Free The Love Story (The Things We Can't Change Book 4) by Kassandra Kush Page A

me. Frustration at Zeke and his mood swings, anger at the constant bullying I seem to be facing from every direction and a good dose of fear at the notes and the people leaving them. They’re getting worse and without Zeke as a pillar to cling to, to comfort me, I don’t know if I can stand up to them.
    My lips thin and I can’t control myself any longer.
    “Oh, so now you care what’s going on with me? That’s rich, Zeke.”
    I snatch the paper out of his hands and crinkle it up violently before throwing it into my locker and slamming the door shut as loud and hard as I can. I don’t even have my books for first period but I don’t care.
    “Newsflash: I’m fine and you can lay off, okay?” I toss his own words back at him and take off down the hallway again.
    This time, he doesn’t follow me.
     
     
     
     
     
     

Ezekiel
    90
     
     
     
     
    If I didn’t have drawing for my first period class, I probably would have had to go home to calm down. That or hide in a maintenance closet with a sketch pad and pencil for the entire morning. As it is, I get to drawing and take my seat next to my tablemate—who I’ve finally discovered is named Paula, now that we’re a good month into school—and immediately pull out my sketchpad, ignoring our teacher as she starts to demonstrate some techniques for our next project.
    My hands are shaking so badly that my drawing is shit, but it doesn’t matter. The practice of putting pencil to paper still comforts and soothes me. It allows my screaming brain to settle and quiet so I can sift through everything with a bit of cool distance.
    I can’t believe someone would actually write that. Anyone, no matter how cruel. I wouldn’t have even guessed that Tony himself would actually do something like that. Don’t they realize by now that it isn’t all just rumors? That Evie’s side of the story is the true one, not Tony’s? Even on my darkest day and in my lowest moment, I could never say or think something like that. There’s a freaking lawsuit happening. Can’t they get it into their thick, over-privileged heads that Evie has been through something horrible? Something they can’t even begin to imagine?
    And yet their answer, as friends, is to belittle her. Make fun of her, strike fear and intimidation into her and make her relive the whole, horrible thing with every chance they get. It’s disgusting. I actually feel bile rise up in my throat at the whole idea, especially when I wonder what the other notes have said. If they say something worse than this one or if there is anything worse than this to say.
    Somehow, I doubt there’s much worse than that note. If there is, I’m at least glad that I haven’t descended so far down that I can think of it.
    I draw furiously through my first four periods, finally feeling a single iota of calm overtake me by the time I have to go to lunch and face Evie. I expect her to still be pissed, and she has every right to be. I think of my behavior outside school where I threw her concern back into her and cringe. She should have slapped me or something, but I know how she feels about violence. Still, I deserved it.
    A small, dark haired figure is waiting at the doorway to the cafeteria and I have to push my feet to keep going and not slow down. The Evie waiting for me, however, is far different from the one I expected. Her face is drawn tight and she’s frowning, but with worry, not anger. I get up to her and before I can even apologize, she’s babbling.
    “Zeke, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” she says, so fast I almost don’t even understand her. “I didn’t mean to get angry but I just haven’t been sleeping well and I know that’s no excuse but please don’t be mad. I’m really, really sorry.”
    She keeps going, apologizing and offering excuses, so frantically that all I can do is stare at her. I’m shocked when I see that she has tears brimming in her eyes. That finally galvanizes me