by P. E. Ryan
He opened Justin’s last e-mail and clicked reply.
So, he typed, I’m the biggest jerk on the planet.
He deleted this. He stared at the screen for a moment, then typed, I know you probably think I’m the biggest jerk on the planet. If you’ll do me the favor of just reading to the end of this e-mail, I’ll be grateful no matter what you decide I am.
Better, he thought. Less pathetic, anyway. More direct. He rested his fingers on the keyboard and tried to relax his mind and focus on what he really wanted to say.
You might already know this, Justin, but going out with you yesterday was a huge step for me. You told me, when we were sitting in my driveway at the end of the night (right before I went psycho) that the whole day had kind of felt like a date to you. Well, it did to me, too. From the moment we first talked about getting together and doing something, I thought of it as a date, even though I told myself I didn’t. The truth is, I wanted it to be a date, and it scared the hell out of me. I guess I’ve gotten used to hiding who I am—sometimes even from myself. And I almost lost my best friend forever because of it (I’ll tell you that story sometime, if we’re even speaking to each other). The point is, I made up my mind that I wasn’t going to do anything about it, ever.
He deleted the word it and typed being gay.
Then I met you. That sounds corny, but it’s true. I met you and I thought, Wow, look at that guy. He’s so together. He’s so comfortable with who he is. Why can’t I be like that? Never in a million years would I have thought that someone like you would want to hang out with someone like me, so when you asked me to, I about croaked on the spot. You have no idea how nervous I was.
But you know what? From the first minute, yesterday, I was comfortable around you. And more than that—I like you, Justin. In a way I never would have admitted to liking anyone before.
So why did I freak out?
I should treat this like a news story and just stick to the facts:
While we were kissing (which was incredible, by the way), I looked up at the house and saw my mom staring at us. I’m not out to her. Or I wasn’t. I am now. I’m also out, as of this afternoon, to my best friend, my other best friend, and my mom’s ex-boyfriend, if you can follow all that. But last night I wasn’t out to anyone but you—and I hadn’t even officially admitted that much. So I panicked. I’d do just about anything now to change what happened so that you didn’t see me react like that, but I can’t.
I’m sorry, Justin. I wish I hadn’t run away. The fact that I even got into the situation to begin with tells me a lot about myself, and about you.
So where do we go from here? I guess that’s up to you. I wouldn’t blame you for never wanting to talk to me again. You seem like the most confident guy in the world, but maybe you weren’t, always. Maybe you’ve been where I am right now.
Respond if you want to. I hope you do.
Sam.
He read it over three times. He changed a few words, but the message stayed the same. He might run it by Melissa, see what she thought. He could even run it by Charlie, if he felt like it, and the fact that both of these things were options made it seem as if the windows and the door to his room had all been thrown wide open—in a good way. It was a strange feeling. But what if Justin deleted it without even reading it? Wouldn’t that just add more embarrassment to the situation? Wouldn’t it be better just to cut his losses on this one, and move on?
The sun was intensely bright outside his window. There really was nothing to lose at this point, and there might be a whole lot to gain, if he was willing to stick his neck out.
Sam moved the cursor across the screen, took a deep breath, and clicked Send.
acknowledgments
Many thanks to my editor, Tara Weikum, whose wisdom and tireless guidance helped shape this novel in so many ways, and to my agent, Lisa Bankoff, for her enthusiasm and sharp eye, and for getting the manuscript into the right hands.
Thanks also to Michael Carroll, Donnie Conner, and Ann Patchett for their friendship, faith, and endless encouragement.
I’m also indebted to Ron Duran for his technical assistance and to Joe B. McCarthy for his assistance in technically fine-tuning certain aspects of this novel.
Finally, as always, immeasurable thanks to Fred Blair.
About the Author
P. E. Ryan also writes under the name of Patrick Ryan, and is the author of the adult novel SEND ME. He grew up on Merritt Island, Florida, and lives in New York City. This is his first book for teens.
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Praise for SAINTS OF AUGUSTINE
“Teens will find both boys’ story lines (and narrative voices) thoroughly compelling right through to the end.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Ryan offers complex views of family lives, realistic language, and convincing characters.”
—ALA Booklist (starred review)
“With humor and compassion, P. E. Ryan shows us that we all have more in common than we think we do, and that people can surprise us in amazing ways if we only give them the chance.”
—Michael Thomas Ford, author of LAST SUMMER and FULL CIRCLE
“Too cool to ask for help and too needy to survive without it, guys will love this tough and poignant book about the emotional minefields they try to swagger through. Ryan captures the delicate brutality of male friendship, and girls should read it to find out what’s really going on in guys’ heads.”
—Robert Lipsyte, author of RAIDERS NIGHT and THE CONTENDER
“[Ryan’s] tightly wrought YA debut moves fast, and each boy’s voice is ragged, distinct, and desperate enough to wrangle the hearts of most teen readers, both guys and girls.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“I loved reading this thoughtful, touching story of how two estranged friends struggle to reconnect. Anyone who’s ever had a best friend will relate.”
—Brent Hartinger, author of GEOGRAPHY CLUB and THE ORDER OF THE POISON OAK
“P. E. Ryan has created not one, but two complex, genuine main characters. One of the best books of the year.”
—Young Adult Books Central
Credits
Cover photograph © 2007 by Ryuichi Sato/Getty Images
Cover design by Joel Tippie
Copyright
SAINTS OF AUGUSTINE. Copyright © 2007 by P. E. Ryan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition SEPTEMBER 2009 ISBN: 9780061975394
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