This Girl: A Novel

right . . . it isn’t going to work at all. I kept trying to tell myself over and over last night that what she said wasn’t true, but it is. I wonder if the only other alternative would be to try and at least be her friend. We’re obviously going to have to work through this situation somehow.
    When I round the corner to my classroom, she’s standing next to my door with the transfer form pressed against the wall, attempting to forge my name. My first instinct is to turn around and walk away, but I realize these are the exact types of situations we’re going to have to learn to confront.
    “That’s not a good idea,” I say, before she forges my name. If anyone could recognize my handwriting, it would be Mrs. Alex.
    Lake spins around and looks at me. Her cheeks flush and she darts her eyes down to my shirt, embarrassed. I walk past her and unlock the door, then motion for her to enter the classroom. She walks to my desk and smacks her form down.
    “Well, you weren’t here yet, I thought I’d spare you the trouble,” she says.
    She must not have had her coffee today. I pick up the form and look it over. “Russian Lit? That’s what you chose?”
    She rolls her eyes. “It was either that or Botany.”
    I pull my chair out and take a seat, preparing to sign the form. As soon as the tip of my pen meets the paper, it occurs to me that in a way, I’m being incredibly selfish. She chose poetry as an elective before she even knew I would be teaching it. She chose poetry because she loves it. The fact that the thoughts I have about her make me uncomfortable is an extremely selfish reason to force her into Russian Literature for the rest of the year. I hesitate, then lay the pen back down on the paper.
    “I thought a lot last night . . . about what you said yesterday. It’s not fair of me to ask you to transfer just because it makes me uneasy. We live a hundred yards apart; our brothers are becoming best friends. If anything, this class will be good for us, help us figure out how to navigate when we’re around each other.” I reach into my satchel and pull out the test she somehow made a perfect score on. “Besides, you’ll obviously breeze through.”
    She takes the test from my hands and looks down at it. “I don’t mind switching,” she says quietly. “I understand where you’re coming from.”
    I put the lid back on the pen and scoot my chair back. “Thanks, but it can only get easier from here, right?”
    She nods her head unconvincingly. “Right,” she says.
    I know I’m completely wrong. She could move back to Texas today and I would still feel too close to her. But once again, it’s not my feelings that should matter at this point. It’s hers. I’ve screwed her life up enough in the past week; the last thing I want to do is shove Russian Lit on top of that. I crumple up her transfer form and chuck it toward the trash can. When it misses, she walks over and picks it up, then throws it in.
    “I guess I’ll see you third period, Mr. Cooper,” she says as she exits the room.
    The way she refers to me as “Mr. Cooper” makes me scowl. I hate the fact that I’m her teacher.
    I’d so much rather be her Will.

7.
    the honeymoon
    LAKE HASN’T MOVED a muscle in the last fifteen minutes. She’s been soaking in every word I’ve said. Recalling the day we met and our first date was actually fun. Recalling the things that tore us apart is grueling.
    “I don’t like talking about this anymore,” I say. “It looks like it’s making you sad.”
    Her eyes widen and she turns her body toward me. “Will, no. I love hearing your thoughts on everything that happened. I actually feel like it helps me understand a lot of your actions better. I don’t know why I felt like you sort of blamed me.”
    I kiss her softly on the lips. “How could I blame you, Lake? All I wanted was you.”
    She smiles and rests her head on my forearm. “I can’t believe my mom told you to leave me that note,” she says.
    “God, Lake. That was so embarrassing. You have no idea.”
    She laughs. “She really liked you, you know. At first, I mean. She loved you in the end. It was the in-between where her feelings about you sort of waned.”
    I think about the day Julia found out, and how worried she must have been for Lake. To have everything going on in her life like she did, then have to watch your daughter deal with heartache? Unimaginable.
    “Remember when she found out you were my teacher?” Lake says.