The Tension of Opposites by Kristina McBride Read Free Book Online Page A

negative calories, eat nothing but the little green stalks. (Think Jessie Richards, the skinny-minny captain of the varsity cheerleading squad.)
    I didn’t think I was perfect or anything. Though I secretly loved the way my sandy-blonde hair dried in soft waves that spilled down my back, and the way my eyes matched my favorite aqua tank top, I had a little pooch in my middle that needed some attention. And when I looked down, I had this disturbing hint of a double chin. But unlike some girls, when I was hungry, I ate. Unless I was at school.
    On the first day of eighth grade, I decided I wouldn’t go to the cafeteria without Noelle at my side. Since then, I had discovered several methods of gobbling a quick snack in hiding, my favorite being the duck-behind-a-book-in-the-library technique. I was proud that I had remained true to my friend; since her disappearance, I had not once eaten in the lunchroom. The root of this issue was superstition; I somehow felt that if I gave in and giggled over some stupid piece of gossip, the slight chance of Noelle’s return would disappear.
    My second reason for avoiding the cafeteria was that I didn’t have anyone to sit with. I had only one person I could call a friend, Darcy, but she was two years ahead of me, and our friendship was mostly about photography. I didn’t want any other friends. I’d pushed all my old friends away after Noelle went missing, ignoring them so blatantly, they had eventually stopped calling. All the stuff friends do with one another … that was sacred. It belonged to Noelle. Besides, I couldn’t sit around laughing with a bunch of people whose only concern was what to wear to Friday night’s football game when I was pretty sure Noelle would never laugh again.
    I had isolated myself as much as possible. Except in photography class, where Darcy wouldn’t leave me alone, even if I tried to set her on fire.
    I liked things the way they were. Comfortable. Predictable. Safe.
    Until the second week of my sophomore year. Noelle was home by then, which caused the structure of my avoid-the-cafeteria argument to crumble. It was a Tuesday, the day the carefully constructed bubble that surrounded me popped.
    Max, who knew nothing of my years as a loner, caught me in the hall on the sixth day of school, hooking his arm into mine and swinging me around in the bustling crowd.
    â€œI’m sick of eating alone,” he’d said. “Care to join?”
    â€œI don’t really do the caf,” I answered, trying to slip my arm out of his, my cheeks burning at the soft heat of his skin brushing against mine.
    â€œI noticed,” he said, tucking my arm tight against his body. (Dear Lord, his side was incredibly hard. Was it possible to actually feel the muscles rippling under his thin T-shirt?)
    As we weaved our way through the blur of people clutching textbooks to their chests, my brain whirred with questions I could never voice. Why, with his good looks and easy personality, didn’t Max have ten friends already? And why, of all people, had he chosen to eat with me ?
    â€œSeriously,” I said as we approached the gaping entrance to the cafeteria, “this isn’t my scene. All the gossiping and plan making, it goes against my nature.”
    â€œThat,” he said with a grin, “is exactly why I like you.” And then he pulled me through the double doors and into the chest-vibrating, high-impact noise of four hundred shouting students.
    As he led me through a maze of round tables, my attention snagged, the same question looping through my head over and over again. Helikesmehelikesmehelikesme?
    It must have been the way that question echoed through my mind, making me feel light-headed and slightly disoriented. Or it could have been the pressure of all that noise and energy. But when Max yanked out a chair and pushed my shoulders until I sat down, I didn’t even attempt to stand up and walk away. The