Adrian Lessons Read Online Free Page A

says, glancing at my face again. At least once person on the sidewalk has crossed to the other side of the street at the sight of my face. Marie, though, is holding up well. “How many did you even take?”
    “Two,” I grouse.
    She winces.
    “On my way to lunch I stopped Clarissa Williams just to start an argument about taxes, based on a comment she made in econ class. Our freshman year . She had no idea what was going on.” I sigh and rub my forehead. I am in desperate need of another long night with Mr. Flix. “And that’s nothing compared to what I did in Psych lab. I wrote my number on a guy’s hand. In food coloring. And then made out with him in front of everyone.”
    “Was he cute?” Marie asks.
    “That’s missing the point by about eight hundred miles. Food coloring , Marie. And I remember him being cute, but I also remember being asked what time it was by a giant owl, so he probably has three heads and is covered in barnacles.”
    I elect to keep the little fact that he was the one who walked in on me on Friday to myself. Sharing is caring, but there’s only so much more embarrassment I can stand.
    “There was a basketball home game today—they had someone wear an Ollie the Owl suit to try and get people to go to the game. You know, our school mascot?” Marie is smirking now. I resist the temptation to kick her into the street. “Besides, barnacles could be hot, if you’re into the pirate theme. Has he called you yet?”
    I push my phone deeper into my pocket. I have definitely not checked my phone fourteen times in the past hour. Not me. “No. Considering my mental state at the time, I probably wrote down Netflix’s customer service hotline instead.”
    “Considering your mental state at the time, I’d be amazed if you could remember that,” she muses.
    Only fools doubt my commitment to Netflix.
    We reach Loco Tacos, complete with a roof that looks like a sombrero and a front door decorated with red-and-green Christmas lights, just as a phone buzzes. I go for mine at the same time Marie does, but it’s hers.
    She answers. “Hey…oh…no, damn, I totally forgot…yeah, I’m on my way! Sorry!”
    Which are never words you want to hear from someone about to treat you to tacos.
    She hangs up and turns full-blown puppy eyes on me. “I’m gonna have to bail, Cleo. Totally forgot I have a meeting for my Austen Seminar group project tonight. I’d skip it, but it’s the first time our schedules have aligned all semester, and the proposal is due—”
    I wave off her paltry excuses. “Don’t worry about. I’ll just go cry in bed and finish season four of Parks and Rec.”
    “No, you will not,” she says firmly, shoving a fistful of cash at me. “I really do feel bad about the Xanax. And you’re still stuffed up—you need something spicy to clear your sinuses. Buy yourself some tacos. On me.”
    “Solo Loco Tacos. An interesting proposition.” Although after my horrible day, the idea of sitting along and stuffing myself with beef and cheese sounds perfect. “I accept. The cash, as well as your apology.”
    She kisses my cheek, standing on tiptoe to do it. “And when you get back, you can work on finishing that scene.”
    I almost huff at her, but before I can, she’s halfway across the street. Smart girl. I turn and go through the door.
    “Just me and my shame,” I tell the boy in a beaded sombrero who asks how many people will be joining me. He seats me by the window, where I have a perfect view of the inglorious main street of Westby, Massachusetts—its only claim to fame the delectable foreign cuisine and, I guess, Statham.
    I’m far from the typical Statham student, who is Jewish, rich, a little neurotic but still willing to party. Though I am willing to party on occasion, I’m definitely not rich. Or Jewish. The jury’s still out on neurotic.
    While I’m waiting for my triple order of heaven, a.k.a beef and cheese tacos with a margarita to wash it down, I slide out my