After Obsession Read Online Free PDF Page B

stand there. The table separates us. He comes around to my side. “They ditched us pretty fast.”
    “Their class is all the way in the foreign-language wing. They’re always late. I’m in the opposite direction,” I explain. I blush. I pull out some gum. “Want any?”
    He seems to have a hard time deciding. “Sure.”
    He reaches for the gum. His fingers touch my fingers and all of a sudden it’s my dream again. I’m falling downward. Something is pulling me. Water is everywhere and my lungs are ready to explode.
    “Whoa … Aimee …” His hands are around my arms, jolting me back. My knees are shaking and it takes a second before I can focus on him. His face is right in front of me. I want to touch his skin with my fingers. Why? God. Do not touch him! He’s squinting hard like he’s trying to see inside my head. He can not see inside my head. I won’t let him.
    “Sorry.” I straighten up, making sure I don’t touch him. I lie, because to tell the truth would make him think I was crazy. “Little woozy there.”
    He cocks his head.
    “Woozy?” he asks. “Do you get woozy a lot?”
    He knows. He knows I’m lying.
    “I’m going to be late. Um, thanks,” I say, still resisting the whole touching urge. His long hair swings a little in front of his face.
    He drops his hands. I start fast-walking toward the cafeteria door, the one that goes toward social studies and language arts.
    “I’m going that way, too,” he says. His voice is low and slower than a Maine voice, which is really saying something. It resonates a lot. He’s wearing a black metal band shirt. I hate black shirts. I hate metal bands.
    We’re the stragglers, heading out of the cafeteria late. The sweet show-choir girl in front of us, Amber, doesn’t see us and the door starts to close in my face. Alan pushes it open for me, just reaches over my head and extends his arm, which is kind of Superman of him. I can see why the cheerleaders were moving in so fast.
    I want to tell him. I want to tell him about my dream. I want to tell him about my visions. I want to tell him everything, but that’s not who I am. I do not tell people things—ever. I am not Aimee the Freak anymore. I am Aimee who goes out with Blake and plays sports and paints.
    “Thanks,” I say, remembering my manners. “I’m sorry Court was so … so weird to you. She was kind of mean.”
    He shrugs. “She isn’t always like that?”
    “No.” We head up the hallway. I almost have to jog to keep up with him. He seems to notice and slows his pace. “She’s usually really nice, beyond nice. This whole thing with her dad … it’s kind of messed with her head a little bit.”
    He nods. He swallows hard. It’s like he’s trying to figure out something to say.
    I blurt ahead, somehow afraid of whatever it is he wants to tell me. “Blake and I have been going out forever.”
    “Oh.”
    I cringe. I can actually feel myself cringe. “Sorry. I mean … I think she feels like a third wheel sometimes, you know, so that can’t help. And … it’s just hard on her. I mean, it must be hard on you, too, moving here with no football, no actual mall or anything.”
    “I’m okay with no mall. Football? Yeah, it’s not easy,” he admits. His shoulders are wide. He ducks his head down when he talks to me, like he’s worried his voice won’t carry down so low, like I won’t be able to hear him.
    “Yeah … yeah … I bet. It’s really good of you, really brave. Most people would have a fit.”
    “I’m not most people, I guess.” He looks at me full on. The right side of his mouth turns up in a smile. The left side just stays put.
    “No, guess not.” I smile back.
    Court sends me a text while we’re in AP English, which is totally against school rules.
     
REMEMBER SEANCE?
    She knows that’s not something I want to remember.
    Everyone left my house after this seventh-grade séance. They ran to their moms’ cars and rushed off thinking I was a total freak.