Ten

Love Letters

Quinn's POV

"You can't be moving!"

Julia shifted so that she was facing me as I slammed my locker shut and hoisted my backpack over one shoulder. Her voice was so loud and high-pitched, unlike her usually calm and decisive tone, that I was surprised she wasn't attracting unwanted attention.

"It's not like I can help it," I said, starting to walk down the hallway. She followed behind me with long strides, seemingly not getting the hint that I didn't want to talk about it.

Dinner the previous night had been a subdued affair after Vanessa had made her grand exit. Once I'd finished off three pieces of pizza and John and Mom had gone into the living room to talk, I headed back up to my bedroom and worked gloomily on my homework for a while before going to sleep. Even my sleep had been restless--I'd dreamt about my running date with Andrew, except suddenly it had been Cody running next to me instead....

"Quinn? Did you figure out that chemistry homework last night?"

I started and turned around to see Cody himself right behind me, watching as I took my seat in Mrs. Smith's class. As usual, I hadn't even remembered walking there.

"Yeah." I pulled out my notebook and shoved it at him. "You can take a look at my work if you want."

While Cody compared our answers, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated, I watched the people around me get settled into their seats. Difficult as it was, I was trying so hard not to think about moving. I figured if I forgot about it for a little while, maybe it wouldn't actually be happening.

Something poked me in the shoulder, and I turned around to see that Cody had taken the seat behind me that was usually reserved for Abby and was now pointing to problem five in my notebook. "How do you do this?" he asked.

I took the pencil he was holding from him and used it to point to my lightly written work. "It's just dimensional analysis like problem four," I explained. "Except now you're converting twice."

"Cody Marlett," chirped a voice that sounded both falsely cheerful and extremely like Mrs. Smith's, "I don't think that's your desk."

Cody blinked up innocently from his seat behind me, causing Elisabeth to giggle. "But Mrs. Smith, it must be much for convenient for you. Now you don't have to see my face for a full hour, because you can stare at Quinn's beautiful features instead."

Even though his comment was entirely sarcastic, I couldn't help but blush as the class erupted into hoots. Snatching my notebook back from Cody, I snapped, "That's just low."

"Low?" he whispered back, smirking. "I just gave you a compliment. Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

"No." I slapped shut my notebook and sat back angrily in my seat, arms crossed and my blush still permanent on my cheeks as the class continued to stare at me.

"Get it, Marlett," called Shane from across the room, causing me to sink still lower in my seat. I figured behind me, Cody was gloating at his distraction from the current issue.

Mrs. Smith, however, was not one to get off task. "Unfortunately for you," she said icily, patting his proper desk, "I can still see Quinn's evidently charming face while you're sitting where you belong. Get in your seat."

Taking extra long to reach his spot, Cody slowly began moving his things, making a snail seem like it could win the Olympics at sprinting.

"Everyone to your lab tables. We're going over the homework." Mrs. Smith now seemed in an absolute no-nonsense mood, and nobody argued as we all quietly transitioned to the back of the room. My phone buzzed in the back pocket of my denim shorts and I made sure Mrs. Smith's back was turned before I checked it.

It was a text from an unknown number. Leaning against my lab table, I shielded my phone with my lab notebook (yet another handy trick I'd learned over the years) and opened the message.

Hey Quinn! Thought you might want to see this. Aren't you so excited your dream guy is finally interested it you?!

Attached was a screenshot of a text conversation between none other than Andrew Summers and his friend Joshua.

Congrats, man, read the bright blue text on one side of the screen. That meant this had been screenshotted from Joshua's phone. Was he in cahoots with whoever was leaving me my pink Post-It notes?

Andrew had replied with a string of question marks, to which Joshua had answered, You scored a date with Quinn Ramirez!

Oh yeah, Andrew had said, I'm surprised I had the guts to ask her.

I grinned as I read that--Andrew had actually been nervous about asking me out!

"I'm glad your chemistry notebook is so entertaining," said Cody dryly from beside me; his phone had been confiscated from Mrs. Smith as he had been texting on his way to the lab table, and now he was regarding me with quite a bit of jealousy.

I stuck out my tongue at him in my most uncivilized way and then continued reading.

When's the big day? Joshua had asked, to which Andrew had replied, Saturday.

You go! Make sure you kiss her XD

It took everything in me not to squeal as I read Andrew's response (Maybe I will), which ended the screenshot of the text conversation.

"Quinn Ramirez!" snapped Mrs. Smith in her Evil Teacher voice. "I asked you about problem one, but you're evidently too preoccupied to answer me."

I swiftly tucked my phone back in my pocket and out of her sight, and was about to stumble to come up with an appropriate excuse when Cody said smoothly, "She's sorry. I'd drawn in her chemistry notebook and I guess I accidentally distracted her."

Mrs. Smith perked up an eyebrow and turned to Maybelline for the answer, and I glared at Cody. "I didn't ask for your help," I said angrily, setting my notebook flat on the table.

"No," he replied, his eyes dancing, "but you needed it."

~*~*~

After Chemistry class, I ran to my locker to see a hot pink Post-It note stuck to the front, alongside a soft white envelope. The mastermind of the Andrew Summers plan had definitely been busy lately.

Enjoy that little screenshot, Quinn? the Post-It note read, written in that same perfect cursive. I bet you'll enjoy this even more. I may or may not have confiscated it from Prince Charming's locker. I think he was too scared to give it to you ;)

Hands shaking, I opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of white computer paper, folded into thirds so that it fit into the envelope. My eyes immediately went to the bottom of the paper, where I saw the name "Andrew Summers" written out as the signature.

No way. He'd written a letter to me?

Figuring Mr. Vann wouldn't care if I was a little late to theatre, I ducked into an empty chemistry classroom to read the letter.

Hey Quinn,

It's me. Guess you don't really know who 'me' is, unless you actually looked down to see the signature. Which I'm sure you did now. So anyway, hi.

Just wanted to tell you thank you again for helping out with the running meeting and wanting to be on the managing board and all that. I really hope you enjoy running like you said, because I'm not going easy on you on Saturday :)

My stomach flipped at that, but I decided to ignore it for the sake of continuing to enjoy the very sweet letter.

Anyway, I'm really sorry we haven't gotten to know each other better because you're a really great girl. We should definitely change that. Not change you being great, we should change the fact that we don't know each other well.

I'm sorry, this isn't turning out like I thought it would.

Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks and I'm looking forward to Saturday and you know, all that.

Okay, I'm done now.

His name was printed out at the bottom of the page, and written underneath that was a PS: You look really gorgeous today.

I actually did squeal this time and hugged the letter before folding it back gently and sliding it into its envelope. This was something that had to be preserved forever and ever.

Andrew Summers had written me a love letter, which while not extremely romantic, was at least clearly very heartfelt.

I was skipping to theatre class, for which I was already five minutes late, and trying to memorize the letter when I spotted Andrew Summers in front of his locker. Since I'd memorized his schedule and knew that he had Yearbook now, he must have been running late, too.

"Hey, Summers!" I exclaimed, approaching him in the hallway and feeling very proud of the nonchalant way I had addressed him when inside I was dancing. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

He smiled and shut his locker, turning around to face me. "Nope, I've got free period now. Mr. Gordon has a meeting so we don't have class today."

"Oh." I absentmindedly twirled some of my hair around one finger and saw his eyes lock onto my envelope. Of course--he must have known I'd read it.

"Thanks for this, by the way," I said, holding up the letter and meeting his eyes.

However, his eyebrows immediately furrowed together confusedly as he asked, "What's that?"

My stomach dropped to my feet and hit the ugly grey carpet of Providence Prep. "You didn't tape this to my locker?" I asked.

He held out his hand and, embarrassed, I gave him the letter, watching as he opened it and scanned it.

"No," he said slowly, tucking it back in its envelope. "I never wrote this. It isn't even in my handwriting."

I snatched the letter back from him and read it again. The writing was definitely a boy's, but not Andrew's? "This is awkward," I commented.

Shrugging, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his khakis. "It's cool. I'd be interested in knowing who left that, though."

"Someone who knows about Saturday and the running meeting," I replied, stuffing the letter in my backpack and out of my sight. I figured I'd burn it when I got home to try and eliminate the humiliation it had brought me.

Right then, I should have brought up the text conversation I'd been sent that morning and ask if it was even his, but I didn't. For some reason, I didn't want him knowing about the pink Post-It notes and my Andrew Summers plan. Not yet.

"Have people been leaving stuff like this for you?" I asked, suddenly suspicious. If there was an Andrew Summers plan that I was to follow, who's to say there wasn't a Quinn Ramirez plan for him?

"No." Andrew looked confused. "How about I walk with you to your next class so you're not late, though? Don't you have theatre?"

I was too busy trying to establish a culprit for all of this plotting to be ecstatic that he knew my schedule. "Yeah," I said absentmindedly, hitching my backpack higher on my shoulder. What if Andrew was being made to do all of this--the asking out on the date and the walking with me to class, and just liking me in general?

As he fell into step beside me and changed the topic to how my school year was going so far, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. He was so sincere and so sweet--he'd never dream of doing anything like that. Just because the love letter hadn't been his didn't mean that he didn't care about me at all. There was even the possibility that the letter was his and he'd just been too embarrassed to fess up and say it; after all, the Post-It note accompanying it had hinted that he hadn't been planning on giving it to me.

Either way, on the walk to the auditorium, I let myself focus on the present and how Andrew made me smile as he talked about his plans for the 5k he was planning. Even if I wasn't particularly athletic, I couldn't help but admire how determined and passionate he was when it came to helping a good cause.

The rest of the day passed quickly. No new Post-It notes came, and all of my teachers gave me so much work to do that I didn't have a spare moment to think about Andrew or the shady love letter I'd been sent. By the time I got to French, I was thoroughly exhausted and wanted nothing more than a long bubble bath when I got home--but knowing the current state of my household, that would be impossible since Vanessa would make sure to hog the bathroom for the majority of the evening.

As I sat down in my typical desk beside Cody and pulled out my homework, I yawned, glancing over to one side of the room to check the clock. Three classes to go, and then I was free.

"I edited the video a bunch," said Cody, pulling out his school-issued laptop and flicking open the lid. "It should be good to turn in."

"I hope so." I'd stuffed myself for breakfast that morning with the rest of the crêpes we'd made, and had even gotten Mom to try one. She'd gone on and on about our evidently strong potential as French bakers and how cute we would be as a couple--both of which were entirely unjustified.

Before Cody could reply, Mrs. Sonatra had made her way to the front of the room, her black floor-length skirt flowing, and had announced, "Bonjour, mes amis!"

"Bonjour, Madame Sonatra," we all chanted back in monotone unison.

As usual, she immediately abandoned her French and resorted to a flurry of English speaking. "I hope several of you did the optional extra credit, because today we will be screening those cooking shows and doing a listening comprehension activity on them."

"Hooray," I whispered so only Cody could hear, and he snorted.

"If you haven't already, please email your video files to me so that I can project them and we can watch what amazing French cooks you have all become!"

Rolling my eyes, I watched as Cody quickly turned in our video and then closed his laptop lid. "I edited it so that it's under five minutes," he said, stuffing his computer back into its bag. "The class doesn't need to endure our crappy language skills for more than that."

I silently agreed, though I didn't think that comment deserved an answer.

The first video that Mrs. Sonatra played was by Julia and Maybelline, who spoke in rapid, fluent French as they prepared some pastries. Not only was the camera quality better than ours, but their voices were much clearer and they didn't even hesitate once.

"This is a joke," said Cody as they chimed "Au revoir!" at the camera while holding up a plate of perfect pastries and the screen faded to black.

I just put my forehead in my hands, praying that our video wouldn't be the one to pop up in front of the whole class next. Surely Mrs. Sonatra would have mercy on us?

But it was not to be, and my too-loud voice came over the speakers next, exclaiming, "Bonjour! Je m'appelle Quinn, et mon ami est Cody."

"Get me out of here," I muttered as I glanced up to see us smiling at the camera, our cooking supplies haphazardly spread across the counter.

Cody lightly punched me in the shoulder. "Come on," he said, laughing. "This is actually hilarious."

By the time we'd gotten to the part of the video where Cody burned his first crêpe, I was over being embarrassed and was now mildly amused, and Mrs. Sonatra watched disapprovingly as we shook in our seats with silent laughter. She made a mark on a sheet of paper that was no doubt our rubric as the video switched off to cheerful French music playing in the background. The class applauded as they had after Julia and Maybelline's video, though our recognition was much quieter and more hesitant.

At that point, Cody and I were laughing too hard to care.