Undeclared Read Online Free PDF Page A

put the now half-empty soda can on the table. “But I’m hungry.”
    “I was thinking of ordering in.”
    “Good call.” And then knowing Lana needed an explanation, I told her, “He was waiting outside my Poli Sci class.”
    “Did you talk?” Lana was matter-of-fact, as if she knew I needed steadiness not sympathy.
    I shook my head. “No, but he gave me a note.”
    “Like you’re third graders? What did it say?”
    “I don’t know,” I admitted. I turned toward the entryway where I had dropped all my stuff, including the note, but Lana had cleaned it up.
    “Oh!” She popped up. “I saw it and stuffed it in your bag.” She brought my backpack over, and I rooted through it to pull out the folded piece of lined notebook paper.
    The note felt combustible. I was afraid to unfold it. I shoved it back into the bag, as if I could hide the whole situation away without having to deal with it again.
    “What does it say?” Lana leaned toward me, peering into the bag.
    “I don’t care. What could he say?”
    She shrugged and pointed out, “You don’t have to guess. The answer is right there. Want me to read it for you?”
    In all the years that Noah and I had been writing, no one else had read his letters to me. They were my private property, and I had hoarded my stash like a dragon guarding her gold. But for the very first time, I was afraid of what one of Noah’s letters said, so I reluctantly handed it over and covered my eyes.
    I heard the crinkle of paper as Lana unfolded the note, and then silence. Impatient despite my fear, I lifted my hand and peeked over at her. I could see the pen marks through the back of the lined paper. The note was short. Without even thinking about it, I grabbed the note back and read.
    Dear Grace,
    I thought about how to introduce, or should I say re-introduce, myself to you a million times. In all of my scenarios, I looked like a douche, but I don’t feel right explaining the last two years to you in a letter. But I need you to know that your letters to me while I was in Afghanistan were the only things that kept me sane. I don’t want to lose the friendship we built over those four years. Meet me and let me make amends for what happened. I have an explanation. Whether it is any good, whether you forgive me, is all in your hands.
    Text me at 619-867-5309. I’ll meet you. Any time. Any place.
    Love,
    Noah
    “Love?” He had never written those four letters before. I had. Like an ass, when I wrote to him and told him I wanted to meet him, I signed my letter “Love, Grace.” I wondered if that was partly what set him off, what made him decide he couldn’t meet the teenage freak he’d conned out of forty-eight care packages and letters. I crumpled the letter into a ball.
    “Are you going to meet him?” Lana asked, leaning over and prying the ball of paper out of my hand. She tossed it onto the coffee table. I immediately reached over and started smoothing it out. Even now, after everything he had done, I couldn’t help myself.
    “I don’t know,” I mumbled. Why was he here? Was he a student? He had a backpack, but that could mean anything. It must have really been him in the library the other day.
    “Let it go for tonight. Come to the party and enjoy yourself.” Lana looked at her watch. “We can toss back a few drinks here and then go to the Delt house.”
    The mention of the fraternity reminded me I had promised to take rush photos for Amy and the other Alpha Phis. I groaned in dismay and embarrassment. “I totally forgot about the photos. Is Amy furious?”
    “Nah, I called her right away and said that you weren’t feeling well. She said tomorrow would be fine.”
    “Lana, if you weren’t my cousin, I would kiss you on the lips.”
    “It’s only the cousin thing that is stopping you?” She teased me.
    “You’re the finest piece of ass here at Central, but I have to resist your charms. It’s the law.”
    “If you’re making jokes, I pronounce you