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386 pages, Hardcover
First published March 25, 2014
If I’d spent more time studying instead of chasing after a boy, we wouldn’t be here.Well, then!
I muttered an apology, but the guy just shoved me aside, growling, “Watch it.” Then he kicked my books out of reach with a heavy black boot and walked away.
“People say he killed someone.”
“It wasn’t his fault. I was the one responsible.”OH, IT WASN'T HIS FAULT THAT HE SEXUALLY ASSAULTED YOU IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE SCHOOL? Allow me to clarify, this is the event that "wasn't his fault."
I couldn’t let Reece go back to jail for something that was my fault. He’d only reacted because I’d provoked him. My behavior hadn’t left him any choice.
Reece’s mouth pressed hard against mine. My protests muffled against his tightly closed lips.Oh, please do tell me again how it's your fault for provoking him when he is forcing you into an unwanted kiss? Please, do tell me again how it's YOUR FAULT for provoking him when he fucking slams you into a locker and forces a kiss on you in front of the school?
His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me into him before I could say another word. He tried to kiss me again and I bit down hard. I slapped him hard across the face.
Reece stumbled and grunted, pushing me into a wall of lockers and pinning me with his body. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me into him before I could say another word. He tried to kiss me again and I bit down hard.And then to make up a story about how it's your fault.
“I wanted him to notice me,” I said, looking at the principal through lowered lashes, trying to gauge his reaction. “So I tried changing my hair and wearing different clothes. It didn’t work, so I did something stupid. I practically attacked him in front of a million people.” I cringed. It wasn’t entirely a lie.What the fuck kind of victim-blaming apologist bullshit is this? Why are we making excuses for this boy? Why is this ever, ever ok?
"Touch me.” He took my sleeve and drew my hand to his chest. The damp shirt clung hot to his skin. It rose and fell fast with his breath....Bones? Fringe? No.
Slowly, I slid my hand up over his collar, and spread my fingers over his bare skin. His pulse thrummed hard. My heart raced with his fear and the rush of his desire.
“Don’t you ever wonder where he is?” I asked, tossing my own hope at her as though it were a life raft. “If maybe he’s thinking of us?”Nearly is able to feel things when she touches people, their emotions, their moods.
She leaned against the door. “He’s never coming home, Nearly. That much I know.” She stubbed out her cigarette in her empty mug, the life raft abandoned and drifting in the murky waters between us. “Get your studying done.”
It was coming from anyone I got close enough to touch. I wasn’t exactly sure how it worked—it’s not like they teach this stuff in AP Physics—but I had a theory. Emotion is energy, and if energy is strong enough, it can travel between two points. Maybe I was like a channel, someone other people’s energies could pass through.As if studying and worrying about her dad wasn't enough of a stressor, girls have started getting assaulted at Nearly's school. They were kidnapped, and in every situation, a number is painted, cut, burned onto their body. There is a connection between them, and rather than focusing on her studies and just leaving it to the police, Nearly is determined to find what happened to the girls.
Emily’s had been ten. Marcia’s was eighteen. But why? What was the connection? The message carved in my lab table in physics suggested there’d be others.Oh, I have to give her credit for trying to enlist the police's aid, only she's not the most convincing witness in the world.
“Did you witness something you think is relevant to the incident?”It is absolutely shocking that the police doesn't believe her testimony. And furthermore, she is now considered a suspect. The cops sends someone after her, Nearly overhears them sending an informant to spy on her. A juvenile delinquent who needs to cut a deal to stay out of prison.
“No . . . I mean, yes . . . I mean possibly.” I shook my head. “What I mean is, I think I may have witnessed something, sort of.”
“We cut him a deal. He stays in school and keeps his nose clean, and in exchange we registered him as a confidential informant. Tell him to get in tight with this Boswell girl and we’ll expunge the last assault and battery charge from his record.So this is the lovely Reece Whelan. A potential killer who was involved in a shooting, a drug dealer who's still buying drugs.
“Actually . . .” Reece’s voice was unwavering. “I was hoping you could help me out with one more thing. I’m looking for a little Special K.”What a gem! The violent, explosive, threatening Reece Whelan is going to get close to Nearly and get all her secrets.
His fingers loosened in my hair and his mouth softened. He cupped the back of my head, and I clutched his jacket and kissed him back.There's the wonderful Jeremy, her friend since childhood, the one who will steal from his own family in order to help her pay the rent. The one who truly understands her.
But when I’d touched Jeremy, we felt the same. Alone. He was in his own house, in his own neighborhood, and still didn’t fit. I recognized that kind of loneliness, because it was mine too.Jeremy, who instills feelings of jealousy within her when he starts to see another girl. Will Nearly lose her chances for a scholarship because of her own fucking stupidity in getting involved in a case that might get her ass fucking killed?
“Mr. Rankin tells me you’re awfully close to earning the merit scholarship in chemistry. I would hate to see you throw that away over a boy.”Nowhere Nearly Smart: Nearly is the walking proof that you can be book smart, that you can be a genius in AP Chemistry without possessing a single fucking atom of common sense. Not even a proton of common sense. Maybe a quark or a Higgs boson of common sense, which is to say, none at all.
“The police think you’re involved. They just can’t prove anything. They’re looking for any connections. Motives. Accomplices. Even if you didn’t do it, they think you know who did. They’re watching you, waiting. They figure you’ll either do something stupid and incriminate yourself or lead them to the person behind this.”Someone is out there killing people. The police do not know who did it, but they suspect Nearly because:
Coming here was stupid. What was I going to say? Hello, Officer. I think there may be a crazy stalker at my school.So now the police are on her ass, they've got ex-convict Reece to watch her. She knows this. And yet she's still a motherfucking idiot about not being caught.
“Why were you so mad back there?”I wouldn't go visiting the fucking murder victim fully knowing it might be a set-up.
He gaped at me, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe I’d asked the question. “You were trying to run headlong into what may or may not have been the scene of an attempted murder, Nearly.”
Flowers delivered to Room #214. He was tipping me off.
Who was I kidding? That’s exactly what the killer wanted me to do. Exactly where he wanted me to be. This note felt like a set-up. I’d be playing into his hands again, and I hated myself for it. But I had no choice. It was time to pay [her] a visit.
My name was on the visitor’s log at the hospital anyway. The police would know I’d been there.She makes mistakes, walks herself into stupid fucking situations over and over and over. Bones' Temperance Brennan would NEVER.
Cumulative scores wouldn’t be posted until Friday, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what a ninetyfour percent would do to my grade.Oh, a 94% is fucking awesome, but it's not good enough to beat out her friend and closest rivals. Competition is cutthroat. A 94 doesn't fucking cut it. Nearly needs to focus, instead, she allows herself to be distracted by stupid things like killers, lovers (same thing), and chasing an elusive deadbeat father, scouring the Personals section for possible messages from him.
This was my year. My only year. My ticket out.
And I was blowing it.
He reached toward my chest and I flinched.Oh, it's ok, he's not trying to feel her up, he's just trying to expose her boobs. I completely fucking understand.
Give me a break was written all over his face. “I’m not trying to feel you up.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, covering the buttons with both hands.
“Trust me.” He reached again before I could object, unfastening the top two buttons and drawing the collar wide across my chest.
“A thistle?”You have to look beyond the fact that he forces his way into her bedroom.
“Yeah, you know...little...prickly...pain in the ass. It suits you.”
“I thought I told you to wait outside!” I hissed.You have to look beyond the fact that he stalks her while she sleeps.
He inhaled half of my sandwich and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he pushed past me into the hall, paused at the No Smoking sign, and let himself into my bedroom.
“You can’t be here! My mother will have a stroke!” It came out as a frantic breathy whisper.
“If you’re quiet, she’ll never have to know.”
“If you didn’t talk to my mom, how did you know I was in bed by nine?” The thought both fascinated and horrified me. “Were you watching my trailer last night?”You have to look beyond the fact that he was paid by the police to spy on her.
No answer.
I bristled, and just like that, the urge to confide in him was gone. Like someone turned on a light, and I could see him for who he was. A narc getting paid to snitch on me.And beyond the fact that he was a drug dealer who might have killed someone.
“He was responsible for the death of a student.”So you see, the heart of gold is still there, you just have to be a little patient. You just have to be like Nearly, that is to say, you only have to be a apologetic fucking doormat.
“Who?” I heard myself ask.
“A senior. Shot and killed at North Hampton last year.”
“You don’t get anything! I can’t keep making this about you! I can’t lose sight of what side I’m on, just because you show up on the hood of Lonny’s car and turn everything upside down.”
If he was so angry, why was he standing so close? If I turned everything upside down, why wasn’t he walking away?
“I don’t understand,” I said, wanting to touch him without feeling drunk.