Read Jack & Louisa: Act 1 for Free Online Page B

excruciating to recount; it didn’t mean I had a crush on him.
    • • •
    I came home from Jenny’s that evening to find that the universe had been merciful once again.
    “No one was home,” Mom said, referring to Jack’s house, “so I just left the plant on their stoop with a note.”
    I should have known then that the universe wouldn’t be merciful forever. It always strikes a balance.
    • • •
    I awoke the first day of seventh grade with the familiar knot in my stomach of nerves and excitement. It wasn’t the same as what I would get before going onstage; that always felt more like a twisted mop. Still, I was keyed up enough to only nibble at my multigrain waffles and then reorganize my backpack at least three times.
    “I’m so glad you decided to put your highlighters in the outside pocket,” Dad teased. “Keeping them in the inside pocket would have guaranteed a C-average for the year.”
    “Bite your tongue!” Mom shrieked, grabbing a snack-size bag of baby carrots from the fridge. Despite my intense hatred of math, I had been a straight-A student since grades first appeared on my report cards. Nevertheless, my mother was always nervous that I would suddenly turn into some kind of delinquent.
    “Don’t worry, Mom. Cs ain’t for me,” I teased, hoping my deliberate use of poor grammar would make her laugh. It did.
    • • •
    Normally I had to take the bus to school, but my parents always treated me to a ride on the first day. They also let me choose the music, so I decided to kick off seventh grade with some
Matilda
. (The anguished wailing of schoolchildren seemed more than appropriate.)
    Eight minutes in the car and it was time. Good-byes, good lucks, up the walkway and through the double doors, and I was officially in seventh grade. Jenny appeared magically out of nowhere, sporting the ladybug skirt we had both agreed she should wear.
    “I had a feeling you’d match that headband with that shirt,” she said, regarding my outfit.
    “Are you saying I’m predictable?”
    “I don’t think I have to. Plus that’s the combo they used on one of the mannequins at Gap Kids.”
    Busted.
    “So, listen,” she said, grabbing my elbow and pulling me to the left as a large eighth-grader lumbered by, “I heard there’ve been a couple changes to our homeroom list.”
    “Like what?” I asked, dodging the eighth-grader’s equally large friend who followed after.
    Jenny adjusted her belt, smoothed her hair, and rubbed her lips together, preparing to make her grand
Project Runway
–style entrance into our homeroom.
    “I don’t know exactly,” she said, “but I know Steph isn’t in our room anymore—she’s in Mr. Ross’s.”
    “That’s too bad,” I said, distracted by a gnawing feeling in my gut. Last-minute changes to our homeroom list could mean a lot more than just the loss of Steph.
    And it did—I knew it as soon as I stood at the entrance of Mrs. Lamon’s homeroom. With my predictably matching Gap Kids shirt and headband, highlighters nestled snugly in the outer pocket of my backpack, and the songs from
Matilda
still ringing in my ears. I understood why I’d had no trouble avoiding Jack for the past two weeks. That had only been a tease, a Post-it note from the heavens saying, “Enjoy this while it lasts.” I had not set one foot inside my new homeroom and already the year was off to a very uncomfortable start: There was Jack, sitting at a desk in the front row, looking at me like he might throw up.

–JACK–
    I heard a tiny gasp from the doorway. I looked over to find, frozen, in an embroidered top and white-bowed headband, none other than my dreaded neighbor. Our eyes locked. I clenched my teeth, suddenly wishing for telepathic powers, hoping to broadcast my need for her to not blab to the class about our first encounter. But before she could get a chance to say a word, a middle-aged woman with a short haircut and Asian-looking pantsuit brushed past us.
    “Good