No One Needs to Know Read Online Free

assigned yesterday, glancing over the worksheet. It had been an easy task, really, writing the Spanish words next to a variety of modes of transportation.
    Samantha, a girl I used to do projects with during freshman year, drops into her seat beside me.
    I swallow. “Hey, Sofia,” I say, using her Spanish name.
    She blinks and meets my eyes, like she just realized I was sitting here. We’ve been sitting beside one another for two weeks. Have I not even said hello to her yet?
    “Uh,” I say, suddenly realizing I have nothing intelligent to say. “What did you get for number ten? It was totally hard, right?”
    She glances down at her homework, and then opens her mouth to say something, when her friend “Camila” sits down in the row in front of us.
    “Zorra,” Camila quips. Sofia tries not to laugh, but it comes out like a strangled cough.
    Slut.
    Camila just called me a fucking slut. In Spanish.
    My cheeks burn and I try to come up with something to say—some way to burn her back—but I come up empty. So I jerk my gaze away, staring down my homework.
    Slut.
    I am never going to live it down. No matter what Olivia has to say about it.
    I was right about her, and I’m right about me.

OLIVIA
    He forgot.
    I can’t believe he forgot.
    I’m sitting on the curb in front of the Grand Cinema, trying to ignore the clouds that have rolled in and the raindrop that just fell on my cheek. Rope lights outline movie posters behind me, but it’s not dark enough yet to cast shadows.
    He forgot.
    I don’t know why it burns like this, like some deep, lingering betrayal, but as I glance at my phone again and confirm that the movie started ten minutes ago, I can’t escape the way my chest hurts.
    We haven’t missed a Friday night independent movie in … two years?
    I text him for a third time: Where are you?
    I count to thirty before tucking the phone back into my purse. Liam is completely MIA. I pull the two tickets out of my pocket and rip them, again and again and again, growing even more upset as I shred them so many times, they’re pretty much dust when I’m done. I hold my hands out to the breeze and let the paper flutter to the cement at my feet.
    That’s my day, right there, ripped to shreds and forgotten in the gutter. Between stupid Zoey Thomasson and those two girls in the hall and my brother’s failure to show, this is officially the worst day ever.
    There’s no way Zoey’s right. I know she thinks she was, based on that little show in the hall, but they could’ve just been surprised, not afraid. If they were actually afraid of me, they would’ve, like, run or something. It’s not as if I can even be intimidating. I’m five foot four. And no one clad in a schoolgirl uniform is scary looking. It’s physically impossible.
    I stand up and step onto the sidewalk. I walked up here after gymnastics practice. It’s like a mile and a half, but it was such a pretty afternoon, the late-summer sun waning, and I thought the fresh air would help me unwind.
    But I’d planned on having a ride home, since our condo it a full three miles away. I could call a cab, but I’m so angry … so wound up … that I don’t want to bother.
    Instead I dig into my purse, pulling out the purple pill box that Zoey almost saw. I fish out one pill, pop it in my mouth, and swallow without needing a sip from the water bottle buried somewhere in my enormous handbag.
    I know it’s not instantaneous. Xanax doesn’t work like that. But just knowing it’s in my stomach, that it’ll kick in fifteen minutes or so from now, is enough to let me rake in a long breath and feel my shoulders unwind.
    I stomp away from the theater and head toward Stadium Way, wondering if my brother somehow lost track of time and is still at school. But that’s ridiculous. Classes at Stadium High end about the same time as they do at Annie Wright.
    For the millionth time, I wish Annie Wright were coed at the high school level. It’s coed up to junior high, but