Free Diva by Alex Flinn Page A

I could look in back." It's obvious he doesn't want to.
    "No, no, that's okay. I'll just read."
    I take my stuff and sit. I rifle through my purse again because, of course, I can't write an essay without a—
    "Need a pen?"
    Of course, it's Nick.
    "It's okay." I feel like taking something from him will get me all involved.
    "I have an extra one. It's just a Bic from the drugstore. It doesn't… obligate you in any way."
    "That's not it," I snap.
    "Then take it." He's holding it out, a plain old Bic Round Stic pen. "I don't need it back. I'm leaving in five minutes, okay?"
    "I can give it back." I realize, after saying this, I'm saying I'll take it.
    "No biggie. It's a cheap pen. Besides, I know you'll bite it and get it all disgusting." He says it like he's grossed-out but he's smiling. "You still do that?"
    "I try not to." I walk over, holding out my hand for the pen. I catch the title of his book, The Batterer: A Psychological Profile . He sees me looking at it and, quick as he can, takes his hand and slides the book under the table.
    I don't meet his eyes, but I'm still thinking about that title, The Batterer . I know that battery is technically what Nick did to me. But I never thought he knew it, that he admitted it to himself. Part of me wants to turn
    away now.
    But my hand closes around the pen. "Thanks," I say.
    "No problem." He sees that I'm still looking at his lap, the book. "I'm… uh, I'm in that class, the one you put me in."
    He means the Family Violence class the judge put him in after I got the restraining order against him. I
    say, "I thought it was only for six months," then regret saying anything. He probably screwed up and had to repeat it.
    "I didn't screw up," he says, again reading my thoughts. "I signed up to retake the class voluntarily. I started… it took me until the end to… really realize why I was there and… what I did to you." Now, he's trying not to look at me , like he's afraid of me instead of the other way around. "Anyway, I'm repeating it, so I can actually learn to be different. My counselor, Mario, says you can't let anger run your life. You
    know?"
    He looks at me now. I still haven't said anything. Part of me still wants to get away from him. The other
    part, a big, big part, wants to touch him, wants to tell him it's okay. But I remember what my own
    counselor said about guys' lies. So I just nod.
    He shrugs. "Anyway, I'm going to class in one minute. And I said I wouldn't bother you, so I guess I should just shut the hell up now." He starts picking his things up, closing the notebook and putting it into his lap before picking the book up again. He sticks his pen into the spiral of the notebook. He nods, then
    stands up.
    You must speak. Failing to speak gives him way to much importance.
    "Um, thanks for the pen."
    "No problem. By the way…" He points out the window at a white convertible. "That's my car, if you need to avoiding me in the future."
    "Its… nice.
    "My dad would hardly have something lame out in the driveway, right?"
    He doesn't wait for an answer. He's out the door. I watch him getting in the car, and I feel the motion in my
    legs, like I'm running toward him. I don't. I take out my notebook and start writing—not the essay for
    English class, but an entry for my journal. I'm writing in my notebook, but I'll transfer it when I get home.

    Opera_Grrrl's Online Journal
    Subject: Why does she stay w/him???
    Date: August 22
    Time: 8:35 a.m.
    Feeling: Nervous
    Weight: 109 lbs.

    When people hear about a girl getting beat up by her bf, they always say the same thing: Why does she
    stay w/him? What is she, stupid or something? Does she like it? If some guy hit me, I'd just leave. It
    should be that easy.
    News flash: It isn't. When it happens 2 you, it's like you're so far into it before you even realize what's
    going on.
    1st off, guys don't hit girls on the first date. I was in counseling w/10 other girls, and not one of them got
    hit before they were really,