Chapter 27: The Wrong Letter
The freezing wind had blown winter in overnight. Temperatures kept plunging without mercy, the sky hung low and gray, and the air turned dry and harsh. A lifeless pale blanket suddenly covered the entire city.
"Thanks for the ride, Isabella. See you tonight."
"See you tonight." Isabella's hands stayed on the wheel for a second. Then she asked, "Where exactly is your diner job, Jules? What time do you get off? I can pick you up. I hate seeing you walk home so late every night—it worries your sister."
"No, really, that's too much trouble."
"Since you're already calling me your big sister, trouble doesn't matter. But if you don't tell me… dinner tonight is all tomatoes."
Tomatoes were Julian's least favorite food. Even if Isabella cooked them, he could barely stomach the taste. The hatred had stuck with him since elementary school and never gone away.
"Fine. It's just a few hundred feet up the road—the Fast Feast Diner. It looks a little rundown and the place is tiny. I usually finish around nine."
"Got it. I'll be there to pick you up tonight."
"Okay. See you later, Isabella."
Julian grabbed his backpack, stepped out, and closed the door. The sleek black McLaren pulled away smoothly, shrinking in his view until it vanished around the corner.
He turned back toward the school. The open gates showed only a couple of scattered students. Most of the shops along the street were still dark. He checked the time—he had arrived way too early.
He hurried to the classroom and pushed the door open. The room had been sealed all night; the air was thick and stale, heavy with the sharp smell of chalk dust.
Julian held his breath until he reached his desk, dropped his bag, and cranked every window open as wide as they would go. Icy wind rushed in, swapping the stale air for fresh cold that made him shiver hard.
The chair felt like a block of ice. He slid a textbook underneath for padding, folded his arms on the desk, and stared at Margaret's empty seat.
Two neat stacks of books rose at the corner. The drawer was perfectly organized. Everything about her spot felt clean and inviting—just like her.
He noticed the glass water bottle beside her desk leg was empty. Without thinking, he picked it up along with his own and walked over to the water cooler. He filled both and set hers back exactly where it had been.
The second person to arrive was soon after. Hannah Reeves took her usual seat a few rows ahead, her long ponytail swinging. Her face was fresh and pretty, still carrying that cute, slightly youthful spark.
She set her bag down and turned around.
"Morning, Julian, you big shot." Hannah grinned, teasing clear in her voice.
"Morning to you too, Boss Hannah. You're early yourself."
"Haven't seen you on the bus lately. New ride?"
"Yeah. My neighbor drove me."
"Neighbor?" Hannah's interest piqued. She pulled out the chair in front of him and sat. "The woman who answered your phone that night?"
"That's the one." Julian nodded.
"She sounded nice. And pretty, right? What was she doing at your place so late?"
He explained the situation, watching Hannah's skeptical expression. "It really was just that, Hannah. You know me—I wouldn't lie about something like this."
"Heh. You also swore you didn't like Margaret. Now you're her desk mate and you're glowing."
"I am not!"
The second the words left his mouth Julian realized how defensive he sounded. The denial was way too obvious. He had stopped lying to himself, but admitting it out loud to anyone else still felt impossible.
Hannah blinked, catching every awkward shift in his face but choosing not to call him on it. "Sure, sure. You're not. We haven't really talked since the classroom switch. Too busy staring at your new neighbor to remember your old friends?"
"Come on, how could I forget the boss lady? When are we gonna hang out and cause some real trouble?"
"You're the one who's booked solid—school, work, weekends. Got any free time for your poor neglected friend?"
"Guess not." Julian scratched the back of his head and gave a sheepish laugh. "Gotta eat somehow."
"Speaking of eating—did you have breakfast?"
"If I say no, do I get sausage biscuits?"
Hannah curled her middle finger against her thumb and flicked his forehead lightly. "Nope. I stopped bringing extras when you kept disappearing these past few days."
"Fair enough."
"Wait, so you really didn't eat?" Hannah still sounded concerned.
"I did, but… I was kinda hoping for yours. I really like them."
Hannah shook her head, half sighing, half smiling. "Dork."
"Oh, right." Julian dug through his bag and pulled out his French homework notebook, half-hiding behind it. "I, uh… stayed up too late yesterday and there was a ton of homework. Totally forgot the French assignment. Any chance the boss lady could help a guy out?"
"Why not ask your perfect Margaret? She's top of the whole grade." Hannah raised an eyebrow, but she was already turning to her own bag, pulling out her notebook and sliding it over.
"You got here first. Figured I'd knock it out quick."
Julian flipped the notebook open and started copying.
The room fell quiet. The cold wind outside had stopped its assault on the windows. Hannah stayed in the seat in front of him, silent, watching the boy work with hurried focus. His features were sharp and handsome, still carrying that touch of boyish softness.
Since switching into this class, Hannah had quickly gotten to know most of the girls. She kept the right amount of distance and always chose her words carefully, which earned her plenty of gossip. The only rumors she actually cared about were the ones involving Julian. She ignored anything said about herself.
She had overheard a few girls whispering about how attractive he was—his face was the kind that turned heads. But with Margaret sitting right beside him, most of them had given up any real ideas of chasing him.
Whenever anyone asked Margaret directly, she always denied it. Girls knew better, though. The truth showed in the little everyday things she did and in the way she looked at him.
Sometimes Hannah wondered if she should just let it go. Margaret and Julian did seem like a better match.
But her competitive streak refused to quit. She had never liked a boy before. Giving up now would make her feelings feel cheap.
Besides, handing over someone she liked this much just didn't sit right.
"Is this word spelled wrong?" Julian stopped writing and asked.
"Where?" Hannah leaned forward to look at the notebook. Neither of them noticed how close they had gotten until their foreheads brushed together.
"Right here. This one—did I mess up the spelling?"
Julian lifted his head and found himself staring straight into Hannah's dark eyes. They were so close he could see his own startled reflection in them, clear as still water.
Hannah held his gaze and whispered, "Yeah, it's wrong. The L needs to be changed to an H."