I Swear Read Online Free

on this day, I was already in the hallway with my bag.
    Running.

4. JAKE
    I hate treadmills. Boring as hell. I want to be headed somewhere when I run.
    Running before school in Seattle is tricky. During the winter it’s cold and in the spring I’m drenched, but I’m not afraid of a little water, and once you get going, you warm up pretty quick.
    Besides, when I don’t run, I can feel it.
    I could feel it when I was sitting in class and couldn’t concentrate enough to take notes. I could feel it when I saw Leslie in the hallway and she ignored me. I could feel it when Brad let loose with some crack and Coach made the whole team stay for an extra scrimmage.
    When I run, none of that crap gets to me.
    The farther I run, the smaller my problems get.
    I know it’s all about the chemicals in my brain and the waymy body deals with stress, but it seems way simpler than that. When I wake up and run, something shifts. And I don’t mean the things in my life magically get better. Or even change.
    It’s more like I change.
    It’s not a big change. It’s a tiny shift—like when my mom moves a picture frame a couple of inches to the right so that it’s hanging level on the wall again. Before she does that, it’s like all you can see in the whole living room—that crooked picture. Once it’s fixed, all you notice is the picture. You don’t spend time thinking about how screwed up it looks—just who’s inside the frame.
    Running is like that. It makes me see all the same stuff—really see it—without thinking about how screwed up it is.
    This morning was warmer than it had been, and when the alarm went off at six a.m., I rolled out and pulled on the shorts and long-sleeve running shirt I had set out last night after I got back from Leslie’s. I grabbed my Nano and headed downstairs to pull on my shoes by the front door.
    As I passed Jillian’s door, I heard something and stopped. The door to the media room was cracked open a bit and I could see a light in the corner. It was coming from the laptop Jillian and I share. My eyes were full of sleep crap, so I rubbed them and finally focused on Beth on the air mattress in the corner, peering at the screen. Her shoulders were shaking. The sound I’d heard was her sniffing.
    I thought about asking her if she was okay, but Krista waspassed out next to her and Katherine was on the pull-out. Besides, Beth is always okay—or isn’t interested in talking about if she isn’t okay.
    The sun was already coming up when I hit the sidewalk outside our house and started down the block. I love mornings like this in Seattle—you can see Mount Hood from the hill where we live, and when it’s clear and the sun starts coming up, you get this awesome view that reminds you why it’s not so bad to put up with the rain the rest of the time. The air was fresh and I thought about Leslie and wondered what time she’d made it to Portland last night.
    I’d begged her to let me come.
    “It’ll just be easier if you’re not involved,” she said.
    “But I am involved,” I said.
    She sighed and looked down at the floor. I hooked a finger under her chin and gently pulled it up toward my face. One more time I leaned in close to her. One more time I tried to kiss her. One more time she pulled away.
    “Jake, don’t.”
    I stepped back and shook my head. “I don’t get you.”
    “I know,” she said.
    “What’s wrong with me?”
    “Nothing, Jake. Everything is right with you.”
    “Then why won’t you kiss me?”
    She didn’t have an answer. She never did.
    •  •  •
    Thinking about Leslie crying late last night made me push my speed so I could get back home to shoot her a text. Mile six was a killer, but I punched through it and was walking the last block to cool down when Macie rounded the corner in her black 5 Series Bimmer, trying to break the sound barrier. If I hadn’t been paying attention, I’d have stepped off the curb and been run over, but I stopped short as she