In 27 Days Read online

  I felt very much like a stalker, creeping around trying to find Archer, figuring out his schedule so I knew where he would be. I did a quick walk-through of the library, peering through the shelves, but I caught no glimpse of Archer or his permanent frown anywhere. Maybe today he actually decided to get lunch and eat in the cafeteria like every other junior at school.

  I went down to the cafeteria, slipped into the food line, and bought a salad and some french fries, then stood at the top of the steps by the senior lounge to try and scour the place for Archer. Taylor wasn’t at school today—she’d texted me last night to tell me she was spending the day showing her grandparents from Milwaukee around the city—so I was a free agent for lunch.

  I let out a squeak of excitement when I finally found him.

  Archer was sitting alone in the back of the cafeteria at a small table, a book opened in front of him. I maneuvered my way through the tables toward Archer’s and sat down in the seat across from him, popped the top on my salad container and speared some lettuce and a tomato with a fork, like this was normal and Archer and I ate lunch together every day.

  The surprised look on Archer’s face quickly gave way to an annoyed one as he stared at me over the top of his book. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “Eating lunch,” I said. “What does it look like?”

  He actually had the audacity to wave his hands at me in a shooing gesture.

  I dropped my fork into my salad and narrowed my eyes at him. “I can sit wherever I want, you know.”

  Archer picked up his book again and flipped it open, obviously signaling that our conversation was over.

  I reached out without thinking and snatched the book from his hands. “What’re you reading?” I flipped through the pages, holding the book away from him as he immediately tried to grab it back.

  “Romeo and Juliet?” I said in surprise, looking back at him. “You’re reading Romeo and Juliet? I didn’t peg you for a Shakespeare kind of guy.”

  “You don’t know anything about me, Hadley,” Archer snapped. I was shocked to see a light blush flooding his cheeks. He was embarrassed by Romeo and Juliet? “And I have to annotate it for AP Lit. Give it back.”

  I returned my attention to the page in front of me, where Romeo and Juliet have their first kiss during the party at the Capulet’s manor. Untidy handwriting was scrawled in the margin above a quote by Romeo.

  Romeo is an idiot. He’s blinded by

  infatuation with a girl he doesn’t even know.

  He doesn’t realize that love will be his

  downfall. It would be better in the long

  run for him if he didn’t even bother with

  Juliet. Love never ends well for anyone.

  I didn’t know what to think after reading that.

  I wasn’t a fan of the sappy love story myself, but it seemed like Archer really hated it. I wondered if he had some pessimistic, convoluted idea about love or if he really just had little patience for Shakespeare.

  I gave him back the book and he shoved it into his backpack, still managing to give me a murderous glare as he did so.

  “Are you normally this obnoxious, or are you just putting on a show for my benefit?” he asked.

  “I’m not trying to be obnoxious,” I protested. “I’m just trying to get to know you. I mean, look at what we have in common so far: we both hate Shakespeare, we both like steak fries. Imagine what else we could have in common if we just hung out.”

  “So compelling,” Archer said sarcastically.

  “But it’s a place to start,” I pointed out.

  He examined me with a hard look in his eyes for several moments. I could practically see the cogs whirring in his brain.

  Please just give us a shot, I thought.

  It felt as if eons passed before he actually said something. His voice was clipped and firm as he carefully weighed his words. “All right. Fine. Only to prove we have nothing more in common. And then you’ll give up whatever weird social experiment you’re doing and leave me alone.”

  “Fine?” I repeated. I didn’t process the latter part about making me give up. “Really?”

  A slight smirk curled at Archer’s mouth as he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Unless you don’t want to anymore. Personally, I’m hoping that’s the case.”

  “No, no, that’s not it!” I said quickly. “I just . . . I’m surprised, that’s all. That you actually agreed.”

  “Agreed is a strong word,” Archer said coolly. “Meet me outside the front doors after the final bell. And hurry up. I’m not waiting around for you.”

  As soon as he finished speaking, the bell rang. He was on his feet in a second, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, and I immediately followed suit.

  “So,” I said. “I’ll see you after school, then.”

  He gave me a slightly confusing look, his head tilted to the side, and said, “Right. Whatever.”

  He walked off and quickly disappeared into the throng of students filing from the cafeteria. Seemed like I had a very uncomfortable afternoon to look forward to.

  “Hadley, Hadley, Hadley,” I muttered, massaging my temples. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

  CHAPTER 7

  Cherry Danishes and Geometry

  I found Archer leaning up against a lamppost outside after classes ended, his nose buried in Romeo and Juliet again. I couldn’t keep back a sigh of relief. He hadn’t blown me off. That was a good sign.

  “Hi,” I said nervously as I walked up to him.

  He lifted his eyes from his book and gave a short nod as a greeting.

  “So.” I rocked back on my heels, hands clasped behind my back. “What do you want to do?”

  Archer dropped the book into his backpack, swung it up on his shoulder, and gestured down the sidewalk. “I have something in mind. This way.”

  I almost had to sprint to keep up with Archer’s considerably longer strides as we passed the buses idling at the curb outside the school. We’d made it halfway down the sidewalk before I heard a loud shout of, “Hadley! Wait up! Hey, Hadley!” behind me.

  I turned back and saw one of my friends, Brie Wilson, making her way toward me. Her expression quickly slipped into a mask of shock when she saw Archer standing at my side.

  “Hey, Brie,” I said as she approached, shooting Archer an anxious glance.

  “Hi,” she said breathlessly. “Um . . . I was just wondering . . .”

  The look on Archer’s face was almost a mildly amused one as Brie stared up at him as if she were looking at the devil himself.

  “Aren’t . . . aren’t you going to go over to Chelsea’s tonight?” Brie asked me, biting her lip. “Since Taylor’s grandparents are in town, we’re going to marathon America’s Next Top Model. Remember?”

  “Er, no, sorry. I’m actually—”

  “Sorry, Brie,” Archer said pleasantly. “Hadley and I are hanging out tonight.”

  “Oh. Um. Okay.” Brie gave me a quizzical eyebrow raise as she started to back away. “Right.”

  Text me later, she mouthed frantically before sprinting back down the sidewalk for the buses.

  “I had an art class with Brie last semester,” Archer said as we began to walk again. “Real smart girl.”

  Archer’s voice was all but dripping with sarcasm, and I found that to be a smidge annoying. Archer didn’t need to be insulting my friends when he didn’t even know them. Brie really was smart—she just liked to pretend she wasn’t because she operated under the impression that high school boys liked ditzy girls, much to the annoyance of the rest of our group who told her she was awesome the way she was.

  I quickened my stride to keep pace with him as he set off down the sidewalk again. By the time we stopped walking, we had traveled a considerable distance and my feet were beginning to ache.

  We were standing on the sidewalk in the shabbier part of Manhattan, outside a redbrick building that was in a rather sad state of disrepair. Ab
ove the door, swaying in the chill breeze, hung a blue-and-white sign that said “Mama Rosa’s Coffeehouse . . . A Little Taste of Italy since 1898!” in peeling black letters.

  The place was old, that much was obvious, but it held a certain charm I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  “Wow.” I looked to Archer. “What’s this?”

  “Family coffeehouse,” he grunted before sweeping inside.

  I rushed forward to catch the door, immediately enveloped in a pleasant warmth as I stepped over the threshold. Soon, the rich scents of chocolate and coffee beans assaulted my nose as I looked around.

  Intricately threaded tapestries hung from the wood-paneled walls, along with paintings of what looked like different countryside landscapes. A large marble fireplace was to the left, and burning logs were in the grate, a welcome relief from the cold outside. An overstuffed red couch sat in front of it, along with matching armchairs. Off to the side, pushed up against one of the walls, was an old upright piano that looked as if it had been collecting dust for years.

  The wooden floors were scuffed up, and the type that creaked whenever someone walked across. There were several round and square tables set up throughout the place with three or four chairs pushed up around each. A number of people were sitting at the tables, cups of coffee and half-eaten pastries or bowls of soup in front of them while they fiddled around on their laptops or read books or magazines.

  Toward the front of the coffeehouse was a long counter with an antique register and a freshly packed pastry case. A huge blackboard tacked up to the wall contained colorful chalk displays listing the types of food and drinks offered there.

  Archer didn’t seem to mind that there were customers in the shop, because he shouted, “Ma! Grandma!” as he walked around the counter, toward a door in the back.

  I heard a raspy voice shouting in what I thought was Italian, and then a rather short older woman came bustling out from a back room.

  Her hair was a fine shade of gray, pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and glasses perched on the edge of her slightly crooked nose. She was wearing a long gray skirt and matching cardigan, and I realized a second later that I had already seen this woman before, in a now hopefully nonexistent reality. This was Archer’s grandmother, although I didn’t think I ever caught her name.

  “Well, it’s about time you got here, boy,” the old woman barked. She sounded like she smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

  “Sorry,” Archer said, reaching for a cherry Danish in the pastry case. “I—”

  A woman I instantly recognized as Archer’s mother joined the old woman from the back room, looking almost exactly the same as when I had first met her, except that she was smiling. She was wearing a faded red sweater and a black apron covered in flour, but she looked beautiful despite the exhausted look on her face.

  This was just too weird for words.

  The last time I had met these women had been at Archer’s funeral, yet Archer himself was standing right beside them, looking disgruntled as he ate a freaking Danish.

  “Hi, sweetie,” Regina Morales said to Archer. “Did you— Oh.”

  She stopped midsentence and stared at me with her hazel eyes wide.

  “Sorry,” Archer repeated. “I got held up at school.”

  The look he directed my way obviously said I was the reason he “got held up at school.”

  “Oh,” Regina said again, still looking shocked. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I could feel my cheeks flooding with color.

  “Is this your girlfriend, boy?” the old woman asked Archer bluntly, peering over the rims of her glasses to assess me with shrewd eyes.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Archer snorted as he took a bite out of his pastry.

  “Well, hello,” Regina said, reaching out to shake my hand, a polite smile removing any hint of fatigue. “I’m Regina, Archer’s mother.”

  “Hi,” I said, doing my best to return her smile. “I’m Hadley.”

  Seeing Regina and pretending as if I had never met her when I knew for a fact that I had— How was I even supposed to act around these people?

  “And I’m Victoria,” the old woman added, not offering to shake my hand. “Archer’s grandmother.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said politely.

  Victoria gave a sniff, as if she found me unacceptable, and turned back to Archer. “Well, you better get to work, boy. There are dishes in the back that need washing.”

  “All right,” Archer said, polishing off the rest of his Danish. “Just let me—”

  “Oh, Archer doesn’t need to work tonight, Ma,” Regina said quickly, resting her hands on Victoria’s shoulders. “He probably has homework he needs to do. And it would be rude to leave Hadley by herself.”

  “I’d rather be washing dishes,” Archer muttered.

  Once his comment sunk in, I nearly smacked a hand to my forehead. Of course.

  Archer brought me here so he could work, probably figuring I wouldn’t want to hang around here only to be ignored and left by myself. It was just a ploy to get me to leave as soon as possible. And not only that, but we walked the entire way here from JFK when I knew for a fact we could’ve taken the train and made our travel time considerably shorter and less painful. He was just trying to make me give up, and I was fairly certain this would not be the last time.

  “Idiot boy.” Victoria grumbled, shaking her head, as if all the world’s problems existed because Archer wasn’t going to be washing the dishes. “Well, at the very least, you’re going to have to look after your sister when I pick her up. I’m already late. Work fast, won’t you?”

  She headed off to the back room with another disapproving sniff.

  “Sorry about my mother,” Regina said to me, looking sheepish. “Her frontal lobe was damaged when she had a stroke a few years ago. She doesn’t censor what she says. Why don’t you and Archer go and start your homework, and I’ll bring you both a snack and some hot cocoa?” She gave me another smile before sending a scolding look in Archer’s direction that clearly said he needed to drop the attitude.

  He glowered at his mother, not pleased but not bold enough to say anything in return.

  “Oh,” I said. “That would be . . . really nice, thank you.”

  It was proving difficult not to burst out laughing at the look on Archer’s face now that his plans to ditch me had been thwarted. He walked back around the counter and made for a table in the back. I gave Regina a thankful smile and followed after Archer. I might as well attempt to get some homework done. I took a seat across the table from him and dragged my bag to me, pulling out my geometry notebook. Geometry was my least favorite class, and it would take me the longest to finish the work for it.

  Archer was rummaging around in his backpack and came up with an AP Calculus textbook, what looked like a journal for AP Lit, Romeo and Juliet, The Life of Frederick Douglas, and a stack of notebooks.

  “Holy crap,” I said. “You have to do all of that? What classes are you taking?”

  He dropped his stack on the table and glanced down at my work.

  “Not remedial geometry, that’s for sure.”

  “Funny,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “So I’m not good at math. Big deal.”

  A few minutes of awkward silence passed before Regina brought over two large mugs full of hot cocoa topped with whipped cream, a dash of cinnamon, and a sprinkle of chocolate chips. She also brought a plate of cookies, another cherry Danish, and a humongous cinnamon roll.

  The hot cocoa was delicious and sent warmth shooting through me right down to my toes. I made a mental note to ask for the recipe later.

  “So. Um.” I leaned back in my chair, taking a bite of the cinnamon roll. “You have a little sister?”

  Archer glanced up from his work, frowning. “Yeah. Rosie.”

  I held back a smile, remembering how adorable Rosie had been the night I’d met her, even if it had been under less-than
-desirable circumstances. “How old is she?” I asked.

  “Five,” Archer answered briskly. He kept his head down, his pencil moving diligently. “She drives me up the wall more often than not.”

  That time, I did smile. “But you love her.”

  Archer’s mouth thinned into a tight line as he looked up at me again. “You done with the psychoanalysis yet, Freud?”

  I returned to my geometry work, biting my lip to keep from replying.

  If the giant cinnamon roll and the hot cocoa were distracting, watching Archer work was even more so. He breezed through his homework with barely any effort. It just made me want to prove that I could do my work just as well too.

  But that wasn’t the case, especially because my eyes kept drifting up toward Archer as I attempted to figure out a formula while drumming my fingers against my leg. I had this irrational fear that if I took my eyes off of him, he’d disappear, and I’d wake up and realize this had all been a dream.

  And the more I kept sneaking glances at him, the more I couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. He was wearing a black button-down rolled up to his elbows, and it seemed like he did enough exercise to stay fit. His hair was just starting to curl at his neck and looked soft to the touch. He had such a nice face that it seemed so wrong he was frowning and brooding all of the time. Frowning didn’t suit him.

  When Archer caught me looking at him and I realized I’d been staring at him for the past two minutes, I quickly ducked my head back in my work, but not before seeing him give me a look that made it seem as if he were questioning my mental sanity.

  Just focus on geometry, I told myself. Because that was so much more exciting.

  An hour later, night had fallen, and we’d long since polished off the plate of cookies and cinnamon rolls. It had also become clear that I was probably going to fail this semester of geometry. That, and Archer was the second coming of Albert freaking Einstein.

  “I give up.” I was whining pathetically. “I suck at geometry. I should just drop out of high school now and go find a cardboard box and—”