Page 20 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Xavier might as well pack his shit and move into the detention center now. Fat chance he’ll be spending his time anywhere else this month.

“I didn’t even know weekend detentions were a thing.” Theo crinkles his nose.

“Yeah, well… you also didn’t know condoms were a thing. Isn’t that right, Lacey?” Xavier says with a shit-eating grin.

Everybody laughs, minus Lacey and Theo. It’s practically common knowledge that Theo and Lacey had a pregnancy scare a while back.

“Go fuck yourself with a cactus, good sir,” Theo deadpans.

Word is, these two were actively sleeping together all of junior year. Until Lacey found out she was late. It was a false alarm, but real enough for Theo to end it. He must’ve been scared shitless to dump his side piece altogether.

It’s no secret that Lacey’s been hoping to pick up where they left off ever since. She’s been obsessed with Theo since the third grade. If only he still wanted her when the sun comes up.

The remainder of the evening is fun—I know, crazy, right? We laugh, play more pool, and while he doesn’t say another word to me all night, Xavier doesn’t seem to completely loathe my existence.

Baby steps.

Dia hugs me tight when I call it a night shortly after ten.

“I’m so glad you gave…” Hiccup. “Gave them a chance,” she slurs in my ear, her speech a bit jumbled from all the vodka sodas she’s had, and I play along. But don’t think I believe we’ll all be one big happy family from now on.

I know, come Monday, I’ll go back to keeping quiet at lunch, and they’ll go back to being Easton High royalty. I’ll pick up a shift at the library while Xavier, Theo, and Finn pick up a basketball. Tomorrow, everything will go back to normal.

Tomorrow, I’ll get to burn the letter that could ruin my life…

Assuming someone else doesn’t find it first.

Aveena

They say when it rains, it pours. I’ve always thought of it as a fancy way of saying, “When life sucks… it really fucking sucks.” Although I must admit I’d never quite understood what that meant until now.

The letter is gone.

G-o-n-e, gone.

Translation: my life is over.

Pretty sure I flatlined for a second when I stopped by the school library at lunch and realized the poetry book wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

We only have one copy in stock, and I’m absolutely positive I didn’t misplace it. Aisle six is the book’s designated spot. I would know—I reorganized the books in alphabetical order myself.

It’s got to be some sort of mistake, I thought. I had to ask Lucille, the librarian and my coworker, if she remembered who borrowed it. She didn’t, but she also frequently searches for her glasses while wearing them, so I took it with a pinch of salt.

I considered asking her if I could pop behind the counter and check our systems myself but decided against it. I’m off the clock. What could be so important I’d need to use the computer during the day when I’m already working tonight after school?

My first guess was that the sheet of paper somehow fell out of the book when it got picked up, but the letter wasn’t anywhere in the library.

It’s like it just disappeared from the face of the earth.

Poof!

I turned in my twenty pages to Ms. Callahan fifth period but couldn’t listen to a single word coming out of her mouth for the rest of the class. I was too busy obsessing over who borrowed the poetry book.

Consumed by anxiety, I crush my phone into my palm and maneuver around the crowd on my way to the library. I work until six every day after school, then drive straight to the music academy to pick up Ashley from her private singing lessons.

I haven’t been called to Principal Emery’s office yet, which is a good sign, but my anxiety won’t let me off the hook until I get my hands on that letter and rip it to shreds. I pull up social media as I dart down the hall and tap my Instagram notifications to get my mind off the letter disaster.

Three notifications.