13

I think the test goes well. I'm able to do every single one of the problems and the results seemed reasonable enough.

I give my test back to the professor in advance. He nods and tells me that I can already leave, so I pack up my things and exit the room. As I walk away, I hear the door open and close quickly, then some steps coming closer.

"Emma!" Tom says.

I turn around and smile. "Hey, Tom. How'd it go?"

"Great, actually. You helped me a lot." he answers.

"What about the new topics?"

"I was able to study them last night." he says. "By the way, I'm sorry I didn't show up yesterday. Soccer practice went on for a half hour more than it was supposed to, and my phone was dead. By the time I got home, it was already too late."

"Don't worry about it, really." I say. "The important thing is that the test went well."

He smiles.

After a couple of seconds of silence, he asks, "So, what do you have next?"

"Ugh. I have two hours of French." I answer unenthusiastically. I like the language, but the teacher is just horrible. She gives us homework every day, the test are really hard, and she doesn't even teach that well. Basically she reads the information from our book and expects us to understand everything.

"Cool. Well, I guess I'll see you later." he says.

"Later?" I ask.

"Yeah." he answers. "We have English period together, remember?"

I shake my head in confusion. "Oh, right. Sorry."

He gives me another one of his dazzling smiles, then walks away.

Since it's Wednesday, I don't have any afternoon classes. Karen is on the bus with me but, like the last couple of days, she's distracted. It's like she's disconnected from the world. She could stare at the wall the whole day without paying attention to the teacher.

This behavior has been going on too long. On our way home, I decide to confront her.

"So, what's going on with you?" I ask her suddenly.

Her eyes widen as she looks at me in the eyes. I can see her eyes moisten, but she wipes them with her hands. "Nothing."

"Are you sure?" I ask. "If you need to talk, I'm right here."

"No, thanks." she answers. "I'm not in the mood."

I want to point out that she's been out of the mood for quite a long time now, but I restrain myself. Instead, I just nod. At least now I know that there's something she's not telling me. But I respect her decision of not telling me. When she's ready, she'll come to me and explain. I'm sure she will.

"Okay, don't worry about it." I say.

We stay in silence for the rest of the way home.

As I arrive home, I check my phone for new notifications, and see that Karen wrote me. I open WhatsApp and tap on Karen's name.

Hey, Emma

I'm sorry 4 earlier

I'm just still a little sad

I didn't tell U this, but my boyfriend cheated on me

I read the last message and gasp, but there are still a few massages.

U know we were doing long distance, right? Well, he told me that he had had a thing with 1 of his classmates

I broke up with him

That's why I've been like this lately

Sorry if I didn't tell U sooner

I type back quickly.

Oh, no!

I'm so sorry

Do U want me to come over?

I figure that she may need a shoulder to cry on. Or maybe she wants a person to talk her out of getting back together with her ex.

Since it's already almost one o'clock, I set the table. Then I open the fridge and look at what I can eat. Fortunately, my mother is at work, so I can eat on my own. I decide to make myself some pasta with pesto (home-made) and a salad. I get to work: I start boiling some water and chopping the lettuce. I put it in a bowl, then start cutting the tomatoes.

In the meantime, I start listening to my playlist. I guess it would be pretty funny to watch. You look up from the street and see a teenager dancing horribly with a piece of pasta stuck to her forehead and her eating a piece of tomato like a pig.

It's surprisingly all good. I'm not a really good cook, but I sometimes get more than decent results.

Like always, I clean the table and wash the dishes. Then I walk back upstairs. I really want to read, but I force myself to study a little English, since I have an interrogation tomorrow. It's boring, hard work, but I manage.

I check my phone again, and I see that Karen has seen my messages, but doesn't answer. My fingers are floating over the keyboard, thinking of something else to write Karen, when a notification pops up.

I tap on it. Surprisingly, Tom wrote me.

Hey, nerd. he writes.

Don't call me nerd. I type. I already told U that.

Why not? I think it's adorable. he writes back, and it takes me by surprise.

Fine, but I need a nickname 4 U 2 then.

What about Awesome McCute Face?

Nah. It doesn't have a good ring to it. Maybe Douchy McDick Face? It sounds much better.

You flatter me.

We keep texting each other, and I completely forget about studying English. I can't take my fingers off the keyboard, even thought I want to very much. We keep talking, making up ridiculous nicknames. In the end, we decide on calling me Nerd and him… Tommy. I know, it's not that great, but compared to come others we proposed, it's the best of the best. Actually, it was Tom who suggested the name, even thought I told him it makes him sound like a eight-year-old boy.

So, yeah. Tommy and I have a lot of fun.

What'cha doing? he asks me.

Texting U, duh.

Ha-ha. No, I meant other than texting.

I frown. Nothing. U?

Watching TV, he answers

Don't U have to study for English?

No. he answers simply.

Well, I have to. So I gotta go.

See ya. he types.

Bye. I turn off my phone and keep studying.

After almost two hours, I change in a pair of baggy gym pants and a simple pink tank top: my pajama. I go to the bathroom to wash my teeth and clean my face, and when I come back to my room and check my phone again.

I guess I'm not going to Karen's house then. After all, I had already changed, and I'm ready to slip into bed. But, of course, I don't sleep right away. As you already know, dear reader, I read. At ten o'clock exactly, I finish book number seventy-seven. I place back in my bookshelf and trace a small line on my small post-it.

Then I step in front of my bookcase and stare at the different books. At least half I haven't read yet, so I have a lot of choice. Unfortunately, I never know which one to choose.

I can't decide, so I do what I usually do when I can't pick: I close my eyes, spin around a few times (without breaking anything, thank you very much) and point forward. I suddenly stop and open my eyes to see where I'm pointing. I'm flattered, but I don't think I can read the mirror.

I try again, this time landing on one of the books. I take it out and read the first chapter, just to give me a taste of it. It's good: well written, good dialogue, funny, entertaining. Of course, I only read one chapter, but I pick up on things pretty well.

Finally, I turn off the lamp on the side of my bed and drift off.