Page 2 of Room to Breathe

“Hello!” I called again, just in case.

Nothing.

I climbed down, leaving the window open so I could hear if anyone came by, then squatted by my backpack, wondering if I had something inside to help me unlock the door or free my cellphone. Everyone may have treated me like a delinquent, but I didn’t actually carry around lockpicking tools or sharp objects. I unzipped the front pocket and dug through it anyway. The sharpest thing I had was a pen. In my frustration, I freed it from my backpack and used it to carveMrs. T sucksonto the back of the stall door.

Okay, maybe Iwasa delinquent.

Speaking of people who thought I was a troublemaker, how long would it take my parents to wonder where I was? They would assume I’d gone to Cody’s after school. They didn’t know we’d broken up two weeks ago.

Actually, breaking up required two people who thought theywere in a relationship in the first place. I wasn’t sure he’d ever acknowledged that fact. Regardless, we were no longer talking. I didn’t tell my parents, because they would’ve been happy about that—they hated him, and I needed to be sad for at least a couple more weeks even though he didn’t deserve my sadness.

Maybe this was karma, me being stuck in the bathroom, for how I’d been acting for the past couple of months. Maybe I’d be here all weekend. Maybe the fluorescent lights and the slight aroma of mildew would be enough to transform me back into my old self. The one my mom could say she recognized. Because just three days ago, she’d told me she didn’t recognize this one.That makes two of us, Momwas what I should’ve said. What I really said wasI don’t recognize the new you either.

No, I couldn’t be here all weekend. I needed to be out tonight. I had to show up tomorrow, letter in hand, or my mom would never forgive me. I needed the notes from my phone.

Laughter sounded out the window and I gasped and ran back to the toilet, climbing up.

“Hello!”

“Hello!” came a voice. I couldn’t see anyone.

“Over here!” I called.

“Over here!” they parroted, and then there was more laughter and echoey running through one of the outdoor breezeways. And then silence.

“Seriously?” I growled.

Behind me the glorious sound of the door opening rang out. I twisted toward it and my foot slipped. My chin hit the windowsill on my way down and my foot landed in the toilet. I let out a loud curse but then managed to yell, “Hold the door! Hold the door!”as I yanked my now-dripping wet foot out of the toilet, pressed a hand to my aching chin, and ran out of the stall just in time to watch the door shut.

“Are you an idiot?” I said to the back of a guy who was standing at the sink. He didn’t turn, just picked up my phone pouch and inspected it before setting it back down. Then he slid something that sounded like glass across the counter.

I stood there, out of breath, water squishing out of my sock and through my shoe and puddling on the floor when I shifted my weight. He turned, and as he did I saw the earbud in his ear. He hadn’t heard me. Our eyes locked and my expression fell, then hardened. His did the same.

I was now stuck in the bathroom with someone I’d only seen up close once in the past two months. Someone I had never wanted to see up close again. Someone who felt the exact same way about me, I was sure.

Beau Eubanks.

Chapter 2

Then

“You still studying?” Mom asked,tying her robe as she walked down the stairs.

“Not still. Again,” I said, flipping to the next flash card. “I did not stay up all night.” Maybe I should’ve.

“Good, because rest is important too,” she said, kissing the top of my head as she walked by where I sat at the kitchen table.

“Speaking of rest,” I teased, “you slept late.” It was nearly eight. My ride was going to be here in five minutes. Mom usually woke up at seven. She was a registered nurse at the hospital and her shift started the same time school did.

“I know. I’m running a little late. Did you get something to eat? I can make you some eggs really quick.”

“I already ate. Thanks.” I flipped to the next card, repeating the definition ofmitochondriain my head.

Mom came out of the pantry with a protein bar. She placed it on top of my backpack, which was sitting on the table. “For later.”

“Thanks, Mums,” I said in a terrible British accent.

“No problem.”