So Much It Hurts Read Online Free PDF Page B

me). “Come sit with me on the couch for a bit,” Mom says after we’ve eaten. “You haven’t told me how your tests went.”
    Mom sighs as she stretches out on our corduroy couch. I sit at the other end. When she puts her feet on my lap, I can’t help feeling a little trapped.
    I know Mom counts on my daily report. I also know I could never tell her about Mick. She wouldn’t understand. She’d be like Polonius and try to talk me out of seeing him. Keeping secrets from her is a new feeling for me— one I’m not used to yet.
    Mom wiggles her toes the way she does when she’s happy. “Cal went fine,” I tell her. “And I’m pretty sure I aced World History. Most people think World War I was caused by the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, but there were other factors, like territorial disputes and the growth of nationalism across Europe.” I don’t know why I’m telling Mom all this. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid I’ll let something slip about Mick.
    Mom doesn’t seem to be suspicious. In fact, I think she’s enjoying the world history lesson. “I’ve noticed that when things go wrong,” she says. “There are usually lots of factors.”
    â€œAre you still working on that walk-in closet in the condo downtown?” I ask her.
    Mom nods. “I’ll be there for at least another week. That closet is bigger than your bedroom, Iris. The client wants a whole wall just for her shoes and boots. If you ask me, it’s ridiculous. On the other hand, her shoe-and-boot habit pays our bills.”
    Mom wants to know if I have studying to do, and if I want to do it on the couch. “I could read my magazine,” she says.
    I lift her feet off my lap. “I need to start my English essay.” Mom knows I prefer to write in my own room.
    â€œYou can read it to me when it’s done.”
    Once I’m in my room, I let myself daydream about Mick. I see us walking along Mount Royal Avenue and sitting together in the café. I think about how much I want to kiss him.
    I know I should start my essay before I get too tired. Even if I only do the first couple of paragraphs. I will not be the kind of girl who lets her schoolwork slide because of some guy.
    I flip open my laptop and create a new document. I write my name and the course code at the top of the page.
    Maybe I’ll just take a short Facebook break. I check the time at the top of the computer screen. I’m not going to spend more than five minutes on Facebook, I promise myself, then I’ll go straight back to the essay.
    I scan the latest postings. Antoine has posted a link to a squirrel circus. A squirrel circus? No wonder Antoine’s failing chemistry. Katie’s posted photos from today’s rehearsal. She must have shot them with her cell phone. There’s a photo of Tommy, adjusting a microphone. He’s wearing a Star Wars T-shirt that makes him look like he did when we were in third grade—sweet and goofy. In the background, I can just make out the tip of Mick’s fedora.
    I’m in the next photo. Mick is right—I do look better with my hair off my face. My posture’s better too. Even though I’ve only known Mick for a short time, I know it’s because of him that I’m standing straighter.
    Someone is sending me a personal message. I figure it’s Katie, asking for help with the English essay. But it isn’t her. The message is from someone named Nate Berg.
    Oh my god. How weird is this?
    Nate Berg is my father.
    I nearly call out for my mom. She’s still on the livingroom couch, lost in the latest Home Beautiful magazine. But no, Mom would freak out.
    My fingers tremble as I move the mouse to click on the message. Then I think, what if I don’t open it? I’ve managed all these years without a father, thank you very much. Why do I need one now? I could delete