Just a Matter of Time Read Free Page B

straw. All at once, I felt that little burst. Not as intense as when Gordon had given me time, but still there, still wonderful.
    Maya’s violin screamed.
     
    * * *
     
    Maya came after me in the hall outside of Orchestra. She shoved me into a practice room, her arms like steel from years on the violin. She slammed the door behind us, then leaned against it so I couldn’t escape. We were both going to be late for next block. When I opened my mouth to speak, no words came out.
    “That wasn’t funny,” she said.
    “Yeah. Well, now you know how I feel.”
    “You don’t have a clue.”
    In a way, Maya and I were alike, both of us girls whose names kids remembered during calculus and then forgot by lunch. We filled our days overachieving—extra credit reports, extracurriculars, extra-everything—to forget how lonely we were. And once upon a time, we’d been friends.
    “I don’t know what I did to you,” I said, “but—”
    “Right. Like you and Gordon aren’t laughing about it.”
    “Laughing about what?” Nothing about this was funny: not Maya stealing my time, and not me stealing hers.
    She pushed off the door and stepped close enough that I could see where the red in her hair ended and the brown roots began.
    “Here’s what you don’t understand,” she said. “It’s an addiction. And there’s no rehab for it, no twelve-step program. And do you know just how dangerous it is to get between an addict and his supply?”
    Was she threatening me? Really? After all this? This time, I stepped closer. “I just messed up your solo,” I told her. “I can do it again.” At least, I was pretty sure I could.
    Her lip curled in a sneer. “I’ve been doing this for years, and you’re way behind the learning curve.”
    The bell for last block rang, then a hush fell over the hallway. I was a statue in the center of the room. Maya’s hand was frozen on the doorknob.
    “Listen,” she said, and if her voice wasn’t softer, at least it wasn’t harsh. “You’re the one who needs to be scared, okay? Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    With that, she threw open the door and ran from the room.
     
    * * *
     
    “What did I ever do to Maya?”
    The question had been haunting me since yesterday. Gordon and I sat, not in the coffee shop, but in that quiet corner of Five Mile Creek. Spring had cast a soft green over everything and brought out the flecks in Gordon’s eyes. I was resisting the urge to get lost in their depths, but it was a battle I didn’t mind losing. Earlier, I’d told him about how I’d stopped Maya’s solo and he’d given me a high five.
    Now he plucked at the grass that poked up around the blanket we sat on. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I had a crush on you in ninth grade?”
    My head shot up. My heart pounded so hard, I thought it might pop through not only my ribs but the skin surrounding my chest.
    “No,” I said. “You didn’t. You went to the freshman dance with Maya.”
    “Only because she told me that you thought I was a total creeper.”
    “She told you that?”
    He gave his head an emphatic nod.
    “But—” My mouth hung open, but I lacked the willpower to shut it, so stunned was I by this revision of history. “I liked you.”
    My words came out soft, so soft, I almost hoped the breeze would catch them and steal them away. But Gordon jerked his head, almost like I’d slapped him. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
    “You . . . liked . . . me.” Each word he spoke grew slower, so I wasn’t sure if he’d finished talking or not.
    “You never wondered why I was always at your locker?” I shook my head, both in disbelief and to rid my cheeks of the shame that heated them. “Or why I rode my bike past your house a hundred times every weekend?”
    “I just thought I was lucky.”
    He kissed me then, one hand on the back of my head, my mouth still open and gaping, so it was just his lips and a lot of air. I exhaled. He inhaled. For one instant, we shared the