Read A Map of the Known World for Free Online

back in surprise. Damian. He lifts his chin slowly in greeting and begins to move toward me, deliberately weaving through the throngs of students. My knees quiver and my stomach takes a turn. I look around, as if help was going to arrive (which it’s not), but I can’t stir from my spot.
    Feet, let’s go, I plead with myself. They won’t move, though; they are firmly rooted to the grassy field. Why does Damian do this to me?
    When he reaches me, I can’t help but stare down at the ground awkwardly. When I glance up to meet his eyes, I find him studying me carefully, tensed as though afraid I might run away—which I very much want to do, if only it weren’t for my stupid, stubborn, mutinous feet.
    “Hi, Cora,” he says softly.
    “Hi,” I reply, my voice barely a whisper, my stomach still roiling.
    “How are you? How’s—” He stops and clears his throat. “How’s your family?”
    “Everyone is fine. We’re all fine,” I say, my voice pitched in that hard, shaky tone I get when I lie.
    “That’s good,” he replies, gazing at me closely.
    “Huh,” I grunt.
    “What?” he asks.
    “Like you care,” I mutter darkly.
    Damian takes a step back, recoiling as if I’ve slapped him. His eyes fill with a look of hurt that pricks me down to my soul. There’s so much hurt to go around.
    I feel like I’m melting. I wish I were melting. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It’s just…” I shake my head and focus on the ground. “Anyway, how about you?” I ask.
    “What about me?” Damian replies, uncertain.
    “How are you?”
    His shoulders had been hunched, and they relax a bit now. “Oh, okay. You know.” He shifts his weight and looks up at me. “So, uh, how do you like art class so far?”
    My stomach lurches. It feels wrong to share something—anything—with Damian. Even something as harmless and unavoidable as art class. But his face is open, and somehow I can’t muster my rage just now.
    “It seems like it’ll be okay, right?” I ask.
    “Yeah, I think so.” Damian gives a small laugh. When he smiles, his eyes go all squinty. His strange gray eyes look almost silver in the twilight. And when he smiles the straight angles and high planes of his cheekbones and jaw seem softer.
    He is handsome, if a little unusual-looking, with his crooked nose, broad cheeks, smooth coffee-and-milk complexion, and short curly hair. I never really noticed that before. And he looks older. Older, but lost a little bit, too.
    Stupid stomach doing gymnastics.
    “Well, we’ll see.” I stare into his face, while my mind turns circles trying to understand what Damian is doing here, talking to me. Why did he cross the field to speak to me when in all the years he was Nate’s best friend, he practically ignored me? And when, now, I see him standing in front of me, I can’t help but hate him just for being able to stand here.
    We are both silent. I wonder if he knows what I’m thinking. I peer down at my watch; I have to squint to make out thenumbers in the dying light. Quarter to ten. “Look, I should go. My mom is probably waiting for me,” I tell Damian. Without waiting for a response, I walk away, silently chastising myself. What am I doing talking to him? He’s bad news.
    Somehow, though, thinking of him as a monster has now become just a little bit harder.
    I suppose I should find Rachel. But the number of students has grown, and as I push through the crowd, everything starts to feel crooked, as if the earth is tilted and I’m in a fun house. I’m dizzy and all the kids I pass seem to be laughing at me, turning leering faces with twisted grimaces on me. I spin around, vainly looking for Rachel. Then I stop. Get ahold of yourself. I take a deep breath and sweep my eyes over the crowd.
    There she is, standing off to the side of a narrow circle of bodies near the fire. She is smiling, but I can tell that it is pasted on. Her hair has flattened in the warm, humid air, and she holds her hands clasped in front