Dear Adam (The Pen Pal Romance Series) Read online

  The worst part about writing an advice column is that I can’t get clarification, but since I have your email...I have some questions of my own. What did he say when he asked you back? Did he have any excuses? What makes you think he won’t just dump you the second he goes off to college?

  And I think there’s a bigger question here. Do you want him back?

  Signed,

  Adam

  PS – Thank you.

  PSS – Also, thank you.

  Even though I waited for another half hour, ThePerfectStranger didn’t reply. But I was so exhausted, sleep came easily. When I opened my eyes again, it was time to get ready for school.

  I got up from the futon, brought my clothes to the bathroom, and showered up. I always got up earlier than everyone else because Uncle Ken and Aunt Linda only had one bathroom and three kids. I loved Janie, but that girl could get vicious if she didn’t have time to sing in the shower.

  After I got out, I went to the kitchen to help Aunt Linda cook breakfast. Between the two of us, we had a pretty good routine going.

  She kissed me on the cheek. “Can you make the eggs today?”

  I nodded. “Burnt scrambles it is.”

  She shoved my shoulder, and I chuckled under my breath. While she made coffee and ran in and out of the kitchen to yell at the kids to get ready, I cooked up some eggs covered in sliced cheese.

  Mom came into the kitchen, and I passed her a plate. She scarfed it down and headed out the door, already wearing her scrubs.

  Aunt Linda went to the corner of the kitchen and hollered at Uncle Ken in the boys’ room. “Make sure those boys have socks on and get in here for breakfast!”

  Their house was so loud in the mornings, not like our quiet apartment when Mom and I stayed with Dad. They were always gone. My aunt and uncle’s house was full of noise and energy and fighting, but the good kind.

  Janie skipped to the breakfast table, and I set a plate of eggs and toast in front of her. “Bon appetit.”

  She eyed her plate, then gave me a skeptical look. “Bones?”

  Aunt Linda laughed. “It’s French.”

  “These eggs don’t look French.”

  I laughed too. “It means ‘eat up.’”

  “Oh.” She shrugged and dug in.

  Aunt Linda and I smiled at each other. Linda wasn’t a classically pretty lady—actually, I was pretty sure she wore a wig—but she had a big smile and a deep laugh that made everything seem less serious. I could tell why Uncle Ken married her.

  Uncle Ken came to the table with two very sleepy looking seven-year-olds and sat down. Aunt Linda and I plated some food for them, then I sat, as well.

  My aunt put a hand on Janie’s arm, stalling her total devastation of the eggs I’d cooked. “No fighting today, right?”

  Janie looked toward the sky. “Mom, it’s been a week.”

  “And tomorrow it better be a week and a day, you got me?”

  Janie looked at me, and I winked at her. She was fighting a smile when she mumbled, “Alright, alright.”

  A honk came from outside.

  “That’s Wolf,” I said and scarfed down the last of my eggs.

  I jogged to the garage and grabbed my bag, then ran out to the driveway where my friend sat in his El Camino. It was kind of a lame car that was broken down just as often as it ran, but I wasn’t going to complain about having a ride to school.

  I threw my bag through the window, then dropped into his seat. As he pulled down the street, black smoke sputtered out behind us.

  “You got work this weekend?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, why?”

  He shook his head, but his stringy hair barely moved. “Got a gig Saturday night. You down?”

  “Where?” Wolf’s band always got hooked up at these weird hole-in-the-wall joints where I usually got in, even though I wasn’t twenty-one.

  “Ottos. On the east side of town.”

  “Near Midwest City?”

  He nodded.

  I shrugged. “Yeah, I’m down.”

  What else did I have to do?

  We pulled up in the school parking lot and walked past all the jocks sitting around in the back of some pickup playing country music.

  “Look who showed up to school,” the ringleader yelled. The student body vice president himself. “It’s dog and his bitch.”

  My brows furrowed. Seriously?

  Wolf squared his shoulders. “Where’s your sister? Shouldn’t you be making out or something?”

  I had to hand it to Wolf. He wasn’t afraid to dish it back. The only problem was this guy had fifty pounds on Wolf and hours of weightlifting behind him.

  I grabbed Wolf’s shoulder and kept walking.

  But the guy yelled back, “That’s cute. Take care of your woman, faggot.”

  I shot him a hard stare but kept walking.

  We got several feet away, and Wolf seemed to relax.

  “Trash,” Wolf muttered, but I didn’t say anything back. He just needed to get it out.

  Those jocks just liked to cause problems because they wouldn’t get in trouble if we had a fight. The principal would just see some rich white kid with decent grades and parents in the PTA who got caught up in problems with some poor black guy barely passing with a convict father. Oh, yeah, and his drug-dabbling friend. The odds were not in our favor.

  We made it to the lockers, and I nodded at him. “Catch you Saturday?”

  He straightened his coat. “Yeah.”

  Wolf was probably going to skip today, but I went to all of my classes. It wasn’t that I wanted to, but you should have seen the look on my mother’s face when Principal Scott called and said I might not graduate. I’d do anything not to see her that disappointed ever again.

  I was surprised when Wolf actually showed up to social studies. And glad, because Mr. Roberts said he had a partner project for us.

  But then Mr. Roberts said the most dreaded words surrounding partner projects: “I’ve assigned you into pairs.”

  I didn’t think it could get any worse, but then he called my name along with Nora Wilson. Student body president. Daughter of the dude who was probably going to be Oklahoma’s governor. Total snob.

  Yeah, she was a smoke show, but her personality ruined it. And the way she looked down her nose at me pretty much said she felt the same way.

  Six

  Nora

  I stared at my future project partner. Seriously? Couldn’t Mr. Roberts have paired me up with anyone else? I would have taken anyone—even the kid who had such sensitive skin he couldn’t wear deodorant. Even the girl who drew pentagrams and tried to summon ghosts in her free time. But here I was.

  Mr. Roberts told us to change seats so we were sitting next to our partners. Emerick sat there like he was waiting for me to move, but I folded my arms over my chest and leaned back. He could come to me.

  His lips twitched like he couldn’t tell whether to smile or grimace, and he slid out of his desk to come my way.

  While Mr. Roberts talked about the assignment—learning about elections and creating a campaign plan—I noticed Emerick’s hands. They were big, strong, and he kept his nails short. His ebony skin met his paler skin in a line at his palms. And there was that grease again. Up close, I could tell they were clean, just stained. Did he work in a shop?

  I didn’t have time to think about it, because Mr. Roberts was handing out a thick assignment package. Emerick kept his hands on the desk like he knew I’d want to take it. Well, he was right.

  I studied the rubric on top and internally groaned. We had to present an update on our plan each Friday, we’d need to host elections in the school with primaries and all, and we’d eventually have to speak at a debate in front of the entire student body. Oh, and we’d have to send invitations to parents. Great.

  “We should be set,” Emerick said, close to my ear.

  I jumped. He was reading over my shoulder. “Running for student body president was enough. I don’t want to do it aga
in.”

  His full lips curled. “Yeah, but can’t we just take your dad’s strategy?”

  I looked toward the ceiling. “Some of us might be okay with cheating”—I gave him a pointed look—“but I’m not.”

  Emerick sat back, folding his arms over his chest. “You sayin’ I’m a cheater?”

  I looked toward the paper. “And we have a field trip.”

  He chuckled low. “This is gonna be a fun semester.”

  Sarcasm. That, I could relate to. “The best.”

  I flipped through a few more of the pages. This project would be intense, and I didn’t have the time to do it on my own. I shifted in my seat and looked him straight in the eyes—leveled with him.

  “Look,” I said. “I need a partner. A real partner. And I don’t need someone who’s going to slack off and not do their part. So if you’re hoping you’re going to be paired up with someone who’s just going to do everything, you need to go ask Mr. Roberts for a new partner right now.”

  Emerick leaned forward, resting one arm on the desk and the other on his knee. These desks were too small for him. But the look in his eyes got me. The pained, frustrated look that made his dark eyes seem heavier.

  “You have this idea of me, and you don’t even know me.”

  He said it like a fact, and I bristled. “You’re telling me you don’t think of me as some entitled rich girl?”

  “Bingo, let’s get this girl a prize. It’ll be waiting in your brand-new crossover sitting in the parking lot.”

  My eyes narrowed. That thing had come with a price—giving up my life to haul my siblings around, step in when Dad had to be gone campaigning. But Emerick wouldn’t understand that.

  “So then, we’re on the same page,” I said and inclined my head toward the teacher’s desk. “Are you asking him, or am I?”

  Emerick sat back in his chair like he was lounging in his living room and folded his arms across his broad chest. “I’m not backing down.” He lifted his eyebrows in Mr. Roberts’s direction. “Go on. Let’s see how this goes.”

  I clenched my fists under my desk. He was infuriating! I didn’t know whether to hit something or scream—neither of which I did on a regular basis. Dealing with my toddler sisters was easier than this.

  “You going?” he pressed.

  My lips formed a tight line. I was not backing down from this challenge either. Because going to Mr. Roberts would mean he’d won, and I wasn’t a loser. Not when I ran for student body president. Not when dealing with some cocky greaser with a Texas-sized chip on his shoulder.

  I flashed him one of my presidential grins. “Nope. We’re going to have a great semester.”

  His lips twitched, and his eyes took on an amused expression. “I bet.”

  For the rest of class, Emerick and I planned out the semester according to the rubric. Well, I made plans, and he made wisecracks. But a couple of times he pointed things out that I missed.

  He wasn’t dumb. Just unmotivated, which was just as bad.

  After class, I loaded up my backpack and walked out of the classroom without saying goodbye.

  Trey caught up to me. “You got stuck with Turner.” He laughed. “That suuuucks.”

  I glared at him. “Not in the mood.”

  He changed tactics, reaching around my backpack and rubbing my shoulder. “When’s Amie’s next recital?”

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Whoa.” He lifted his hands.

  Taking in a deep breath, I turned my head down. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just been a rough day.”

  He took my hand in his and stopped so I had to stand still with him in the hallway while students walked all around us. It was like he was trying to pull me back into our old bubble. The one where I’d only been able to see us—the only two people in the world. But that bubble had popped the second he’d ended it.

  “Nora,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You know you don’t have to do this all by yourself, right? I’m here for you.”

  I looked down at our hands. At his that were soft and stain-free. Those hands were great at handling basketballs, but were his days of handling me over?

  “Thanks.” I sighed. “I have to get to class. Talk to you later?”

  His lips tugged into a smile. “Yeah.” He tucked my hair behind my ear, and his touch felt warm, familiar. And then he left, lost in the sea of students.

  The after-school rush continued. I took Amie to dance, then drove to the hospital. I volunteered there, giving people directions, helping get drinks and things like that. Tonight it was really slow, which, while technically a good thing, I was bored.

  I took my phone out of my purse and checked my new email account. One email from Adam. My heart pounded. When I’d sent the message, I really hadn’t expected to hear back, especially not so soon.

  I read his words, and my breath caught in my chest. I didn’t know what I’d been hoping for, but this was...a lot to take in. His questions—they were a lot. What did he say when he asked you back? Did he have any excuses? What makes you think he won’t just dump you the second he goes off to college? And I think there’s a bigger question here. Do you want him back?

  He also asked why Trey didn’t get it that I needed to stay with my family. That might have been the hardest question to answer.

  I looked around. The lobby was completely empty. The security guard next to me clicked away at the computer, losing at a game of solitaire. So, I hit reply.

  From: ThePerfectStranger

  To: ADAM

  Dear Adam,

  Thank you so much for messaging me. I’m sure you have your plate full with classwork and the column. I know I do. I never thought too much about you needing to ask clarification questions, but I’m glad you could write back.

  Your first question, about why he doesn’t understand...I don’t know. He’s the youngest of two children in his family, and I think everything’s always been taken care of for him. He never had to worry about things other than just being a kid, I guess. Honestly, I don’t even know if he knows how to do laundry. He’ll probably hire someone to do it when he goes to college. Maybe he just thinks my parents would step up if I left, but the thing is that they can’t. I have several younger sisters, and my dad is gone all the time. There’s no way Mom could handle the youngest two full-time, my sister in middle school, and my sister in high school. I’m the only other one old enough to drive. What’s she supposed to do? Uber my siblings everywhere?

  When he asked me back, he gave me something of my grandma’s that I’d lost. It was a really precious family heirloom. And he said he would be there for me, that we would work it out, and that it might even be better if we were long distance in college because then we wouldn’t be around to distract each other all the time. I know that doesn’t sound very romantic, but, let’s face it. Between classes and family obligations and extracurriculars, we hardly have time for each other as it is. It’s better that one of us won’t feel left out.

  And do I want him back? I don’t know, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing you. Part of me wants to say yes. Dating him had been like a dream—I always felt like we were the couple that was going somewhere. But then he ended things so easily.

  I’m the kind of person who always makes the “right” decision. My parents can rely on me, and my friends think I’m a prude. The fact that I don’t know what to do now is killing me, and I feel so much pressure to just make a good decision, but I don’t know how. I guess I’ll get back to you on that one.

  Do you ever feel like you won’t know if something is a bad idea or not until you actually try it?

  ThePerfectStranger

  PS – It’s weird saying all of this to a stranger. Maybe you should tell me about yourself?

  I deleted and retyped that last line at least three times, but someone walked into the lobby and I hit send. The question just happened to still be there.

  After helping a soon-to-be dad find the maternity ward, I clocked out, hung up my
volunteer badge, and went to my car. I picked Amie up from the dance studio, and we drove home in a tired silence. For all the time we spent together, it seemed like we hardly talked.

  “Any plans this weekend?” I tried.

  She glanced at me. “You mean other than helping Mom change diapers?”

  I snorted. “Yeah, in addition to that.”

  She shrugged. “Dad wouldn’t let me go on that date, so not really. Maybe go see Chels.”

  Her best friend lived only a few houses away, and they hung out almost constantly until Amie started competitive ballet and had four-hour practices every day. If she played her cards right, she could be dancing for the Oklahoma City Ballet full-time in less than a couple of years.

  “Are you seeing Trey?” she asked.

  My lips wavered. Faking a smile was difficult this late in the day. “Maybe.”

  I waited for her to ask me something else, but she just leaned her head back and rested her eyes until we got to the house.

  At least since it was late, the younger three were already in bed. I hopped in the shower, finished up a worksheet for my science class, and opened my computer to one new email from Adam.

  Seven

  Emerick

  ThePerfectStranger wrote me back, and I didn’t know why I cared so much. I didn’t even have to respond to her. Technically, I was only in it for three answers a week. I never got to hear back from the people I wrote to, though. Yeah, I heard people talk about the column from time to time at school, but that wasn’t the same as having a conversation with someone.