Free You Have Seven Messages by Stewart Lewis

are so obsessed with boys. I’m thinking, as I sneak looks at him during the opening breathing, that I just never had the right one to fixate on.
    Maria’s tan makes me feel like an albino. The class issuperhard and we’re completely drenched in sweat by the end. She doesn’t recognize me until I introduce myself.
    “Luna! I haven’t seen you in years, you’re all grown!”
    I smile and turn the attention to Oliver, whose curls are flattened onto his face.
    “You guys were really good. Your first time?”
    “This type, yes. But I actually have a question for you.”
    Here’s when she gets that look. The one of sympathy that I guess I should appreciate, but most of the time it makes me feel worse. She knows the question’s going to be about my mother.
    “Sure. Anything.”
    “Were you with my mother at Butter the night she died?”
    Some long-haired guy quickly hugs her on his way out, sweat and all. Oliver cringes.
    “No, dear, I wasn’t.”
    Time slows down. I feel my heart drop through the floor and my throat constrict, and I want to scream,
Yes! Yes you were!
But she wasn’t, which means my father lied to me. Oliver is studying his bare feet and wiggling his toes.
    “Why do you ask?”
    “Just curious,” I say, but it comes out like a whimper. I feel pathetic.
    “I haven’t … 
hadn’t
seen your mother since that fundraiser on the boat. She had taken a hiatus from my class. I’m so terribly sorry, Luna.”
    Please don’t let her hug me with the combined sweat of everyone in her class that just hugged her
.
    “Thank you,” I say, and quickly turn away.
    When we get outside, Oliver says, “I know what you need now.”
    He takes me to a place called the Creperie and—I’m serious—orders in French. My anger toward my father is momentarily dissolved as my teeth sink into a thin banana-chocolate crepe with melted vanilla ice cream.
    “So who do you think was really with her that night?” Oliver asks as we finish our crepes.
    “Well, it’s obviously someone important, or my father wouldn’t have lied about it.”
    “Right. Cole?”
    “That would explain the cuff link. Will you try and find him with me?”
    “This sure beats doing my scales,” he says, and leaves a crisp twenty on the table.
    “Was that a date?” I ask as we enter the pedestrian traffic.
    “If you wanted it to be,” he says.
    As we walk toward home, Oliver looks at me with genuine concern.
    “Do you think your mom was having an affair with this guy?”
    “I’m not sure. I don’t want to even go there without knowing for sure, you know?”
    “Yeah. My dad was having an affair before they gotdivorced. There was this woman who gave me tennis lessons. It’s ridiculous how naive I was. She was practically falling all over him.
    “Do you think your father was somehow involved in the accident?”
    His direct questioning has a bizarre effect on me. Instead of being defensive, I am totally at ease. He grasps my hand for a minute, then uncurls his fingers to let go.
    “I hadn’t even thought about that, but maybe he was.”
    There’s an old woman holding court on her stoop with two UPS guys. Oliver stops me at the corner and gives me a serious look.
    “Whatever it is, Fifteen, I think it’s good you are doing this. You deserve to know.”
    We continue in silence, and he takes my hand again, this time holding on. In the middle of all that’s happening, something feels right. I let each breath go deep and relish it. When we get to my door we almost kiss, but we both become self-conscious. Instead, he puts his hand under my chin for a brief time, and I feel prettier than any Rachel in the world.

CHAPTER 16
HEAVY STUFF
    I avoid my father tonight. I’m afraid of the sharp words that may hurl out of my mouth. When there’s a knock on my door, I brace myself. Thankfully, it’s only Tile.
    “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
    “Elise’s here, so all the rules go out the window,” Tile says with a smile.
    “She