I clenched my jaw, thinking about that. But it didn’t matter. “It’s okay. We’ve already decided. It’s better this way. We can still be friends or something.”
But I hated the way my voice sounded, like the tears might come back.
And Wes never would.
Nineteen
My romance with Wes was dead, but to my blog followers, it was very much still alive.
I’d blogged about just about everything that had happened between us, every magical moment.
But ever since our preemptive break up, I hadn’t had the will to share the bad news.
Or blog at all.
A week later, I thought I should really give an update and let my followers know that @PHWriterGirl was very much single after all.
And that her crush on the cute boy next door would have to end for good.
The first thing I noticed when I logged in to write that blog post was the notification for new comments and views.
I clicked on the number and my jaw fell.
Ten thousand views and well over a thousand comments?
I blinked several times.
Refreshed the page several times.
There had to be some kind of mistake.
No, this wasn’t happening.
WAS IT?
After about five minutes of staring at the blog post and the number of page views in the last week, I kind of, almost, began to believe this was real.
I sat there speechless for about another five minutes. Bile rose in my throat as I thought about the number ten thousand.
TEN THOUSAND.
Ten thousand unique views meant ten thousand different people had read this blog post.
I blew out my breath slowly, then I began scrolling through the comments.
OMG, favorite love story ever.
Lightning emojis. Gifs.
Harry Potter is my LIFE, and this is the kind of love story I hope I have one day. Thank you for writing this <3
Harry Potter and cute boys? How is this real life?
Love this.
Made my day. Can’t wait to read more.
And so many more comments like that. All for a quiet girl sitting at her desk and who most people probably would hardly notice at school.
But somehow my kiss with Wes at the bookstore had gone viral.
I glanced toward Wes’s window, still sitting at my desk. The sun was really starting to brighten up, which meant I was going to be late for school if I didn’t leave.
In his room, Wes pulled on a shirt, and I looked away at the sight of him. When I glanced at him again, he was looking this way too.
Our eyes met for a millisecond before he grabbed his backpack and left his room.
I did the same, my neck still warm and wishing things didn’t have to be this way. If he had been one year younger, maybe. Then he’d be my age, a senior in high school like me. Probably wouldn’t be Hugo’s best friend.
We’d have a chance.
Or maybe not.
Maybe we just weren’t meant to be, and I had to accept it.
When I got to school, it was all I could do to stop thinking about the blog post about our kiss in the bookstore and how it had gone viral practically overnight.
Another tsunami wave of emotions hit me, rendering me unable to focus on mundane things like pre-calculus at all.
What were numbers when I couldn’t stop reliving that day in the bookstore?
Or our break-up kiss in my room?
So many times I’d wondered what Wes would think of my room, all the books on my shelves, but I’d never pictured it going anything like that.
With sweet kisses and tears and goodbyes.
A tap on the shoulder had me turning around. Ella stared back at me wide-eyed then her gaze shifted to the front of the room.
Uh oh.
Mr. Nguyen had his deathly stare locked on me. “Ms. Hart, do we need to send you to the nurse for potential hearing issues?” The rest of the class snickered, and I sank down in my seat.
“No, sir,” I squeaked. “I’m sorry.”
Mr. Nguyen exhaled. “The square root of 81 pi to the 6th power, please,” he said, clearly still annoyed at me for not paying attention in class.
Square root of what?
I glanced around. The couple dozen pairs of eyes all on me really didn’t help.
Ella coughed behind me. “9 pi cubed,” she muttered. Another cough. “9 pi cubed.”
I blinked back at the teacher. “Um, nine pi cubed?”
He narrowed his eyes but went back to the whiteboard.
Phew.
I turned around and whispered a very grateful thanks to Ella. She mouthed something that I was pretty sure was, “Take notes.”
She went back to scribbling, and I tried to make sense of the rows of numbers and letters on the board.
The bell finally and mercifully rang, and I closed my binder. Turning to face Ella, I said, “Yeah, I’m going to need some tutoring because I understood nothing.”
Ella gave me a smile and put away her things. “Daydream much?”
That reminded me. I hadn’t told the #BFFs yet. “Guess what?”
From his desk, Mr. Nguyen gave us an icy look, and I grabbed my backpack and then pulled Ella out of there.
Once we were in the hallway, I told her about the blog post and everything else I hadn’t really mentioned.
We stopped at our lockers and Ella blinked back at me. “You two read Harry Potter together?”
I couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. “Yeah.”
She grinned wide. Ella, a different type of geek herself, could probably relate on some level to my obsession with Harry Potter. “That is completely adorable.”
It was time for lunch. We put away our things, and this time, she grabbed my arm. “Come on. We have to tell the others. Lena’s gonna die when she hears all the details.”
When the five of us sat around the lunch table, trays in front of us and Ian gave Lena his customary forehead kiss and was off, Ella turned to me.
She glanced around the table. “There’s a little something more that Rey hasn’t quite mentioned yet. You know, about…Wes,” she finished in a dramatic whisper.
Everyone else immediately turned their gazes to me.
I sighed. “Go to storyofmylife.com,” I said. “Then I’ll explain the rest.”
Right away, everyone except Ella pulled out their phones. Ella looked over Lena’s shoulder. Realization slowly dawned on Lena’s face and then Tori’s and then Harper’s.
Lena stared at me, showing me the familiar blog post on her phone. “Wait…” I could practically see the cogs turning in her head. “This is you?”
Tori looked at me too. “You wrote this? This is all over school! And Twitter!”
I laughed nervously. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Harper said, “Rey, I can’t believe it. I was just reading this yesterday, and I thought it was just…so romantic.”
I shrugged. “That’s what really happened between Wes and me.”
Tori kept staring at me, like she was trying to figure something out. “The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I mean, of course, this is you.”
Lena said, glancing up at me. “This is so cool! Your own website?”
I nodded. “I started it a couple months ago, but I didn’t start posting regularly until recently.”
Tori scrolled and looked up. “About you and Wes?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I really didn’t think anyone would find it, and then…”
Harper showed her phone to everyone. “Over a thousand comments?”
Lena said, “Rey, you’re famous!”
I laughed. “Not really. But this post got a lot of hits for some reason. I just found out this morning.”
Tori put her phone down. “I’m not surprised. Rey, it’s…if this is what your writing is like, then your words need to be somewhere besides your journals.”
Harper nodded. “You’ve got a gift.”
Their comments had me blushing and my stomach roiling from the nerves of my friends knowing my secret. “I don’t know. It’s just for fun, like a hobby. I can’t make a career out of it.”
Harper raised a brow. “Are you kidding? I could totally see you writing an autobiography or stories or something.”
Lena kept scrolling. “Completely agree, but here’s what I want to know. Why didn’t you say anything before? You said you two kissed, not that you had this epic connection and viral first kiss.”
I bit my lip, kind of embarrassed about the whole thing. “I thought you guys would think I was like…a total nerd.”
That had all of them laughing and then me too.
Tori hugged me from the side. “Rey, of course we know you’re a nerd. We love everything about you, but especially that.”
Harper beamed at me. “I just can’t get over how much I love this, Rey.”
Tori said, “Does Wes know?”
I shook my head, practically wilting. “Not at all. And we decided to end things so… no point in telling him.”
Harper blinked and looked away, and I could tell she wanted to say something. Probably tell me not to give up on Wes, but my friends knew my mind was set.
Wes was simply off limits.
There was no changing that fact.
Twenty
It was completely surreal to be at my locker, exchanging one book for another, and then hear somebody read one of my blog posts out loud.
The nerdy freshman and sophomore girls at our school were going absolutely crazy over the #StoryofMyLife blog. They read the same posts over and over again on their way to class or in front of their lockers.
I got a good look at one group of girls, and I couldn’t believe I’d looked that young just three years ago. They looked like they belonged in middle school, but like me, they’d be graduating and on their way out of here in the blink of an eye.
They had so much ahead of them, and they didn’t even know it.
So much they didn’t know. So much they had yet to figure out, about themselves and the world.
I finally turned away from them and hugged my journal to my chest, my backpack around my shoulders.
Remembering I had to make a quick stop before Art class, I made a left down the hallway instead of a right.
The bell rang, but I kept my easy stride. Then I reached Ms. Moreau’s office and gave it a knock.
But instead of hearing the usual “Come in!” I heard her voice behind me.
“Rey!”
I turned around to find Ms. Moreau walking down the hallway. She looked like Mrs. Frizzle from the Magic School Bus today, same dress and everything.
That and the little dangly Saturns she was wearing as earrings today had me giggling. “Hi, Ms. Moreau. I adore your outfit, by the way.”
She stopped for a quick pose. “Why, thank you.” She came up to her office and unlocked it in one swift motion. “Come in, come in.”
I followed her inside and sat down in front of her desk, pulling a yellow paper out of my backpack along with a check my parents had written the night before.
Ms. Moreau sat down and clasped her hands. “What can I help you with?”
I handed her both the paper and check. “I have my order form for senior apparel,” I explained.
She took my things but frowned. “Oh, honey. These were due last week.”
“Oh,” I replied. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” Maybe if I hadn’t tuned out everything graduation related lately, then my neck wouldn’t be feeling so hot right now.
All of a sudden, I felt like a total mess.
Mrs. Moreau gave me an empathetic smile. “Let me see what I can do, okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks, Ms. Moreau. I appreciate it.”
I’d kept putting off turning in that order, and now I probably wouldn’t be getting anything.
Why did that bring back that feeling of panic from the time Lena had shared her big news? Tears welled up in my eyes, and I focused on keeping my breathing steady.
I stood up. I had to get out of there. Find a bathroom.
But Ms. Moreau’s voice stopped me. “I’m actually glad you stopped in anyway. Sit for another minute.”
The room swayed, but I found my seat again.
Deep breath.
“Rey, honey? You okay?” I heard.
I looked up at her. Nodded. Smiled. “Yeah. I just…forgot to have breakfast this morning, but I’m fine.”
Ms. Moreau looked a little startled and then she got that familiar look of hers, the one where it seemed like she was trying to assess you, figure out if you were being 100% honest.
She pulled open a drawer, grabbed something, and then handed me a protein bar. “Here you go. You’re so tiny. We can’t have you not eating, can we?” Her smile was back, and so was mine.
I took the protein bar. Actually, I was kind of hungry.
Once I took a couple of bites, she seemed satisfied, and I waited for her to go on. And I was so relieved that I hadn’t had another episode.
“Okay,” she began, glancing at her computer. “So really, I just wanted to check in with you and see how you’re doing. I know we talked a little bit last semester. It seems like your parents are really involved at home, helping you with college applications and everything?” That assessing look of hers was back.
I finished chewing. “Yeah, they’re pretty involved.” If by involved, she meant drawing up spreadsheets for scholarship applications and scheduling campus visits left and right.
Ms. Moreau gave a quick “hmm” and I went on. “I’ve applied at a few places. Got into a couple. I’m still not sure where I’ll go, but both are good choices.”
She gave another “Hmm” and I wondered just what she was thinking.
After another couple seconds of silence, she finally said, “And what do you want, Rey? Where do you see yourself a year from now? Five years from now? On campus? Getting a degree? Working? Something else?”
I bit the inside of my lip and shrugged. “I guess getting a degree?”
“And what kind of degree would that be?” she said, leaning back in her chair.
Everything about Ms. Moreau said she was here for me, cared about me, just wondering about me before I left her domain forever. But why did I feel like my entire life was before me, and I felt like I was inside a maze?
Completely lost, with no idea where I was supposed to go?
The thought of walls closing in on me had that feeling of panic rising in my throat again. I took another bite of my protein bar, pretending to think and chewing the cardboard that strawberry frosted protein bar had become.
When I swallowed, I said, “Um, maybe journalism?”
The look of approval on Ms. Moreau’s face told me I had given her the correct answer. Hey, I liked writing. It made sense, right?
I could do journalism.
She scrolled and typed at something in her computer. “Now, I don’t see our journalism class on your schedule or transcripts for this year. Or last… You did take it sophomore year?” She turned back to me.
Oh yeah, Mrs. Carter had proven way too intense for what I thought what the class would be like so I hadn’t taken journalism again. Turned out I didn’t really want to scope out home games and meets for details on scores and plays I didn’t really understand.
So I’d gone back to my own creative writing.
“Yeah, so I guess it’s a maybe on the journalism,” I confessed. “But I’m sure I’ll find something.”
Ms. Moreau nodded. “You still have plenty of time to decide. And really, in today’s changing world, there’s so much you could do, Rey. So many students nowadays aren’t even going to college. They’re skipping the student loans and going for two-year degrees in well-paying fields like welding or just working their way up with paid internships. Starting their own businesses, even.”
I couldn’t really imagine myself doing any of that, but I nodded anyway. “Yeah,” I said. “I�
�m just gonna have to think about it. Talk with my parents.”
They expected me to go to a four-year university, though. So I’d have to figure out something that would work for me. I had no idea how. But hey, Hugo was doing it.
Why not me?
But as I left Ms. Moreau’s office, that feeling of panic found itself back into my stomach and settled there.
Hanging out with Wes the past few weeks had been a happy distraction from all things college, but with graduation only a month away and Wes no longer in the picture, I no longer had a choice but to face the impending doom that was life after high school.
Twenty-One
I’d been avoiding Wes for a couple weeks. I knew that if I was around him it would be obvious to everyone else how I felt about him.
Obvious that something had happened with us.
But I could only hibernate in my room or escape to the treehouse for so long. Eventually I had to come down for dinner, and just like so many other nights, Wes was joining us.
I froze when I saw him, then quickly glanced away. Finding my chair and sitting down, I avoided eye contact, focusing instead on the clean white plate in front of me. One fork. One spoon. One knife.
A cloth napkin neatly folded. I grabbed it and blinked as I set it on my lap.
Still in some pink fuzzy socks, I realized maybe I should have put on some real shoes.
My twin brothers came in to the dining room and took their seats next to me while Hugo and Wes chatted quietly opposite me. My mom came in with a big casserole dish, and my dad said, “That smells great.”
My mom took a seat to my right and smiled. “We are so happy to have Wes joining us for dinner tonight,” she said.
Wes nodded graciously. “Thank you for having me, Mr and Mrs. Hart. I appreciate it. This definitely beats frozen pizza.”
That had Dad chuckling. “You’re welcome any time, Wesley.”
“Yes, always happy to have you,” my mom said, dishing out her casserole to everyone. A steaming square of something with green beans poking out of it landed on my plate. “Isn’t that right, everyone?”
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