Chapter 4
Bailey
Journalism class—the one where I sit beside Cole—becomes the source of all kinds of anxiety and anticipation over the next week. It used to be my favorite. I don’t know, maybe it still is. Mr. Brumgard likes me. He makes a special effort to engage with me. I’d like to think it’s because of my interest in the subject and because I’m a great student, not because he pities me. Not because he sees how left out I am at this school, how ostracized.
Now, though, I think about the class all day, get cold sweats before I go in, and flutters every time I see Cole out of the corner of my eye.
I never look at him directly.
I don’t want to invite more attention.
Except, that’s not true, because I have all kinds of fantasies of having a normal conversation with him. Or of him show
