A letter. A stupid letter.
Almost a week has gone by since Skylar Fletcher left. Looking around, no one would be able to tell a Harris Academy Bulldog was once a student here. And the really shitty part—that girl hasn’t spoken to me since. No texts, calls, how are you’s. Not one flipping word.
I don’t understand. I thought we had something special. Then again, in eighth grade I thought Alison Winters was something special, and she turned around, ripped my heart right out of my chest, and stomped on it a few times. You’d figure I’d learn, and up until August, I was doing just fine. Not letting others in. Keeping my distance. Now look at me. I’m a mess, all because I had to fall for Skylar-freaking-Fletcher.
Might as well hand in my man card because I’ve officially turned into a huge sap. Calling her, texting her, asking how she is and whatever else, but she hasn’t responded.
Lance and Kayla come walking up to the lunch table hand in hand, making my thoughts worse. Kayla glances over at me and drops her smile into a deep frown. “She hasn’t called?”
I wish they’d both quit asking me this damn question. “Nah.”
I force my attention to the Pepsi machines. “I’m sorry, man,” I hear Lance say. “Maybe … she’s waiting for winter break. Five more days.”