Gimme a Call Read Online Free PDF Page A

“while you still can. I’ll call you later.”
    Freshman Me doesn’t respond, but that’s okay. She’s absorbing. As soon as it soaks in, though, she’s going to have a lot of questions.
    Which is good, because I have all the answers.

    About an hour after I get off the phone with Freshman Me, my mom knocks on my door, then opens it. “How’re you doing?” she asks, all concerned. She’s still in her work outfit—black pants and a white blouse. The top button of her pants is already unbuttoned. It’s the first thing she does when she gets home. That and eat my dad’s leftover pizza. We used to share clothes, but those days are long gone.
    I’m obviously not going to tell her about my magical cell phone. She’d just think the breakup has tossed me off the deep end.
    I open my closet and pretend to be rifling through it. “I’m kind of busy,” I tell her.
    She sighs. “Well, if you want to talk, I’ll be in the living room.” Translation: she’s going to plant herself on the couch and watch the Food Network, like always.
    About ten minutes later, the house line rings, and I hear my mom pick up. Then she yells upstairs: “Devi! Phone!”
    My heart stops. For me? My cell isn’t working…. Could it be …
    “Who is it?” I ask, standing up.
    “Maya!”
    Oh. Maya. Mom must have told her about Bryan. I’m sure Maya will try to rub it in now—she was right, my whole life shouldn’t be about Bryan, blah, blah, blah. I pick up the house extension in my room. “Hey.”
    “I just heard the news,” she says. “I just wanted to tell you that it’s probably for the best.”
    I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Maya. That’s just what I need to hear.”
    “No, I’m serious, Dev. It’s about time you’re on your own. You’re way too young to be so serious with some guy.”
    Well, no worries, Maya. In a few minutes, the whole dating-Bryan thing will never have happened. Because of my brilliant plan.
    “You need to explore your options,” Maya continues.
    “Didn’t realize you were the dating expert,” I say a little bit meanly.
    “I’m not saying I’m an expert. I’m just saying—”
    “What?”
    “Never mind. If you’re going to yell at me, can you put Mom back on the phone?”
    “I’m not yelling,” I say extra calmly.
    There’s a long pause. When did it get so weird between us, anyway?
    “So, are you packing up?” I ask, trying to change the subject. “Excited to travel?”
    “I am excited. Nervous about law school, but psyched to have some time to roam. What are you doing this summer? Now that you’re not with Bryan, want to come backpack Europe with me?”
    Am I hallucinating, or does her voice lose a little of its certainty when she asks that? She couldn’t be nervous about asking me … could she?
    Of course not. She’s probably not even serious.
    “Yeah, right,” I say. “As if Mom and Dad would let me backpack.”
    “They’d let you come with me. Maybe not for the whole summer, but for a few weeks. You could meet me in Italy. Check out the real Florence.”
    Imagine, Maya and me traveling by train across Europe, staying up late in youth hostels, making up songs and singing at the top of our lungs in foreign countries … although she’d probably end up lecturing me half the time. Flirting with too many boys, not caring enough about the museums, etc., etc. “I don’t know.” A few weeks alone with my sister? We’d probably want to strangle each other. “I was planning on …” Hanging out with Bryan. Occasional shifts at Bella. “Working.”
    “Are you saving up to try to move into a dorm?”
    “We were—” I stop in midsentence. Bryan and I talked about maybe one day getting a place off campus. “Maybe,” I say instead.
    “You would love the dorm,” she says. “I had so much fun my first year of college.”
    “Yeah, well, I don’t know how great the dorms are at Stulen.”
    “You could always transfer. You can put a little more effort into your grades