Truly, Madly, Deadly Read Online Free PDF Page B

waft of carnation-scented air, her minions flanking her, arms laden with blooms.
    “Mr. Hanson, members of the junior class. As you know, our flower-gram program not only raises school and personal spirit—”
    “I think I feel my lunch being raised,” someone muttered.
    Maggie shot daggers. “As I was saying, these flower-grams raise spirit and cash for our junior prom. So, if you’re one of the few who don’t receive a flower today, there are still three more days to get yours.” Maggie donned a dazzling, pageant-worthy grin and narrowed her eyes at Sawyer. “Or consider sending one to yourself. No one but you and I will know, and it’s for a good cause.”
    Sawyer rolled her eyes and went back to the verb to play .
    “Now, without further ado, your flower-grams.”
    Maggie cleared her throat and started reading off names as her minions zigzagged through the classroom, depositing single stems, sentiment cards tied with ribbons and fluttering like leaves.
    Maggie paused, seeming to choke on the next name. “Sawyer Dodd.” She said it with a curled lip, no attempt to mask the disdain in her voice. “Two flowers.”
    Maggie’s minion deposited two flowers on Sawyer’s desk without making eye contact. Sawyer lowered her Spanish book. It seemed as though the room dropped into a curious—and accusatory—silence. If Sawyer’s boyfriend was dead, their stares seemed to say, who was sending her flowers?
    Sawyer unfurled the first note with trembling fingers. Would her admirer reveal himself—clear up the mystery message?
    “To Tom Sawyer—Goin’ up river. All my love, Huck Finn.”
    Sawyer felt her blood start to pump again and she grinned. Chloe was Sawyer’s Huck Finn—and Sawyer had painted more than a few fences for her—and although the “up the river” joke wasn’t original or new, it never failed to bring a smile to her lips.
    Confident now, Sawyer reached for the second note and smoothed it against her desktop.
    Her smile dropped.
    Dear Sawyer—
    You’ve got a great smile, but I don’t get to see it enough. Maybe I could change that if you’d let me take you out.
    —Cooper
    Sawyer swung her head to the right, her glance just catching Cooper Grey’s flushed cheek as he picked up a pen, started doodling, and focused hard on his notebook.
    Cooper was new to Hawthorne High—a transplant from Kentucky or Kansas with a soft, sexy drawl, a well-muscled body, and a shy smile that Sawyer had often seen from the corner of her eye. He and Sawyer sat next to each other but never really spoke.
    Sawyer swallowed hard and reached for Cooper’s arm just as the bell rang. The aisle flooded with students pushing their way out the door.
    “Hey, hey, hey,” Mr. Hanson shouted, flapping his hands like broken moths. “Tests. Come pick them up on the way out.”
    Sawyer was deliberately slow putting her things away. Though Cooper seemed sweet, dating was the last thing on her mind. She wanted to let him down easily, privately, but once she turned around, the classroom had emptied, and he was gone.
    Sawyer hiked her backpack over her shoulder and was stopped at the head of the class by Mr. Hanson, what she supposed was her Spanish test tubed in his hands. He thumped it against his palm once, then held it out to her.
    “Your test.” It was almost a question, and Sawyer was suddenly unsure whether or not she wanted to reach for it. Mr. Hanson was handsome, with dark hair that backed away from his forehead and eyebrows that rose expectantly. Sawyer wasn’t sure why, but the raised eyebrows paired with Mr. Hanson’s narrowed, leather-brown eyes unnerved her. She steadied her backpack and felt her eyes dart to the back of the classroom to the door, to the rows of abandoned desks behind her. Finally, they flitted over the page in Mr. Hanson’s hand.
    “This is mine?”
    “You know, Sawyer, I’m worried about you.” Mr. Hanson handed her her test, and she swallowed hard.
    “Forty-seven percent?”
    He