Easy Read Free Page B

mostly asleep, and a girl drinking a venti something
and chattering nonstop to her neighbor. The other open seat was on the back row,
next to a guy who appeared to be doodling something into the margin of his
textbook. I turned in that direction at the same time the professor entered a
side door below, and the artist raised his head to scan the front of the
classroom. I froze, recognizing my savior from two nights ago. If I could’ve
moved, I would have turned and fled the classroom.
    The attack came
flooding back. The helplessness. The terror. The humiliation. I’d curled into a
ball on my bed and cried all night, thankful for Erin’s text that she was
staying with Chaz. I hadn’t told her what Buck had done—partly because I knew
she’d feel responsible for making me go, and for letting me leave alone. Partly
because I wanted to forget it had happened at all.
    “If everyone will
be seated, we’ll begin.” The professor’s statement shook me from my stupor—I
was the only student standing. I bolted to the empty chair between the chatty
girl and the sleepy guy.
    She glanced at me,
never pausing in her weekend confession of how trashed she’d been and where and
with whom. The guy unsquinted his eyes just enough to notice when I slid into
the bolted-down chair between them, but he didn’t otherwise move.
    “Is this seat
taken?” I whispered to him.
    He shook his head
and mumbled, “It was. But she dropped. Or stopped coming. Whatever.”
    I pulled a spiral
from my bag, relieved. I tried not to look at Kennedy, but the angled seating
made that effort challenging. His perfectly styled dirty blond hair and the familiar
uncreased button-down shirt drew my eyes every time he moved. I knew the effect
of that green plaid next to his striking green eyes. I’d known him since ninth
grade. I’d watched him alter his style from a boy who wore mesh shorts and
sneakers every day to the guy who sent his fitted shirts out to be pressed,
kept his shoes scuff-free, and always looked as though he’d just stepped from
the cover of a magazine. I’d seen more than one teacher turn her head as he
passed before snapping her gaze away from his perfect, off-limits body.
    Junior year, we
had pre-AP English together. He focused on me from the first day of class,
flashing his dimpled smile in my direction before taking his seat, inviting me
to join his study group, inquiring about my weekend plans—and finally making
himself a part of them. I’d never been so confidently pursued. As our class
president, he was familiar to everyone, and he made a concerted effort to
become familiar with everyone. As an athlete, he was a credit to the
baseball team. As a student, his academic standing was in the top ten percent.
As a member of the debate team, he was known for conclusive arguments and an unbeaten
record.
    As a boyfriend, he
was patient and attentive, never pushing me too far or too fast. Never forgetting
a birthday or an anniversary. Never making me doubt his intentions for us. Once
we were official, he changed my name—and everyone followed suit, including me.
“You’re my Jackie,” he told me, referencing the wife of Jack Kennedy, his
namesake and personal idol.
    He wasn’t related.
His parents were just weirdly political—and also at odds with each other. He
had a sister named Reagan and a brother named Carter.
    Three years had
passed since I’d gone by Jacqueline, and I fought daily to regain that one original
part of myself that I’d put aside for him. It wasn’t the only thing I’d given
up, or the most important. It was just the only one I could get back.
     
    ***
    Between trying to avoid staring at
Kennedy for fifty minutes straight and having skipped the class for two weeks,
my brain was sluggish and uncooperative. When class ended, I realized I’d
absorbed little of the lecture.
    I followed Dr.
Heller to his office, running through various appeals in my head to induce him
to give me a chance to catch up. Until that