Lessons in Love Read Free Page A

know which teachers to avoid and which to hope for. They don’t know that having lunch fourth period means you’re starving by eighth. Whereas we…” I point to my breastbone. “We know all too well the highs and lows of Hadley and could easily tie up the phone lines with complaints before opening day.”
    “So you don’t know about Chaucer’s advanced creative writing,” Chili gestures with her chin so I see Mr. Chaucer walking toward Bishop, and herding some of the boys with him.
    “Not yet. But the chances are slim. I have to present my case in person.” I’d love to be accepted into his small circle of the students who are truly talented writers, but I haven’t even taken one creative writing class let alone the three that are prerequisites for his group. Limited to five students, the class meets at night, and feels more like an members-only talent club than a class. “Rumor has it Chaucer brings snacks,” I say.
    “So, you’re trying to get in so you can have brownies and graham crackers?” Chili elbows me and I laugh. I keep laughing, for no good reason except it’s funny to be sitting here, at my school but doing something — registering — that I’ve never done, with my friend from the summer.
    “I’m so glad you’re in Fruckner,” I say and laugh more.
    “Wouldn’t it be great if we were roommates?” Chili sighs, over-dramatically. “We’d be studying and talking, hanging out and not having to deal with anyone else…”
    “You know we have no control over it, right?” I mime picking a name from a hat. “You do the roommate draw and bam — that’s it — your fate is sealed for the year.”
    Chili lowers her voice. “You nervous that you’ll get Lindsay?”
    I stick out my tongue then reel it in fast. “It seems too obvious, doesn’t it? Like oh, two enemies room together and learn to love one another’s differences…”
    “This movie of the week brought to you by feminine products and diet aids,” Chili says, doing voice-over.
    Then we pause. “It could happen,” I say. The thought of bunking in with Lindsay, of deciding what configuration to make our beds, hearing each other’s phone calls, knowing the comings and goings — it’s all too much to bear.
    “Whoa,” Chili says. “Just — wait — hold everything.” She has her tongue pressed to the inside of her mouth making a lump on the outside as she sucks in air between her teeth. I follow her gaze to the oval, where a certain boy duo is kicking a soccer ball.
    “Hey,” I say and smile at Chili. “Jacob…” I use my hand as a visor, checking him out as though he could have radically changed since I saw him on the Vineyard. Hard to believe it was only a few days ago, really, what with the change of scene, stress level that’s already entering the airwaves, and the fact that my stomach gave just the smallest of leaps when I saw him. I switch tacks right away. “Jacob’s with Chloe Swain. Did you know that? Oh, yeah, you were at the fair with us when it happened.” I pause and think about catching Chloe and Jacob is surprise lip-lock in the hall of mirrors are the fair on the Vineyard. “But, anyway…” I look again. “Charlie’s visiting this weekend.” Saying his name brings a smile to my face. “He’s so…”
    “Am I allowed to have a turn to gush?” Chili raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms over her chest.
    “Sorry. Just…I have a lot of words — and no place to put them.”
    “It’s called a journal and according to Chris you have tons.” Chili turns back to the oval and then her tongue resumes its place on the inside of her mouth. “Who. Is. That?”
    I pay attention to Chili’s verbal punctuation because she’s not usually interested in the male species. Or not in an overt way. “He’s — he’s just…”
    “You wanted the space for words…”
    Chili tilts her head. “You’re the lyricist turned writer. You tell me —”
    I look over where Jacob heads the ball back