Tell Me Three Things Read Online Free Page B

too. Measuring something. Seeing if I’m worth his time. I blink, look down, nod back, give him the slightest smile as a thanks. I turn forward again and use all of my willpower not to put my hands against my cheeks to cool them down.
    I spend the rest of class wondering why the Batman picked me. Maybe I look smart? And if I look smart, does that mean I look dorky? I mentally scan my outfit: plaid button-down, Gap jeans cuffed up, my old beat-up Vans. My Chicago uniform, minus the heavy jacket. Nothing too telling there, especially now that I’m scrunchie-free. My first instinct is that, for whatever reason, he’s just doing a good deed. I must have looked pathetic, wildly scanning the room for a willing face, especially after he saw me getting bitched out by Gem earlier and embarrassing myself on the first day of school. Even Ken Abernathy, who according to SN has a farting problem, found a partner immediately.
    When the bell rings and we’re all packing up our laptops—of course I’m the only one here without a fancy, slim computer—the Batman stops at my desk, stares me down again with those killer eyes. Am I just imagining that they have a sociopathic hint to them? He can’t be that mean. Picking me was actually a nice thing to do. I don’t remember taking the time to befriend a new kid back home. Hot and nice. That. Is. So. Not. Good.
    I realize just in time that I need to stop staring and speak up.
    “So do you want to exchange numbers or something?” I ask, and hate the nervous lilt in my voice that makes me sound way too much like the girls who gather around him at lunchtime. It’s just that I haven’t really spoken much in weeks. Scarlett and I mostly text. My dad has been so busy looking for a new job and spending time with his new wife that we’ve barely seen each other. He’s not my favorite person right now anyway. I don’t like this new version of him, distracted and married to a stranger, forcing me into an unrecognizable life without a say in the matter.
    And that’s it. The sum total of people left in my world.
    “Nah. I’ll just do the assignment and put both of our names on it.” This guy doesn’t wait for my okay. He just nods again, like I’ve said yes. Like he asked and I answered a question.
    Right. Maybe not so nice after all.
    “But—” But what?
I was looking forward to being your partner? I like your serial killer eyes?
Or worst of all:
Please?
I don’t finish speaking. Just look back down at my leather book bag, which I thought was cool until I got here and realized everyone else’s was a fancy French brand that you hear about in rap songs.
    “Don’t worry. You’ll get an A.”
    Then the Batman walks out so fast that it’s almost like I imagined him there. Some perverse version of a superhero. And I am left alone to gather up my stuff, wondering how long it will be till someone talks to me again.
    Me: It will get better, right? Eventually, it will get better.
    Scarlett: I’m sorry I’m not the type to lower our discourse to emoji use since you totally deserve a smiley face right now. Yes, it will get better.
    Me: Ha. It’s just. Whatever. Sorry to keep whining.
    Scarlett: That’s what I’m here for. BTW, that email you forwarded? My guess: TOTALLY A SECRET ADMIRER.
    Me: You’ve read too many books. I’m being set up. And stop YELLING AT ME.
    Scarlett: No way. I didn’t say he was a vampire. I said he was a secret admirer. Most def.
    Me: Wanna take bets?
    Scarlett: You should just know by now that I’m always right. It’s my one magic power.
    Me: What’s mine?
    Scarlett: TBD.
    Me: Thanks a lot.
    Scarlett: Kidding. You are strong. That’s your power, girl.
    Me: My arms are v. toned from stress-eating ALL the cookies. Hand to mouth. Repeat 323 times. Hard-core workout.
    Scarlett: Seriously, for a second, J? Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ask for help sometimes. Remember that. I’m here, ALWAYS, but you might want to take up that