Say Anything

by Madeleine Labitan

  I shrug. “Sure.”

  What can it hurt, anyway? Plus I love her chamomile tea.

  “Good. But you should probably do some studying first. You don’t want your grades to slip, do you?” She arches a brow at me before standing up and bringing her empty plate to the sink.

  Now, that’s the old Mom talking.

  But how can she expect me to do some studying when my mind is very much preoccupied with worries? Hello, my high school life is at stake here. Which means I really need to do something if I don’t want it to be over.

  “I’ll go up to my room now,” I announce, rising from the table.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to finish your dinner?”

  “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll bring some cookies along with the tea later.”

  “That would be great, Mom. Thanks.” I kiss her cheek, then walk out of the kitchen.

  I need to talk to my besties, stat.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I really don’t think it’s a good idea.” I’m in the passenger seat of Morgan’s car. She’s driving us to school. It’s either her or Bree when I don’t feel like using my bike.

  “Well, do you have any other ideas to get your journal back?”

  I wasn't able to talk to Bree last night, but Morgan was there. Only I'm not on board with her method of solving the problem. Because it's utterly ridiculous.

  She suggested we sneak into Noah’s bedroom and rummage for my journal there while he’s busy with football practice. Yeah, that’s the brilliant idea that she came up with. Like sneaking into someone’s house is a piece of cake.

  Well, to her maybe. But not to me.

  “I’ll have to think of something.” When Morgan lifts a brow at me, I glare. “Anything but that.”

  “Well, good luck with that.” She pauses thoughtfully. “Why do you think Noah did it, though? Did you piss him off or something?”

  “That’s the million dollar question,” I say, throwing my hands up. “I didn’t do anything to him at all.”

  “I’ve never known him for being a jerk. Right? I mean, is he? He’s your neighbor.”

  “Yeah, but we never hang out. We practically ignore each other even when I'm in his house, or he's in mine. We rarely talk."

  We reach the school and Morgan finds a spot to park her car. “Maybe he was depressed because Ackerman dumped him, and he thought messing with you would get him out of his funk.”

  “Should I be grateful or something?”

  Morgan just shrugs her shoulders as she pulls into an empty spot near the main building and kills the engine.

  “Morgan, be serious.”

  She turns to face me. “I think that’s the problem. You’re too serious. Maybe you need to play it cool. Act like it doesn’t bother you.”

  I gape at her. Is she for real?

  Why did I even think she was better at giving advice than Bree when it’s clear that they both suck at it?

  I unbuckle my seat belt. “You know I’m not a good actress. That’s Bree’s forte, not mine. And what if he calls my bluff by showing the journal to Lincoln? He’s going to know.” My eyes widen, panic suddenly seizing my chest. I flail my hands wildly. “Oh my God, I’m gonna freak out.” I cover my face with my hands and groans. “This is a disaster!”

  “Are you sure you’re not a good actress? Because you’re being pretty dramatic right now,” Morgan says dryly, grabbing her non-prescription eyeglasses from the compartment and pushing them up her nose.

  We get out of her car and make our way inside the school.

  “Seriously? That’s all you can say?”

  She suddenly stops in the middle of the busy hallway, causing me to bump into her. “Well, I have another solution.”

  I rub my left shoulder. “Please tell me it’s better than your original idea.”

  “Well,” she draws out.

  “Just spill it out.”

  “You can tell Lincoln about your feelings for him.”

  I blink.

  She pulls me to the side after we got jostled a few times. “Think about it. Noah won’t be able to hold it over your head anymore. Your journal will be useless to him.”

  I smile sweetly. “Geez, Morg, that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

  She smirks. “I know, ri—”

  “Not!” I cross my arms, scowling. “Do you have any idea what will happen if I do that? I’ll be the laughing stock of everyone.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “I’m serious. I’ll be humiliated, especially if Lincoln laughs in my face and the whole school learns about it. I won’t be able to come here anymore. I might as well switch to homeschool.”

  “Oh my God, stop being dramatic. And hello, remember when I told Brad Kingston I had a crush on him last summer? Did my world end? No.”

  “Probably because he also had the hots for you. You even hooked up with him for a month.”

  “Well, maybe the same will happen to you.”

  “I don’t want to hook up with him. I want him to be my boyfriend.” I sigh out loud, then make a face. “You know what? This is useless. I’ll just see you later.” I head over to my locker down the hall, leaving my no-good best friend standing there.

  “Pritchett, my man!”

  Stopping dead, I follow the direction of that voice and catch Michael Cox—a baseball jock—giving Noah a high five.

  Should I walk past or confront him right here? I pause to think it over. Well, what better time than the present?

  I wait for Michael to leave and for Noah to focus his attention back on his locker before approaching. I have a golden opportunity here. I’m not going to waste it.

  Standing behind him, I tap his shoulder.

  He whirls around, then smirks when he sees me. “Oh hey, Ellison.”

  “You forgot to give my journal back.” I give him an easygoing smile, deciding to go the act-cool-and-play-it-down route after all. Maybe my friends were on to something and I’d be able to win Noah over this way.

  “Did I?” he asks innocently.

  My smile fades. “Seriously? You’re making me work for it?”

  “Chill, Ellison. I was just messing with you.” He opens his bag and takes my journal out, handing it over to me.

  I stare at his hand. “Just like that?”

  “You don’t want it?” He starts to take it back.

  I quickly grab it. “I do. Thanks.”

  “I had every intention of handing it back, you know. I’m not a douche.”

  Putting my journal where it’s safe—my bag—I make a face at him. “If you weren’t a douche, you wouldn’t have taken it in the first place.”

  “Point taken.” His lips twitch. “But it won’t happen again.”

  I look at him warily. “And you’ll keep your mouth shut? You won’t tell Lincoln about it?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Oh, God. I freeze, wide-eyed.

  Seriously, how much bad luck can a girl have in a couple days?

  Fighting back a laugh, Noah grabs my arms and spins me around to face my worst nightmare.

  “Hey, man. Riley and I are just discussing something.” Noah casually drapes his arm over my shoulders. “Right, Ri?”

  I give him a panicked look. What is he doing?

  Lincoln looks between us. “I heard my name mentioned.”

  He’s going to know my secret. Noah is going to tell him everything. Oh, God. My pulse begins to race, my palms sweating.

  But Noah takes me off-guard with his answer. “Oh, that? That was nothing. We’re actually working on a secret project and Riley here was just making sure it would remain, well, a secret.”

  I nod furiously, playing along. I don’t know what Noah is up to. But if it will keep him quiet about my journal, I’m all for it.

  “See?” Noah says.

  Lincoln shrugs. “Well, if you say so. See you in class.” Then something incredible happens. He smiles at me. “Riley.”
r />   A stupid grin is painted on my face as I watch him walk away. “Did you see that?” I tell Noah dreamily. “He smiled at me. And he totally knows my name.”

  Best. Day. Ever.

  “Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?” Noah scoffs. “And if he hadn’t before, he would have known now because I just mentioned it.”

  “Ugh. Do you really have to ruin the moment?”

  He crosses his arms and studies my features, making me a little uncomfortable. “You really like him, huh?”

  “Like you had to ask. You took my journal. That’s all the proof you need.”

  “Actually, all I saw was I heart Lincoln Evans. I didn’t take a look at the other pages.”

  Huh. That’s a surprise and a relief at the same time.

  The relief must be showing in my face because he narrows his eyes. “There’s more, isn’t there?” His eyes sparkle in mischief as he leans in to whisper. “I bet there’s even a Mrs. Riley Evans in there somewhere.”

  Heat climbs up to my cheeks. “Of course not. I’m not that hopeless.”

  “Hah. Then why are you blushing?”

  “Because you’re annoying. Ugh. Whatever. I’m heading to class.” I start to walk off.

  “Bye, Mrs. Evans.”

  I spin around in an instant, my eyes bugging out. “Oh my God, shut up!”

  Eyes twinkling, Noah motions to zip his lips.

  Well, he better not unzip it. Otherwise, I’m doomed.

  ******

  “Really? He gave the journal to you just like that? He didn't even make you sweat for it?" Bree whispers as our History teacher lectures in front of the class after I told her what happened before first period.

  “I know. I was a little shocked myself. I thought I had to go through extreme measures just to get it back.”

  Thank God I didn’t have to carry out Morgan’s breaking-in idea. It’s the worst idea ever. But then, to be honest, I would have probably done it if Noah hadn’t returned my journal back. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all.

  She arches a disbelieving brow. “And Noah won’t say anything to Lincoln?”

  I shake my head. “He said he wouldn't. But I'm still a little worried.”

  “Well, that’s understandable. I’d be worried, too.”

  “Right? I mean, what if he slips up and accidentally blurts it out?”

  “Or”—Bree pauses—“what if he tells Lincoln just because he thinks it’s funny?”

  I grow silent. I didn’t even consider that.

  Noah already thinks it’s funny. Seeing the contents of the journal with his own eyes would only confirm that. He said he didn’t actually look inside. But what if he lied and totally did?

  I bite my lip. “You really think—”

  “Ms. Ellison, Ms. Lopez”—Mr. Rosenfield suddenly calls out, startling us and drawing everyone's attention—“care to share your private conversation with the rest of the class?”

  My neck grows hot, and I know my cheeks are sporting a deep shade of red. I’m absolutely mortified.

  Especially when just a few rows ahead Laura Ackerman and her friends Lindsay York and Tabitha Wilson start snickering and whispering to each other.

  Please let the ground open up and swallow me whole.

  “Actually, sir”—Bree clears her throat and lifts her chin up—“Riley and I were just discussing how the American Revolution shaped the socio-political landscape of our country.”

  Mr. Rosenfield merely lifts a brow before turning to me expectantly. “Ms. Ellison?”

  Seriously? That explanation wasn’t enough for him?

  I swallow hard. “Um, go Patriots?” I even raise a fist, causing the rest of the class to snicker.

  Go, Patriots? Oh my God—whyyy? Why am I so lame?

  As the teacher goes back to the front and Bree shoots me a sympathetic look, I close my eyes and slink low in my seat in utter humiliation.

  That’s it. I’m never opening my mouth in class ever again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The last period ends, and I'm still reeling from my public display of embarrassment. And I thought I was having the best day ever because Noah returned my journal without a fuss and Lincoln smiled at me.

  But nooo. I had to make a fool of myself in class.

  “Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Bree assures me as the three of us—me, her and Morgan—cross the parking lot to their cars.

  I scowl. “Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one who had to deal with stupid “Go, Patriots” jokes in the hallways all day. People are so immature. Ugh.”

  “Go, Patriots, amirite?” As if on cue, Harry Stein—a fellow junior—snickers at me as he walks past us.

  “Shut it, Stein,” Morgan snaps back.

  “See?” I glare at Bree.

  She smiles sheepishly. “I’m sure they’ll forget all about it tomorrow.”

  I seriously doubt it.

  “I’m giving it a week,” Morgan singsongs.

  I whip my head back to Bree. “Again, see?”

  "Who knows? Maybe there's gonna be a hot gossip in the next few days, and you'll be off the hook."

  “Not if she’s gonna be at the center of that hot gossip.”

  I stop dead on my tracks and face Morgan. “What are you talking about?”

  “Look.”

  I follow her gaze and see Noah leaning against his yellow Jeep a few feet away. “Is he—”

  “Waving you over?” Bree interrupts. “Yeah, he is.”

  Well, it doesn’t make sense. Why would he?

  "Or maybe Laura's behind us." I glance over my shoulder to check, but she's not there.

  “Hey, Ellison!”

  I guess that answers that.

  “What now?” I mutter, walking over to him with my besties on my heels. I fold my arms as I stop in front of him. “What do you want, Pritchett? And make it a good one.”

  “You look a little pissy.” He smirks. “It’s the Patriots thing, isn’t it?”

  I purse my lips.

  Someone snorts behind me. Most likely Morgan.

  I ignore her and keep my attention on Noah. “Just say whatever you want to say.”

  He surprises me by opening the passenger door of his Jeep. “Come on, hop in. I’ll give you a ride.”

  I stare at him blankly. “Why?”

  “Just hop in. I’ll explain later.”

  I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder. “No, thanks. I already have a ride home.”

  “I’m sure your friends won’t mind if I take it from here. Right, ladies?” He winks at Bree and Morgan conspiratorially.

  Please. As if he can charm them into—

  “Sure. Let’s go, Bree. See you later, Ri.”

  “Bye, Ri. Call us!”

  My mouth falls open as I watch the two traitors walk away and head over to their cars. What are they doing? Are they really going to leave me alone with Noah just like that?

  “They seriously did,” I mutter in shock as they both pull out of the parking lot, honking their horns at us as they do so.

  “Are you going to get in or what?” Noah is already sitting in the driver’s seat.

  “Do I have a choice?” I huff, climbing into his Jeep. “You made them ditch me.”

  “I told you I’m giving you a ride.”

  “Don’t you have football practice?”

  “Not today.”

  “You know, you still haven’t told me why you decided to drive me home.” I make the mistake of looking up as I finish putting the seatbelt on. My eyes lock with Laura Ackerman who’s just getting into her convertible right across the lot.

  She and her friends—who are already settled inside the car—are narrowing their eyes at me, as if silently demanding why I’m sitting in Noah’s Jeep.

  Uh-oh. That’s not good. Pissing off the most popular girl in my grade has never been a part of my plan. I never aspired to put a target on my back.

  “Um, I don’t think she’s happy to see me here.�
�

  Noah pauses from starting the engine. “Who?”

  “Your girlfriend.”

  His brows draw together in confusion, and then he looks out in Laura's direction. "Oh, you mean Laura? Don't worry, she doesn't care. We're already broken up."

  "Does she know that?" I ask warily when Laura shoots me a look heavy with warning before peeling out of the parking lot.

  Noah does the same in the next breath. “She’s the one who dumped me.”

  Other guys won’t even openly admit to having been dumped, but not Noah. He just blurted it out as a matter of fact. There wasn’t even a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

  Probably because he’s oozing with confidence—sometimes to the point of being cocky. I doubt the boy even has an inch of shame in him.

  I don’t know if I should envy him or pity him.

  “Anyway, I’m not taking you home yet.”

  I snap my head toward him. “What? Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “I don’t like surprises.”

  “Why not? Surprises are fun.”

  Not to me. Not after I went home to Mom crying and declaring that Dad was dead. That day had effectively destroyed my excitement for surprises. I couldn’t stand to be the kid who loved them anymore.

  Silence permeates the air as Noah drives off to our destination. I wonder what he exactly wants from me. He already gave me my journal back. Is he going to use it to blackmail me? Is it what this is about?

  Nah, Noah won’t do something like that. I’ve never known him to be an asshole. He would have already told Lincoln and the whole school if he was.

  To my surprise, he pulls up in front of Bobby’s Diner. “This is it?”

  He shrugs. “I’m hungry.”

  “Did anybody tell you that you suck at giving surprises?” I tell him as we walk through the doors of the diner.

  “I thought you hate them.” He slides into an empty booth and promptly picks up the menu.

  I hesitate for a moment before sitting across from him. While he continues to peruse the menu, I glance around the place.

  Only half of the diner is occupied, and most of the customers are older people. In fact, Noah and I are the only ones below twenty years old. Not really surprising. There's a café near West Shores High, so that's the preferred hangout spot for most of the teenagers in town.