Hard Boy ✔️

63

- EVIL; Melanie Martinez -

Aurora Holland

je veux juste savoir, est-ce que tu rêves de moi aussi ?

Staring with disbelief at the words scribbled on a crumbled napkin, I couldn't help but feel anger and annoyance. Another one of these notes - what seemed like the millionth this week - full of words in French I don't understand.

I've yet to translate any of these notes, but I've now had to move them from my previous hiding spot under my makeup palettes. There are so many of these stupid little notes that I've had to move them to an empty shoe box, shoving it at the top of my closet where I used to hide my journal.

The journal I've yet to find.

My fingers shook as I moved them over the black ink, the foreign words jumbling through my mind. It went from once every other week or so, to once a day, and this is now the third one I've found - today. Whoever's doing this is either really hating me, or they admire me.

And with the reputation I've gathered here at Riverway, I'm scared to think it's the first one.

I decided to stop staring at it looking stupid and shoved it in my hoodie pocket as I slammed my locker door shut. I'm supposed to be meeting Miles at the library, but now the last thing I want to do is study.

My fingers trembled as I walked in the cold air in the direction of the public library. It was past Halloween, and the weather got colder and colder as each day passed.

It was beautiful, more beautiful than Autumn ever was back at Point Prep. It made the walk to the public library much more enjoyable, my mind listening to whatever music played through my earbuds.

By the time I arrived at the library, my fingers were pink and frozen. The tip of my nose was cold as well, running slightly from not having anything covering the exposed skin. It was nice and warm, and I was grateful as it was only when I entered the giant building that I realized how chilly it was outside.

After saying hello to the librarian as I usually did, I went up to the second floor. Miles wasn't there - as I knew he wouldn't be. He informed me he was going to be running late because he needed to take care of something, and I didn't ask questions.

As I made my way to our usual table, I stopped as I saw Quinn studying on her own at a table nearby. I glanced around to see if anyone else I knew was up here before going and sitting across from her, ignoring the glance she sent my way.

"I need your help," I said quickly, tugging the note from my pocket.

Quinn put her pencil down, her full attention on me. "What's going on?"

"I've-" I stopped, glancing around before back at her. "I've been getting these notes for so long, but they're all in French."

I passed the note to her, watching as she read it over a few times. "Rory... who's sending these?"

"I don't know. I don't know what they say, what they ask, anything." I shrugged, "I just know it's been happening since shortly after I moved here. And I pushed them to the side because when I first started getting them it was only every once in a while, but I've gotten three just today."

"Honey, this is a love letter." She mumbled, looking up at me. "A poem. Something you'd find in a book."

"Seriously?" I asked, scrunching my nose. I pulled my backpack from my back, pulling the two other notes I'd gotten today. "What do they say? Write them underneath please."