Unforgettable Read Online Free Page B

glaring back at me. “You going in or do you plan on spending your whole day here?”
    I grab my backpack and leap out of the bus without touching the steps. The door closes immediately behind me and I’m standing in front of a three-story building with a faded brick exterior the color of ash. As far away as we are from California, I still have this sick feeling that I’m going to turn around and see Dink standing behind me. Or maybe he’ll be waiting in the parking lot with a loaded pistol. I feel safer in large groups, so I join the flow of students into the school, being careful to stay in the middle, and I have just enough time to go to my locker before the first bell rings.
    We haven’t had any assignments yet in Science class; we’ve just spent the past two days taking notes from the overhead projector. I open my five-subject notebook and copy the outline, although it’s a pain to do. I mean, what’s the point? But I’d look like a slacker if I didn’t, so I scribble away like everyone else. At least taking notes helps kill time until I see Halle and keeps me from getting too anxious. Once I tried an exercise with Dr. Anderson where I wrote down my memories and then burned the paper as a means of getting rid of them. It didn’t work.
    I have two more classes after Science, and the morning drags by. The clocks are slow in all the classrooms and that bugs me, so I avoid looking at them or I’ll be tempted to get up on a chair and adjust the time.
    At 11:06 I hurry from homeroom, a twenty-five minute study hall that most students use for catching up with friends. I show Mrs. Algren my pass and wait at a small table in the middle of the library, which is also the computer center.
    I have an empty piece of paper in front of me, a sharpened number-two pencil, and my copy of Gatsby open facedown. To say that I’m nervous is an understatement.
    I size up every girl who enters the library; first, a thin girl with glasses and long, blond hair. She’s laughing and clinging to a guy so I doubt that’s Halle. Another girl with black hair and black lipstick and red streaks in her hair. She passes me without making eye contact.
    I hold my book in the air as two more girls enter the library. They smile at me in a friendly way but walk by. At 11:12 another girl enters. She zones in on the book at my table and walks purposefully toward me. I focus on her face for any hint of recognition. Nothing is familiar in any obvious way. She has light brown hair instead of blond pigtails like the Halle Phillips I used to know. A red barrette holds back her bangs. The ends of her hair brush the top of her shoulders. She’s way too beautiful to be the girl I remember. The Halle Phillips I knew had a button nose and her knee socks kept falling down. This girl has a sloped nose that turns up at the end, high cheekbones, and a curvy waist. In fact, she has far more curves than the Halle Phillips I knew, but then again, kindergartners don’t have curves. She’s wearing a short skirt and her long legs are sockless.
    â€œI’m Halle,” she says.
    It’s the same girl but everything about her is different. For one thing, she’s hot. But it’s her voice that makes me lean forward. She still sounds like yellow daffodils, sweet and creamy and fresh. My own voice catches and I creak out a small “Hi, I’m Baxter.”
    She sits down across from me and points at my book. “One thing you need to know is that everyone says Shaw’s class is hard, but he’s one of the most respected teachers here. And once you figure out how to take his tests, you won’t have a problem. So don’t freak out that you got a bad score on the first one.”
    I nod, still taking in the scent of her voice.
    â€œMy sister had him, and he doesn’t ask the mundane questions like ‘What color is Daisy’s hair?’ or ‘How big is Gatsby’s