Free A Girl Called Fearless by Catherine Linka Page B

say?”
    I wished Yates would drop it, but I knew he wouldn’t. “Follow your dreams.” My voice broke. “She’d say follow your dreams, because even if you don’t reach them, you’ll still be going in the right direction.”
    â€œSo what are your dreams?”
    I propped my back against the wall. “I’m not sure.”
    â€œCome on. I thought you wanted to go to college.”
    â€œYeah, I do … I did.”
    â€œYou could still go in Canada. They’ve got great schools up there.”
    Stop it, I wanted to say.
    â€œI know it’s scary, but you should think about it.”
    â€œOkay. I will.”
    Yates ignored the no in my voice. “So what do you want to study?” he said.
    I’d never told anyone, never said it out loud. “Psychology.”
    â€œI can see that. You always like to know what people are thinking. But I’m kind of surprised. I’d have guessed you’d go for art history.”
    I felt the smile on my lips. “Really, why?”
    â€œOh, the way you lugged that big book down to the beach every day.” Mom’s book about Michelangelo. “That thing weighed—what?—forty pounds?”
    â€œMore like eight,” I said.
    â€œI remember you saying you were going to Florence someday to see the David statue up close.”
    I couldn’t believe he remembered that—some random thing I’d said four years ago. “You haven’t told me what your dreams are,” I said.
    â€œKeep doing what I’m doing. Fighting for justice. I’m leading the Liberty Project at Oxy, taking on the Paternalists.”
    Yates’s face was filled with passion, his twilight-blue eyes brimming with it, and I suddenly longed to feel the way he did, committed to something that filled me with purpose.
    His long lashes brushed his cheeks as he spoke, and I caught myself staring at them. I’m turning into Dayla, I thought, and looked away.
    â€œOh,” I said. “I forgot to say, thanks for the shirt. It’s beautiful, especially the quote.”
    â€œI thought you’d like it.”
    â€œBefore I could say I did, Yates said, “Sorry, I’ve got to take this other call.”
    â€œOh, okay.” I didn’t want to let him go—not yet.
    His voice dropped and his words brushed my ear. “Please think seriously about Exodus, Avie, for me. I—care about you.”
    My head spun. I knew Yates cared about me, but he’d never said it that way before—like it meant more.
    â€œYou’re all I have left now that Becca’s gone.”
    A rock formed in my throat as I tried to swallow. “I will. I promise I’ll think about it.”
    Yates hung up and I just sat there. I care about you.
    Of course he cared. He was my friend. We’d been through hell together.
    The weird thing was, I’d felt a little flutter—like my heart wanted to go to a new place. Dusty rolled onto her back, begging to be scratched. I ran my fingers in circles over her tummy, and thought about the last time Yates and I were allowed alone together.
    It was after Becca got Signed, and Yates and I spent the afternoon riding our bikes around my neighborhood. We chucked the bikes at some point and followed the horse paths behind peoples’ properties. We peered over fences and stole some figs hanging over a wall, but mostly we just talked.
    We weren’t doing anything, but when I got home, Dad started giving me the third degree. And then he dropped the bombshell. “Roik thinks you and Yates are too close.”
    I didn’t get it. “What’s wrong with us being friends?”
    â€œThings are different now. You’re growing up.”
    I remembered the squelchy feeling in my stomach and how I prayed Dad wouldn’t say my body was changing . “So what?”
    â€œHe’s a teenage boy, and they—” Dad shoved his hands in his