Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Which made him laugh and started the vicious circle all over again.
When we got our final report cards in May, Ramsey had one B, three Cs, a D, and a ticket to sixth grade. We partied hard that night. Okay, fine, we sat at our tree, arguing if it was too late to change Sir Hairy’s name or not. I was having some serious regrets about that one. We settled on dropping the Sir part.
And that was pretty much how things went for us over the next few years.
As time passed, we got even closer. Older. Feelings that had nothing to do with friendship started to develop. When I was twelve, I started seeing Ramsey in a different light. I finally had to admit to myself that I like-liked him, which meant I immediately told him. There were no secrets between us. Not even that I thought he was cute and got jealous as hell when earlier that day he’d chosen to pair up with Tiffany Martin for science lab.
I assumed Ramsey like-liked me too when, two seconds after I’d told him how I felt, he’d jumped out of the tree—thankfully without breaking my leg—sat down beside me, and bumped me with his shoulder, stating, “About time. I knew the Tiffany thing would get you.”
“She’s such a snob.”
He threw his arm around my shoulders. “She really is.”
Later that weekend, Ramsey asked me to be his girlfriend.
Okay, maybe asked was an overstatement. We’d been playing baseball with the guys when a new kid wandered over and laughed that there was a girl on the mound. I’d just gotten my glove off, ready to hurl it at his head, when Ramsey yelled, “Shut the hell up. She’s my girlfriend.”
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
We both shrugged and then I struck the new kid out—twice.
While our friendship was no secret, our new label set the seventh-grade girls on fire. It didn’t change us in the least. He wasn’t writing me poems or bringing me flowers or anything. He did, however, still sit with me on the bus every day and pound down my door every Saturday morning after my dad left for work. He and Nora would bring over a box of cereal and I’d provide the milk and bowls. We’d spend the morning watching cartoons, the afternoon exploring the woods, and the nights sneaking around in the shadows, scaring the crap out of each other.
That was who we were. Simple, average, yet utterly extraordinary.
The normal “us” changed all over again a year later.
“Thea, you in there?”
“Go away!” I yelled inside the bathroom.
This was not happening. No way. No how. It was not happening.
“Nora told me she thinks you started your period. Good news, you probably won’t die from that.”
I closed my eyes and leaned on the sink. Jesus Christ, it was really happening.
It had started as a regular old day. Ramsey had shown up early that morning, cussing about his dad’s girlfriend getting high and eating all the cereal. He’d stolen some of my Cap’n Crunch, and then while I was getting dressed, he spent the next ten minutes yelling down the hallway about why the cartoon guy on the box had never been promoted. Same old, same old.
Oh, but Mother Nature had other plans for me that day.
We rode our bikes out to the park near the school, where there was a massive pick-up game of dodgeball happening. Not to brag, but also to brag, Ramsey and I made a pretty badass team on the court. We were in the middle of destroying Josh Caskey and Nathan Pollard when the game suddenly came to a screeching halt.
“What the fuck is that on your pants?” Josh yelled, jumping to the side as I hurled a ball at his head.
Positive it had been a ploy to make me drop my guard, I grabbed another ball and chucked it at him. “Shut up, idiot.”
No one fired back.
There were chuckles as the herd of teenage boys congregating around us began elbowing each other and pointing at me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I looked over at Ramsey.
He was frozen. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. His face pale and filled with horror as he stared at my shorts.
They were white cotton, by the way.
Clearly, I’d yet to get back in God’s good graces.
The laughing got louder, and panic and embarrassment ricocheted inside me, but through it all, Ramsey never moved. That’s right. Half of the boys in junior high were laughing at me, and my best friend, my freaking boyfriend, said nothing.
I took off at a dead sprint, grabbing my bike on my way past, never slowing as I swung my leg over it and peddled home as fast as two bald tires could carry me.
So, there I was, hiding in my bathroom, knowing I’d just started my period.