Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1) Read Free

cracks in the ceiling with my tired eyes. I thought about what Carolyn had said; maybe I’m not so horrible after all. I mean, I wasn’t looking for this to happen. I don’t want to be like this; I don’t want to like boys. Maybe there is something wrong with me that a doctor could help with. Maybe I should talk to Richard. A small measure of hope flared within me at that thought. Or maybe that’s the way God intends for me to be? If He has absolute control over everyone and everything, why would he make me bad? Broken? Wrong?
    It was hours before sleep finally took me.
     
     
    “H EY , man, are you feeling any better?” Jamie asked as I slammed my locker closed with a rather loud bang. As he leaned casually against the wall nearby, I noticed his lanky body had started to become more defined under the jeans and soft blue T-shirt he wore. That shirt was my favorite on him.
    Slowly raising my eyes to his face, I wondered if he could see right through me. His brow was furrowed, and he looked worried. For some reason, that made me feel conflicted. I was pleased by the way he cared, even if it was only as a friend, but at the same time I felt guilty about my attraction to him, my need for him. I was terrified someone would find out about that need, because in our small town, anyone who was even the least bit different from the stereotypical Southern boy was ostracized, vilified, as were those close to him. I couldn’t imagine Carolyn would be pleased to be asked to leave her sewing circle because of her queer foster kid.
    “I’m fine,” I told him in a clipped tone, not meeting his eyes. “Let’s go to class.” I started to walk around him, but he grabbed my arm. A feeling like an electric current shot through my skin, and I pulled away sharply. When my eyes finally met his, I was saddened by the hurt and confusion I saw in them. Pushing past him gently, not wanting to make either of us feel more uncomfortable, I headed for English. Jamie was right behind me as we passed door after door of teenagers piling into their classes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a couple of people wave at Jamie, but he only gave them a halfhearted nod. His legs were longer, so he caught up with me by the time we reached the doorway to our first class. He didn’t say anything, just took his customary seat to the right of mine.
    I felt like people were staring at me, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Glancing around, I saw the rest of the kids in the room were only now taking out their books, getting ready for class to start. Feeling utterly paranoid, I turned back around in my seat and noticed Jamie watching me from my right. Grabbing my English book, a beat-up notebook, and my pen, I turned and waited not-so-patiently for the teacher. I was about to focus in class for probably the first time that year.
    For the next hour, I earnestly tried to pay attention to the material being presented, nearly boring a hole in the wall behind Mrs. Cornell’s head with my unflinching stare. By the time the bell rang, I could have told you how many books were in the bookcase behind her desk, listed every piece of paper on the bulletin board, and described in detail the intricate pattern of the crack in her “Best Teacher Ever” coffee mug. Doing everything I could to push the fear out of my mind was fruitless, however, because of all the sideways glances from Jamie. He must have tried to catch my eye at least thirty times during the hour-long lesson, and if he didn’t stop, people were going to talk. Nothing in the world caused more drama than teenagers. What if people start to suspect? What if they start rumors about us? What would I do then?
    The rest of the day was spent in a similar manner. Our school was small, so the entire junior class generally moved as one from room to room, trudging down the hall together like a chain gang of criminals out for their afternoon at the rock quarry. Some people ventured off to band instead of