Kate in Waiting Becky Albertalli (best way to read books TXT) 📖

makes every interaction feel wrong. Every move feels so loaded—too obnoxiously casual, too cringingly formal.

I can’t wimp out, though. Not anymore. And I’ve got to go big.

Mr. Edelman’s eyes drift back down to his lecture notes, and I stop thinking.

I just go for it.

I heave my whole body sideways, tipping my desk closer and closer toward Anderson’s, until it crashes down into the aisle between us. And for a minute, I sit there, startled. Yeah, okay, it was premeditated, but I didn’t actually think I’d go through with it. I can’t even do a trust fall. And now everyone in the whole class is looking at me.

I wonder if this is what it’s like to be Noah.

Raina gasps. “Holy fuck.” Brandie leaps out of her seat to help me up.

“Guys, can we please be more careful? Please?” asks Mr. Edelman, rubbing his chin wearily. “Kate, are you okay?”

“Absolutely,” I say quickly. “Totally fine. Can I go to the infirmary?”

Lana Bennett eyes me suspiciously from across the room. “You just said you’re totally fine.”

“I am. Totally fine. But you never know, right? Internal bleeding and stuff?” I pick my desk back up and slide it into its place. “I think I better get checked out, just to be on the safe side.”

Mr. Edelman sighs. “I’ll write you a hall pass.”

“Thanks! Would you mind writing one for Anderson, too? I might need some help.”

I can practically feel Anderson’s surprised gaze, but I force myself to stare straight ahead. Mr. Edelman closes his eyes briefly. “Why not? Anything else? Should we call an ambulance?”

“Hey,” says Jack Randall, “how about a whaaaaaaaaaambulance—”

Raina kicks his chair leg. “Shut up.”

“You okay?” Brandie whispers, brows knitted.

“I’ll text you,” I mouth.

“Okay, here you go. Hall passes for Kate and Anderson.”

I jump up—and then catch myself, forcing a wince, like I stepped on my ankle wrong. It’s such obvious bullshit—at least I think it’s obvious—but maybe I’m a better actress than I thought. Because Anderson hooks his arm around my waist and says, “Try not to put weight on it.”

I smile up at him. “Got it.”

“Why are you making that face?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you in juuuuuuust a second.”

He side-eyes me. “I’m intrigued.”

We make slow progress out of Mr. Edelman’s room, but the minute we’re out of sight distance, I wriggle out of Anderson’s arm. “Okay, you know I’m totally fine, right?”

“I was getting there.” He raises his eyebrows. “What’s up?”

“I had to break us out of there.”

Anderson looks like he’s trying not to smile. “It’s Mr. Edelman. You can just leave.”

“I know,” I say. “But I wanted you to come with me.”

“To the BTF?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I just—I want to talk where I can see your face.”

“It’s a good face.”

I push him lightly, and then clutch my arm, yelping, “Ouch!”

Anderson’s eyes get huge. “Oh shit. Are you actually hurt?”

“Just kidding.” I smile. “Hey. Okay. Do you want to leave campus?”

“Leave campus? Wow, Garfield.”

“I know, I know. But hear me out. What if we go to Target to grab party supplies—”

“Party supplies?”

“For your birthday, dummy.” I grab his hand. “Come on, side door.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “I’m not having a party.”

“Excuse me?” I gape at him. “Why not?”

“Because it’s the second night of the play. There’s no way we’ll even be home before eleven.”

“It’s your seventeenth birthday!”

“We’ll celebrate at the cast party on Sunday.”

“What? No. We’re having a party. I don’t care if we have to start at midnight. We’ll live like f-boys. And we’re going to Target.” I pause by the door, peering around. “All clear.”

Anderson slips through the side door behind me. “Why are you so dead set on us going to Target?”

“To get supplies,” I remind him.

“Right now? During history? And this was worth knocking over a desk?”

I nod. “Yes. Because I’m about to apologize to you—like majorly apologize to you, before I totally wimp out.” I exhale. “And I need to do that in the car.”

Andy looks at me, opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. Then he smiles, just barely. “I thought you wanted us to talk in a place where we could look at each other’s faces.”

“Well, I want to be able to see your face so I can read your reaction,” I say, following him through the parking lot, “but yeah, no—I don’t want you to see my face. In case I start crying. So that means you’re driving or I’m wearing a mask.”

“Ooh, I liked that giant unicorn mask head we saw at—”

“Don’t you dare. You shut up. I don’t want to talk about that unicorn head.”

For a minute, Andy just looks at me smiling, one hand on the hood of his car.

“It was alive,” I remind him.

And it’s only when we’re tucked into our usual seats that it hits me: we haven’t done this for ages. Just Andy and me in the car. My passenger seat. My little home. Andy doesn’t say a word as we pull out of school, and at first I think he’s worried we’ll get caught. But even when we pull onto Hardscrabble Road, he’s silent. It takes a minute before I realize he’s waiting for me to speak.

It’s like a spotlight blinking on. My heart flips, and then beats faster. I just need to spit it out. The apology I’ve been dancing around for days. I don’t even know why I’m nervous. It’s not like I have to beg for Anderson’s forgiveness. He’s clearly not mad at me. At least not anymore. I know exactly where he stands. But just because someone forgives you doesn’t mean you don’t have to apologize.

Okay, now. Right now. I’m just going to—

“I can’t believe you aren’t going to have a birthday party,” I blurt.

Baby steps.

Andy laughs, but it’s the kind of laugh that snags on itself. “I mean, I’d only be inviting you guys, and Brandie and Raina don’t know my boyfriend is my boyfriend, so it’s not like Matt and I really get to relax. And you.” He pauses. “You were mad at me.”

“I’m