All he does is smirk. “I Have More Spirit Than You? You’re asking to be the next viral meme.”
“What happened to not judging a book by its cover? Anyway, I was supposed to be going to a basketball game. It would’ve been more than appropriate for that.”
“So you went rogue and I’m an accomplice?”
I nod. “Pretty much.”
“Well then, this sounds like a pretty spontaneous night for you after all. You’re giving your sister a run for her money.”
I smile. “I hadn’t thought about that, but yeah, I guess so.”
Andy doesn’t say anything after that, but he starts the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot. Once we are on the road, he presses his foot harder on the pedal and drives faster. I can’t see the exact speed on his dashboard, but I can tell by the way the signs on the road are blurred. Suddenly, I feel my heart racing and I close my eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “It just feels like we’re going really fast.”
He takes his foot off the gas. “Sorry. I thought you wanted us to beat them there.”
He wasn’t wrong. I did. I feel the need to explain myself, but it’s nearly impossible without explaining my accident. Before I can say anything, he eases up on the pedal and looks at me. “We can go slow.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“So what’s considered slow for a second date? Dinner?” He winks at me.
I roll my eyes, because I highly doubt I’ll ever see him again. Sure, it was nice of him to drive me tonight, and a couple days ago I would have loved to meet a new boy that I haven’t gone to school with since I was twelve—but now I have a scavenger hunt to follow. “This wasn’t a date,” I correct him.
“I know. You think I’d believe a girl like you would ever go out with a guy like me?” he says in a way that makes me unexpectedly blush.
I can’t start looking for the next paper heart until tomorrow, but in that moment, I’m sad that the night is going to end.
* * *
As Steve drives me and Ashley home, I can’t stop thinking about the paper hearts. I wonder who is sending them to me. Why do they want to stay anonymous, and why now? I don’t know a lot of things, but the one thing I do know: I can’t stop smiling the whole way home.
“Must have been a good book,” my sister says, eyeing me suspiciously.
Chapter 8
Before bed I search for a fresh notebook I’ve been saving for Something Important. This definitely qualifies.
Once I have it, I crawl into bed and begin scribbling down the list of possibilities for my mystery admirer. It has to be someone who knows me well—or at least well enough that they knew what I did last February. Whoever it was also must be thoughtful and caring and a good planner, like me, to carry this out.
Pete—My first real boyfriend. But why would he try to help me after I broke his heart?
Adam—My first crush. I have no reason to include him other than wishful thinking.
Carmen???—A scavenger hunt has Carmen written all over it. But she seemed exceptionally mad at me tonight when I skipped the game. She didn’t even send a hundred sad faces. When I finally told her I didn’t feel like going all she responded was K.
Someone who really is just a secret admirer—Welp, that could be anybody.
I stare at my list over and over again, almost like if I do, the right answer will magically appear. Right now my heart wants the admirer to be a boy, but my gut says Carmen.
There have been other times, though, that I can’t forget—like when we both got admission emails to our dream school, Columbia. I got in early decision, and when she found out she was wait-listed, I was immediately worried she was going to be devastated—but she acted like she was over it in minutes. Whatever, I don’t even care if I don’t get in. I’ll have way more fun at NYU, she declared, which could be completely true.
But that night she organized a spur-of-the-moment scavenger hunt for our favorite seniors vs. juniors. I had been anxious about going because it would be a lot of girls crammed into one SUV, but I’m so glad I did because now it’s one of my favorite memories. At the end of the night we were all looking at the photo evidence of who checked what off the list. Take a picture of yourself kissing someone in the old phone booth at the Daily Planet. Take a picture of yourself getting a piggyback from a freshman. Bonus point if you get video of them carrying you across the football field. It was a hilarious night all around, but one of the funnier parts was when our teams showed each other what we did.
I still remember being completely shocked that the juniors managed to get a photo with a teacher—one girl just happened to be neighbors with Ms. Cawfield and snapped a selfie with her in the background taking out the trash. I remember giggling with everyone until I looked over at Carmen. She was silent, her lips pressed together like she was thinking about something else entirely. When she caught my eye, she smiled like everything was fine, but in that moment, I realized what the entire night was about. Why the times she seems like she’s having the most fun, she’s really trying to keep it together. I grabbed her hand—the one with our friendship bracelet still dangling from her wrist—and squeezed hard, like I’d never let go.
We don’t talk about it, but I know she hates that we’ll all be going to different schools in the fall. Maybe she doesn’t say anything because she thinks I’ll follow her, like I always do. I shake that thought out of my head now as I focus on what I’m going to say.
Still, we’ve been distant lately so I’m not positive. I go from scanning my notebook to scrolling through social media to see if there are any boys I’m not thinking of. I’m stalking a quiet but cute guy in my physics class who liked the last photo of mine, when a new message pops up from someone named AndrewG on Facebook. I’m confused until I scroll through the feed and see pictures of Library Boy.
Wow. I didn’t expect to hear from him again, especially when he didn’t ask for my number.
When’s your next love mystery adventure?
Maybe it’s because I adore the sound of love mystery adventure that I type back right away.
9 o’clock tomorrow morning.
I’m planning on catching a ride with Ashley as she goes to work. I close out and continue scrolling through Physics Class Guy’s page, when I see that Andy messaged me again. I don’t have to open it to see the two-word response.
I’m coming.