Free Here by Denise Grover Swank

Why notice me now?”
    He searches my face. “Because it took me this long to find you.” His hand drops and he turns his attention to the window. “I’m going to call it a day. If you have any problems, give me a call.” He stands and is gone before I can say anything.
    I stay at the library for two more hours, only paying partial attention to my English Lit reading and continuously looking over my shoulder, half expecting Evan to show up. He’s not coming back. You scared him away .
    But his words run through my head.
    Then one day, he found out where she was.
    Because it took me this long to find you.
    …
if you think about it long enough, maybe you’ll figure out who she is .
    How could I be the girl he was looking for? I never left and neither did he... wait. He did. He was missing a couple of days last week. My imagination runs wild before I rein it in. Evan tutors me. Nothing more, nothing less. Of course, after this, he might not even show up on Tuesday.

    I go home and dig out my kindergarten yearbook, flipping pages until I find my class. My finger flies through the pictures, searching for Evan’s name. Nothing. I turn the page and find him in another class, with Sarah. To my annoyance, disappointment courses through my veins.
    I go to bed and relive the afternoon in my head, trying to remember every nuance. It all comes back to me flying my freak flag in front of him. Of course, he tried to make me feel better. Turns out that Evan Whittaker’s a nice boy after all.
    My pillow bears the brunt of my frustration in my vain attempt to get him out of my head.
    Sleep is impossible until I resolve this. I turn on the lamp next to my bed and dig the cell phone out of my backpack. The paper with Evan’s phone number is in my drawer.
    I stare at his number, hoping it will tell me to forget this foolish idea, but the paper only mocks me with silence. With a groan, I punch his number into my phone and my thumb hovers over the send button.
    I can’t do it. I can’t call him.
    Instead, I go to the text screen and compose a lengthy text in my head, explaining my reaction, but in the end, I only type two words.
    Sorry – Julia
    My hand grips my phone for what seems like forever, waiting for him to reply. Defeated, I turn off the light and crawl under the covers.
    Just as I begin to doze, the phone vibrates with a text.
    Jules, don’t say sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. Sweet dreams .
    And for the first time in months, they are.

Chapter Seven

    My semi-return as a functioning member of society means that I’m expected to attend church. Mom beams when we walk in, her family once again intact, even though we couldn’t be more distant if we sat on opposite sides of the sanctuary.
    To my relief, we skip the tradition of eating out after church and head home for sandwiches. Anna goes to a friend’s house when we finish, and my parents disappear for their Sunday afternoon nap. I shut myself in my room and pull out my trig book.
    Halfway through the first problem, my phone vibrates with a text message. I check the screen but already know who it is.
    What are you doing?
    Trig , I text back. What are you doing?
    Calculus. Having any problems?
    My stomach seizes. I want to see him and consider lying, but I type, No .
    His reply takes longer than I expect. Okay, I’m here if you need me .
    With a sigh, I work on my math problem. If he wasn’t so nice, then maybe I wouldn’t like him so much.
    Fifteen minutes later, he sends another text. Do you really not draw?
    No.
    But you’re talented.
    I doodle.
    Have you tried?
    Other than doodling? No.
    I work on another problem, obsessively checking my phone for a new message. Nothing.
    My mind wanders to the Celtic love knot on my page. How could I have drawn it and not known? I don’t remember ever seeing one but must have and forgotten. My subconscious found it buried somewhere and put it on the paper.
    I pull out my notebook and flip to the page Evan looked at. Now