Once Again Read Online Free Page A

The
conversation with Jessie had already revealed way too much of my
interest in Lucas Ellis.
    All through chemistry, I was painfully aware
of the minutes ticking by. Every click of a pencil on a desk and
every scrape of a chair moving against the floor set my nerves on
edge. Though I told myself it was because I disliked the class, I
knew it was a lie. I was in a hurry for this period to end because
my next class was literature.
    With Lucas.
    Thankfully, I paid enough attention to get
the homework assignment written down in my notebook. As the bell
rang, Jessie handed me a slip of paper with her phone number on it,
and instructions to call her tonight if I had trouble with it.
    Bless Jessie. Both for her fast friendship,
and her science expertise.
    I went to my locker, trying not to hurry.
Rushing through the visit with Marsha and Tiffany and sprinting to
my next class would be a colossal show of stupidity. But geez, the
five-minute break between classes seemed longer than fifty minutes
of chemistry.
    I deliberately slowed my steps as I
approached my lit class. The bookworms were in the same spots as
yesterday, books already out and open. The texting girls were still
up front, fingers flying across the keys of their cell phones.
    One of them had bathed in a sticky, floral
smelling perfume, strong enough to make my eyes water. Sheesh. As
if a guy’s going to be attracted to you just because you smell like
a florist’s shop.
    And Lucas was again on the far side of the
room, clearing his books from the desk beside him when he saw me
walk in.
    It was easier today to make the walk across
the room. I didn’t feel like I was being beckoned by a guy used to
getting his way with girls. I felt like a boy who for some reason
wanted to be kind to me was inviting me.
    Good grief. This could be trouble. If I
started having delusions of grandeur about a guy two social classes
above me, I was doomed to disappointment and embarrassment.
    Sliding into the seat next to him, I searched
for something witty to say. Small-talk under pressure had never
been my forte.
    “Hey,” I said. “I’m happy to report that I
haven’t seen Miller-the-idiot this morning.”
    My words sounded ridiculous. Inane. I
should’ve stopped with “hey”. Suddenly the fluorescent lights
seemed like heat lamps as I felt my face heat from awkwardness.
    “You won’t see him down this hall a lot,”
Lucas chuckled. “He’s not much into the advanced courses.”
    I took that to mean that Miller was either
stupid or lazy, or a combination of both.
    Lucas continued. “Your dad owns the big music
store downtown, right?”
    Again, he surprised me with the knowledge he
already had about my life. Of course, Sky Cove wasn’t a huge
metropolis, so he’d probably just heard it around town. It didn’t
mean he was interested enough to go searching for information about
me on his own.
    “Right,” I answered, reaching in my backpack
for my book and the folder I’d labeled for this class. Looking back
at him, I couldn’t resist a lingering look at his deep brown eyes.
Since I was looking straight at him, I figured I better say
something else. I decided on my dad’s new slogan. “Vintage and new
guitars and amps, and everything else you might need to start a
rock band.”
    Actually, my dad was now the owner of String
City, a thriving business specializing in guitars, both new and
old. Kind of strange to find a booming music store in the middle of
small-town Maine, but the place had built a reputation over the
years, and people were willing to travel to do business here. The
previous owner was a guitarist my dad met in Nashville. He’d been
in town often to do studio work, which is how my dad knew him. When
he decided to move near his daughter and grandkids in Texas, he
offered to sell the store to my dad.
    And my dad was thrilled. Studio work was
beginning to dry up for him as a new generation of musicians
emerged, and he wanted out of the rat race anyway. A guitar