Free Cracked Up to Be by Courtney Summers

I think maybe it’s working.
    I haven’t thought about the money in a long time.
    His lips get excruciatingly close to mine and he pauses.
    “Do you even miss me?”
    “No,” I say.
    He finally kisses me, presses his lips lightly against mine. I know what he’s doing. He’s teasing me and I won’t have it. I make him really kiss me, full on the mouth, and force his lips apart with my own.
    And then he stops.
    “What about everything you felt about me? Where does that go?” He leans in again and stops before anything can happen. “I would’ve stuck it out. You wouldn’t let me help you.”
    “I didn’t need your help.”
    “Yes, you did. You do. Everyone got through it together but you. You’re so perfect, you just couldn’t handle it—”
    “You’re as bad as Jake,” I say. “You talk too much. Shut up and forget it because it’s not worth your homework for me to sit here and listen to you nitpick the past.”
    That kills it. After a second, he presses his binder into my hands.
    “Take it,” he says, before I can ask. “Have it back to me by tomorrow morning.”
    “Oh, come on. Afraid you won’t respect yourself afterward?” I study him. His cheeks are pink. “I’m not going to tell Becky.”
    “I just wanted to kiss you again.”
    “Stop it.”
    “You could’ve said no,” he says, standing. He pulls the bench out. “You know I’m not over you. You could’ve said no and done the homework yourself, but you didn’t.”
    “You’re right,” I say. “You know what? You’re absolutely right. Call it a momentary lapse of sanity.”
    He opens the door.
    “Or maybe you just wanted to kiss me again, too.”
    I roll my eyes.

eight

    Bailey’s developed this weird attachment to me. He follows me from room to room, lays at my feet under the dinner table and stands guard in the living room for the two hours it takes me to copy Chris’s math homework. My parents can’t shut up about how cute it is, so three guesses for how I feel about it, and the first two don’t count.
    “Maybe you could take him for a walk, now that your foot is better.”
    Mom says it in a voice that tells me it’s less of a suggestion and more of a command. I go along with it because I want out. I throw my coat on, attach Bailey to the leash—his tail wags back and forth excitedly—and escape.
    “Hey, Parker!”
    I’ve been walking a good forty minutes when I hear my name. Somehow I took a turn that landed me on Victoria Street, where the traffic is kind of heavy and I cross the paths of more people than I normally like to do. I cock my head to the side. Nothing. Maybe I didn’t hear it after all. I keep walking.
    “Parker!”
    Damn. I turn in the direction of the voice and spot Jake emerging from the video store, holding a plastic DVD case in his hand. He jogs over.
    “Didn’t figure I’d see you before tomorrow,” he says.
    “That makes two of us.”
    “Who’s this?”
    Jake crouches down and gives Bailey a vigorous head petting. He scratches Bailey behind his ears, under his chin, the works.
    “This is Bailey. Bailey, this is Jake Gardner.”
    “Hi, Bailey,” Jake says, patting his nose. Bailey loves the attention. His eyes half close and his tongue hangs out, but his tongue always does that. I realize it’s been thirty seconds and I haven’t said anything mean to Jake.
    Jake smiles at me. “I think Bailey likes me.”
    “Bailey doesn’t have very discriminating taste,” I warn him. “He adored his last owner and his last owner used to beat him, so it doesn’t really say much about you.”
    Still got it.
    Jake gives Bailey one last pat on the head and stands.
    “So why did you run away from home?”
    “How many minutes a day do you spend thinking about me?” I ask. “Like, do you have anything else to live for?”
    “It’s your own fault,” he replies. “The less you want me to know about you, the more I want to find out. Especially if it bothers you.”
    “Nice. What gives you the