The Girl with the Wrong Name Read Online Free PDF Page B

someone you’re too embarrassed to love.”
    She groaned. “It’s not a love letter, it’s a Declaration of—”
    “Romantic Intent,” I finished. “I know, Lou. Would now be a good time to remind you you’ve never actually given one of these Declarations to anyof the boys we’ve written them for?”
    “Well, this time I will. I have to. It’s my last chance.”
    “Oh, right, because ‘all bets are off.’”
    Lou’s eyes narrowed. “What bets? Who’s betting?”
    “I am just stating for the record that I absolutely refuse to play any part in this disgusting A.B.O. senior year crossbreeding. It’s unnatural.”
    “A.B. what ? Can you just slow down? I feel like we’re not communicating.”
    “I know who it is,” I declared.
    “You do?”
    “Jesus, I was atthe Trout this afternoon, remember? I saw the whole thing.”
    Her face flushed. She giggled. “Oh, God, was I thatobvious?”
    “‘Obvious’ doesn’t really do it justice. I’d call it ‘stripper-pole obvious.’”
    I could see the flush of pink climbing up her cheeks. “So you hate me now.”
    “Oh, please. It’s more a mix of shock and dismay, and maybe the first few seeds of disrespect.” I nodded toward the desk. “Funnel cake?” I offered, pointing toward the last stale piece from last night’s bender.
    “No, thanks,” she said, crinkling her nose.
    “Sorry, I don’t have any low-fat scones or dried kale chips.”
    She tossed the notebook to the floor. “Thee, why are you being like this?”
    “Like what? I thought you loved my dry wit. I thought I gave the Sherman News its bite.”
    She was looking at me seriously now. “You have a bite, but you’re not mean. Who areyou today?”
    “Who am I ?Are you kidding me right now? Who are you ?It’s like you showed up at school a completely different person.”
    “No, I have a different outfit, and I let my hair down. I’m being serious. Where were you this morning? Whatever happened to you this morning, you’re different.”
    “Oh, you think it was this morning? You don’t think something might have happened to me, say, two and a half monthsago that might have changed me a little bit? Maybe just a little bit ?”
    Lou blinked. Her lips trembled. I couldn’t believe those words had come from my mouth. I never brought up The Night in Question anymore. At least, not consciously or out loud.
    My outburst left a cloud of black silence between us. The kind of silence that has physical mass and weight. Lou stood as if someone else had taken over, as if an invisible hand had yanked on her marionette strings.
    “I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t. I think I should just go. I’ll go.”
    “No.” I jumped out of bed and grabbed her hand before she got to the door. “That was totally my fault,” I said. “I don’t know why I said that, I really don’t. Stay. I’ll help you with the letter. I’ll totally help you. I mean, duh, of courseI’ll help you, girl.”
    “You don’t have to.”
    “I want to,” I lied. “I really want to.”
    Three minutes later, I tore a page from my notebook and handed it to Lou. She’d stayed glued to her phone as I’d scrawled out the first paragraph—reading the latest post from The A.V. Club , I prayed, and not some depraved sext from Mike.
     
    A Declaration of Romantic Intent
    Dear M,
    I really, really, really, really want to have vigorous sexual intercourse with you, preferably in the back of a smelly taxi, or perhaps in one of those pee-stained bathroom stalls in the boys’ locker room (or the girls’ locker room, if you think that is hotter. I’m cool either way).
      
    “Theo,come on,” Lou grumbled, trying not to laugh, and failing. “I thought you were going to help.”
    “What? I’m helping. Good writing is all about conservation of words. Actually, you’re right; we don’t need that many reallys .”
    She shoved her phone into her pocket.