to the desk facing his.
    “Okay, everyone!” Mrs. Mueller called. “Remember, you’re going to interview each other, and then write a creative presentation introducing that person to the class!”
    Ethan leaned over his notebook like a cub reporter. “Okay, Miss Paige. I’m ready. Spill it all.”
    His cheeks showed a hint of shadow, suggesting that if left to their own devices, they’d sport a beard worthy of a coffeehouse rocker in no time. It made him look older than he was, and for a second I saw what he might look like in five or ten years, sitting in the back of some city council meeting with a notebook perched on one knee, a serious look in his dark eyes. If you could ignore the fact that he was a freshman, he was almost cute.
    “What do you want to know?”
    “The five Ws,” he said. “I’ll start with the easy ones: Who is Paige Sheridan? What lies beneath the surface? When are you most yourself? Where do you go when you need to get away? Why are you here?”
    I shifted uncomfortably in the school-issue chair, determined to keep my face blank. “You forgot
How.
”
    “Forgive me, miss. You’re absolutely right.” He smiled slightly and looked off behind me, speaking lowly. “The dame had class, I’ll give her that. You couldn’t slip a thing past that razor-sharp mind.”
    “Has anyone ever mentioned the fact that you’re kind of strange?”
    Ethan grinned. “Not a one. In fact, it comes as quite a shock. You’ve cut me to the quick.”
    “Okay,” I said, tiring of his game and unable to resist showing off just a little. “To answer your questions: Who? You’re looking at her. What? More than you’ll ever know. When? I’m never not. Where? None of your business. And why? Because my boyfriend made me.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Made you?”
    I’d known it