Free Thorn Abbey by Nancy Ohlin Page A

Surely, she didn’t know what she was saying.
    I take a deep breath and open the first message.
    Sorry about last night.
    A tentative smile spreads across my face. So Max and I aren’t through.
    Heart racing, I open the second message.
    Do you want to go to the Corn Roast with me next Saturday?
    I read the message again. And again. Is he asking me out on a date?
    Can’t you see that he’s using you to get over his grief? That you’re just a distraction?
    My smile vanishes. I chew on my thumbnail.
    She used to beg me to let her have the room Saturday nights so they could be alone.
    I curl up in a ball, clutching my phone. An image of Becca and Max flashes in my mind, their naked bodies intertwined.
    “Stop it,” I whisper miserably. “Stop it stop it stop it.”
    I lift the phone to my face and type a response to Max, then hit send before I can change my mind.
    Yes.

15.
    O N THE NIGHT OF THE C ORN R OAST , I TAKE FOREVER TO GET ready for my date with Max. I try on six tops before I finally settle on a baby-blue sweater Kayleigh picked out for me at the mall. She said it made me look “a tiny bit slutty,” which I’m not so sure is a good thing. But Devon isn’t here to give me a second opinion, and I don’t want to be late.
    Heading out the door, I’m nervous and excited. Besides English, I haven’t seen much of Max in the last week and a half. He walked me to Latin a few times, and we talked about easy, neutral things like homework and student elections. Becca’s name didn’t come up, not even once. Neither did Devon’s. He told me about a project he had to do for chemistry, plus acouple of big soccer games. I guess that was his way of saying he didn’t have time to hang out.
    Which makes it even more special that we’re together tonight. Special and anxiety producing. On the one hand, I like him and I want him to like me. On the other hand, I hope I didn’t make a mistake, agreeing to this date. Is he truly over Becca?
    You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.
    I still can’t get that creepy conversation with Devon out of my head.
    Devon was like a crazy possessed person that night. Then the next morning she acted like nothing had happened. I’m actually a little worried about her. Her sleep-talking spells have become more frequent and intense. Last Saturday, I woke up to find her having an angry conversation with the ceiling. It lasted an entire hour.
    I wonder if she has a therapist? Maybe I should talk to the girls.

    Max is waiting for me on the bench by the fountain. He looks really handsome in a faded gray T-shirt, black jeans, and leather jacket. His hair is slightly damp, like he just showered. My palms are actually sweaty, which never happens to me—except once, when I had to play a solo at the honors band concert because the first clarinet was out sick.
    Max’s head is bent low, and he is texting intently. When he sees me, he stands up and tucks his phone into his jacket pocket. It’s the same jacket he was wearing in that photo with Becca, on the school website.
    “Hey.” He smiles at me, although his eyes look tired.
    “Hi.” I smile back, trying not to feel weird about the jacket. I mean, what’s he supposed to do—not wear it just because he’s on a date with me and not Becca? “I’m psyched about this Corn Roast!” I say in a fake-cheerful voice.
    “Don’t be. It’s kind of lame. But I’m glad you’re here, anyway.” He wraps his arm around my waist. “Shall we?”
    We start across the quad toward Hunters’ Meadow. He keeps his arm where it is, which is a good sign, I think—physical contact. Then his phone starts buzzing, and he reaches in his jacket and turns it off. Who was he texting? Who is texting him back?
    Cut it out , I tell myself. Just relax and have fun.
    The entire Thorn Abbey population seems to be gathered at Hunters’ Meadow, including students, teachers, and random employees. There is a massive fire pit in the middle of the sprawling