Fourteen by C.M. Smith (english novels to read .txt) 📗

He turned on his heel, walking in the direction of the front door. He stopped and I walked in front of him, standing on the second step and waiting for him to stand in front of me. He stuck his arm out, and I placed my hand on his wrist and looked at his shoulder.

“We should probably do a few control questions, so that we both know what to expect.”

“What should I start with? Lie or truth?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

He pursed his lips and twisted them to the side. I hated the way my heart skipped a beat and the way I wanted to smile. He looked like the boy I used to know when he did that. Evan’s face smoothed out after a moment, and he shifted his weight on his feet, standing up straight.

“My name is Evan Drake.”

I studied him as I slowly pushed down on his arm, noting the way his face was completely relaxed, and it took no effort whatsoever to push his arm to his side.

“That was the truth,” I said, more to help myself remember the little details than anything else.

“I know my own damn name.”

“No, I know. I just . . .” I shook my head to clear it. “Never mind.”

He rolled his eyes, stuck his arm out once more, and I replaced my hand on his wrist.

“I am a geek.”

I repressed the urge to roll my eyes as I pushed down on his arm, noting the way his eyes tightened at the corners and his lips pursed slightly. It was harder to push his arm down and even his shoulders seemed rigid.

“Great,” I mumbled, letting go of his wrist and standing up straight once more.

“Truth or lie?” he challenged.

“Lie,” I said through my teeth.

He nodded, satisfied, and stuck out his arm again. “Do you have enough of a grip on what to expect now or should we continue on with the controls?”

“I have all the information I need from you. You might have to do the same to me when it comes to that.”

The smug look on his face fell, and he scowled at me, sticking his arm out once more. I felt a mild satisfaction from ruffling his feathers and put my hand on his wrist again.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

He shifted on his feet.

“I love my car.”

I slowly pushed down on his arm as he said it, checking all the factors of his face that I’d picked out before.

Truth.

He raised his arm again. “I think you’re beautiful.”

I studied his face, feeling the tears build up in the back of my throat. His lips were stretched into a thin line, his arm was nearly impossible to push down, and every inch of him was rigid.

Lie.

“I forgot my notebook.” I managed to say, my voice thankfully even as I pushed by him and walked into the kitchen again.

I grabbed my notebook from the table, my bottom lip trembling and my eyesight blurry as I groped for the pen I knew was supposed to be right beside it. A small sob left me, and I dropped my notebook, slapping my hands over my mouth and closing my eyes tightly as I turned my back on the entrance of the room.

“Arianna?”

He was in there with me again, and I composed myself, sucking in deep breaths and digging my fingers into my eyes.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked, keeping my back to him.

“Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” I asked as casually as I could manage, pressing both hands over my heart, prepared to do my best to keep it intact for as long as I could.

“I don’t hate you—”

“What did I ever do to you?” I continued, shrugging off his lie. “I’ve never said one bad word about you to anyone, never made fun of you when we were little and at our worst. I’ve never done anything to deserve the way you treat me, and I don’t understand.”

“It’s not about you—”

“Yeah right, it isn’t about me,” I said, disbelief coloring my tone before I turned to face him. “I’m a waste of space, or I’d crush you if I sat on you, right? Isn’t that what you and Steve said? Just because I’m heavier and I keep to myself, you all have the right to say these things to me?”

“It’s just . . .”

“Just what, Evan?” I asked. “I’m just not good enough for you or your friends, right? So you’re perfectly justified in saying those things to me because you don’t think I’m good enough to talk to anymore. I tried to help you.” I swallowed hard and ran my hands through my hair. “I tried to be the better person because I could see that you were having a bad day, and all I wanted to do was help you out. Instead, you grab my wrist, bruise me, and insult me. How do you justify that?”

I turned to the side, wiping away the tears that had traveled down my cheeks during my rant.

“You can go,” I said when he failed to say anything. “I’ll talk to Mr. Streeter tomorrow and see if we can switch partners for this.”

“No,” he said. “We’ve already started—”

“Yeah, we got really far, didn’t we?” I said sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m sure it won’t be a big deal.”

“No,” he said again, his voice stronger. “Everyone else has already started, and no one will want to switch at this point.”

“To work with you? I’m sure any of them will switch in a heartbeat. Maybe you can even join someone else’s project.”

“And what will you do?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You’d be doing all the work yourself, on top of the work we’d have to get done for class. That’s not fair.”

“Since when have you cared about what’s fair to me?” I asked, my voice low, even, and monotone. “I am nothing to you, Evan, and you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“Arianna . . .”

“I don’t want you here,” I said,