Read When the World was Flat (and we were in love) for Free Online Page A

chip, but it was a chip nonetheless.
    I dropped my lip and stared at myself in the mirror, realizing I had finally crossed the line between dreams and reality.
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    I thought about my chipped tooth all morning, touching it with my finger or tongue and checking it in the bathroom mirror. It was at the forefront of my mind until I saw Tom at his locker after third period, and then my mind was filled with thoughts about him instead.
    He was wearing another pair of torn designer jeans, which I guessed were worth upwards of a few hundred bucks.
    â€œAnd I get sent home for having my skirt too short,” Sylv complained, suddenly a cheerleader for the dress code and its clause on torn jeans.
    â€œYou could see your underwear,” Jo pointed out.
    â€œTurnip should have been thankful I was wearing underwear at all.”
    We laughed and Tom turned. I stopped laughing when he said my name.
    â€œLillie.”
    I was surprised he knew it, but at the same time it was as if the word had passed his lips a thousand times, his rounded accent rolling over the syllables with an ease that comes with familiarity. He was hardly at ease though, as he looked at the girls.
    â€œSee you at lunch,” Jo said meaningfully, before dragging Sylv off stage left.
    I turned to my locker, busying myself with the combination. I could feel his eyes on me and I let my hair fall forward like a curtain to hide my flushed face. It seemed like an hour before I found my textbook. Luckily, my tampons were safe and sound in their new hiding place on the top shelf. There would be no earplug jokes today, thank you. In fact, the comedy routine had also been shelved.
    I held my textbook to my chest like a shield as I closed my locker door.
    Tom was waiting for my full attention. “I believe I was rude to you yesterday,” he said formally.
    â€œYou think?” I asked rudely. Ironic, I know.
    His pinched expression made it as clear as a New York billboard that his apologies were as rare as his smile. He probably wanted to maintain his image of being a gentleman, given he was into picking up handkerchiefs for damsels in distress, or at least tampons and photos.
    I sighed. “Forget it.”
    â€œNo.” He moved forward one small step, and the slight scent of his cologne made me heady. “I want to apologize,” he said in a low voice. “It was unlike me.” He held my gaze and his eyes seemed to be trying to tell me what he could not say aloud.
    I looked down at my scuffed sneakers, breaking our connection. I was being ridiculous again. I felt like telling him that his rudeness had fit him like a glove from what I knew of him, but instead I changed the subject. “Do you like photography?”
    â€œI hate photography.”
    It was his third and final insult, and it made me laugh.
    He stared at me for a moment and then opened his mouth as if to speak, before closing it again without a word. I watched as he shut his locker with a clang and turned down the corridor.
    A few steps into his exit, Melissa sidled up to him and hooked her arm into his. I gritted my teeth as I noted he neither encouraged nor discouraged her touchy-feeliness. I also noted she was wearing a scoop-neck top that showed off her cleavage and her skirt was hitched up, revealing long, toned legs that made mine look like a popsicle stick that had been snapped in two.
    Melissa could have her pick of guys in Green Grove. The entire male population was wrapped around her little finger, but she was going for the one guy who liked no one but himself. I wondered whether to tell her to strap a mirror to her forehead.
    I laughed again at the thought and Tom looked over his shoulder. I ducked my head before I could read too much into his look and when I looked up it was Melissa who met my eyes, watching me like a well-fed cat watching a mouse. There was no reason for her to pounce.
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    At lunch, the girls wanted the gossip on Tom.
    â€œDid you two get it