“I guess she overslept.”
“Guess so,” the voice whispers back. I wish everyone would shut up. It can’t be time to get ready for school already.
“London, it’s time to get up, honey. You’re going to be late for school,” my mom says in a singsong voice.
Finally, I let loose a long, audible groan and open my eyes.
My room is bright with the morning sun; apparently I forgot to shut the shades last night. The clock reads 7:00. Ugh. My mom stands in the doorway with a funny look on her face, blocking another person from view.
“What are you doing?” I ask, showing my displeasure.
“Good morning, London,” she says awkwardly, ignoring my question. “Do you want to read your notes?”
I furrow my eyebrows at her, and she smiles like a pageant contestant.
“No,” I grumble. “Who’s with you?”
The mystery visitor shifts and the floor creaks. I sit up in bed and try to see around my mom. She stays where she is for a few seconds, then throws up her hands.
“Fine, I’ll catch you up,” she says, entering the room and sitting down on the desk chair. The visitor tentatively steps into the room, bearing coffee and a bag of something I hope is a scone. I admire his striking features, piercing eyes, flawlessly messy hair.
“Hey, Luke,” I say, with undertones of seduction that I hope fly over my mother’s head.
From my right, Mom gasps. Not the reaction I’d expected.
Luke looks surprised. Then thrilled. Then skeptical.
“You remember him?” my mom asks.
“Of course,” I say, throwing her a look that says I think she’s lost it.
“You do?” Luke asks. Now I’m furrowing my eyebrows at him, too. What is wrong with everyone?
“And you haven’t looked at your notes yet today?” Mom asks incredulously. I wish she’d leave us alone, because I can think of a better way to spend the few minutes we have before school.
“Is that coffee for me?” I ask Luke, arms outstretched. Then I answer my mom: “No, not yet. Why? Why are you acting so weird?”
She lets loose a silly, girlish giggle, and Luke and I can’t help but laugh with her. When we all compose ourselves, I ask, “What’s funny?” which sends my mom into hysterics once again.
Luke crosses the room, hands me my coffee, and sits next to me on the bed. He kisses my cheek and says softly, “You remember me.”
I think of Luke tomorrow; I remember him from next year.
“I get the feeling that I didn’t before,” I say, matching his low tone. Through her laughter, my mom excuses herself and leaves us alone.
“Nope,” Luke says, eyes bright. “But you do now, and that’s all that matters.”
“Well, let me catch up,” I say, grabbing the stack of notes off the bedside table. After I’ve reviewed them, my mood has changed.
“Luke, we need to talk.”
“Is this about yesterday?” he asks, looking hurt.
“Yes,” I say, thankful for the details. “It’s pretty serious.”
Luke tenses and shifts to face me. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
“No,” I say with a little laugh, brushing his hair out of his eyes.