Mixed emotions competed inside me. So he’d had a good time at my house, and that made me melt a little. But his description of my family, the craziness that always had me on the brink of frustration, left me scoffing.
I wrote back:
Do you mean Norman Rockwell? I’m sure you didn’t spend Thanksgiving with the Norman Rockwell painting family. No family is perfect.
I almost wrote least of all mine, but hesitated. Was I giving it away that he spent Thanksgiving with me by refuting his depiction of it? No, he thought he was writing Sasha right now.
I’m glad it was a good distraction for you. I can understand why you’d need one. It’s hard enough to wait a day for a response to a letter, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling waiting this long. Your dad will write back. He has to. Is there something specific you’re hoping he’ll say? Or do? Or you just want an update on his life? I hope you didn’t try to write a song for him or you’ll never hear back. ;) No, but for real, your letters are very compelling. Almost impossible not to respond to.
At least that was the case with me. I’d never be able to stop responding to him no matter what I knew or who he thought I was. Because he had some letter-writing spell over me.
Not only did Cade’s letters insist on being responded to, they also filled my mind with lyrics. It was some cruel twist of fate that the only time I thought of good lyrics was after exchanging thoughts with Cade. Today wasn’t any different. Sitting in detention, I’d already written an entire verse.
You have me under your spell.
With all the secrets you tell.
I can’t make it stop.
Please don’t let it stop.
You have me under your spell.
If you knew me as well,
You would make it stop.
I can’t let it stop.
I was so wrapped up in my writing that I didn’t hear the teacher get up and leave the classroom until the door shut behind him. Had he said something about leaving? My eyes went to the clock on the wall. We still had thirty more minutes. I also didn’t hear Sasha, who was still serving a detention sentence as well, come up behind me. So when she yanked my notebook out from under my arm, I wasn’t expecting it.
“What are you writing?” she asked and began reading out loud the lyrics on the page.
My heart hammered in my chest and I wanted so badly to get up and rip my book out of her hands and possibly beat her over the head with it. But I knew that’s what she wanted. I knew she wanted me to get up and chase her around the room as she read from my notebook to the sound of the other laughing students, who right now were salivating for just that show as their eyes darted back and forth between the two of us. I had learned to speak bully over the years. It was the product of secondhand clothes and crazy hair that I didn’t know how to tame until freshman year. I knew their language well. So as panicked as my insides were, I stayed in my seat, trying to keep my facial expression neutral.
Sasha had made it to the far corner of the room in anticipation of me chasing her. From there she screamed the last two lines as she laughed. “You would make it stop! I can’t let it stop!”
I willed my face not to turn red. This was my worst fear. I couldn’t even let the people I loved read my lyrics.
Sasha’s senior friend, in the back still, laughed along with her. “What is that? A poem? A weird stalker poem?”
My mind was spinning rapidly, trying to remember what else was in that book. Had I actually used the name Cade in that last angry song I’d written after I found out he was the letter writer? I hadn’t, had I?
Oh no, I had.
All she had to do was flip two pages back. There were only two design sketches between the page she was on and that page. How long was Mr. Mendoza going to be out anyway? A bathroom break should be over soon.
With a smile still on Sasha’s face, she flipped back one page. My heart was going to stop. If I jumped up now and hurdled over two desks, I could possibly get to her in time. She was wearing heels, after all.
She held up my drawing of the shirt for everyone to see. “Now we know where Lily gets her awful fashion sense.”
She should’ve been bored with this game by now. I wasn’t reacting at all. And the others in the room weren’t responding positively either. My notebook should’ve been thrown on the floor or tossed back on my desk at this point.
“I’ve always wondered why your nose is glued to this book,” Sasha went on. “Now we know. Bad drawings and even worse poems.”
I understood why my no-reaction wasn’t going to work. This extended beyond just today. She’d been wondering about my book for a long time. She wasn’t only doing this to humiliate me. She was doing this to satisfy her curiosity. She was going to keep looking.
My stomach was in knots. Time for a new plan.
Sasha’s backpack sat on the floor by the desk she’d occupied moments ago. If her phone was in there, I was sure she’d make a trade.
She flipped back another page. Like she was reading a picture book to a classroom full of kindergartners, she held it up for all to see again. A sketch of a halfway finished skirt.
I stood. And just as I moved toward her bag, the classroom door swung open and Mr. Mendoza walked in.
“Ladies,” he said, “I’m sure there is a perfectly justifiable reason why you’re out of your seats. But I don’t care. One more day each.”
I could see on Sasha’s face that she wasn’t going to give me back my book. She was already walking to her seat, flipping another page.
“She stole my book,” I said, whipping around to the teacher.
“This is my book,” Sasha said before he responded. She was reading the lyrics now. Her eyes going back and forth along the page. She must’ve come to Cade’s name because she stopped suddenly, her eyes jerking to mine.
“Give Lily her book back,” Mr. Mendoza said sharply. “Now.”
She didn’t listen, but flipped back more. I saw her tilt her head, reading notes I sometimes wrote in the margins of the pages to help me with the lyrics. Was she reading the notes I’d written about Cade’s dad? His home life? My skin froze.
“Sasha,” Mr. Mendoza growled.
Sasha slammed the notebook shut and tossed it toward me. It landed with a smack on the floor next to me. I picked it up and opened it to one of the pages I was sure she had read. And even though there was a big X covering some of the words, most of them were still completely legible. My eyes went over the words. The words about exchanging letters. If only I hadn’t added the unnecessary rant to the end of the lyrics she wouldn’t know who the words were about. But I had and now she knew. And I had no idea what she’d do with that knowledge.
Punching someone on school grounds resulted in immediate suspension. I did not want to get suspended. This was what I told myself as I walked from detention toward the parking lot.
I’d been the first to leave the room and needed to make it home without looking at Sasha or I wouldn’t be able to control my actions. Making it to the parking lot didn’t help because neither my sister nor my mom were there waiting for me today.
I pulled out my phone and texted Ashley. Is someone getting me?
“Lily,” a voice from behind me said. It was Sasha.