The Way I Used to Be Read Online Free

manner. “Um, I was wondering if you wanted to work together on the history project for Simmons’s class?”
    â€œWhat project?”
    â€œThe one he talked about this morning. You know, he handed out that list of topic ideas,” he reminds me. But I have no recollection of this at all. It must show because Stephen opens his binder, smiling as he pulls out a sheet of paper and slides it across the table. “I was thinking ‘Columbus: Hero or Villain?’ ”
    I look at the paper for what I’m sure is the first time. “Oh. Okay. Yeah. That sounds good. Columbus.”
    Mara takes out her compact mirror and examines her new teeth for the millionth time, obsessively running her tongue over their smooth surfaces. “God, is this what everyone’s teeth feel like?” she asks absently.
    But before either of us can answer, a whole fleet of corn kernel pellets shoot down over our table. Mara screams, “Ew, God!” As she shakes her hair the little yellow balls tumble to the floor one by one. I follow the path of the ammo, leading to this table full of sophomore guys, each one in his pathetic JV jacket, keeled over in their chairs laughing hysterically at Mara as she frantically combs her long hair with her fingers. I hear her voice, almost like an echo in my brain, “Did I get it all?” I look at her, but it seems like it’s all happening at a distance, in slow motion. Stephen sets his bologna sandwich down on top of its plastic baggie and clears his throat like he’s about to do something. But then he just looks down instead, like he’s concentrating so hard on the damn sandwich, there’s no room to think about anything else.
    â€œFire in the hole!” I hear someone shout.
    My head snaps up just in time to see one of them—the one with the stupid grin and pimply face—line up his sight, the cheap, malleable metal spoon poised to launch a spoonful of pale green peas right at me. His index finger pulls back on the tip of the spoon slightly.
    And some kind of hot, white light flashes in front of my eyes, harnessing itself to my heart, making it beat uncontrollably. I’m up from my seat before I even understand how my body moved so quickly without my brain. Zitface narrows his eyes at me, his smile widening as his tablemates cheer him on. His finger releases like a trigger. The spoonful of peas hit me square in the chest and then drop to the floor with these tiny, dull, flat thuds that I swear I can hear over all the other noise.
    Suddenly the planet stops orbiting, pauses, and goes silent for just a moment while all the eyes in the world focus on me standing there with mushy pea splat on the front of my shirt. Then time rushes forward again, the moment over. And cacophony erupts in the cafeteria. The Earth resumes its rotation around the sun. The sounds of the entire cafeteria’s oooohhhhs and shouting and laughter flood my body. My brain overheats. And I run, I just go.
    I’m aware of Mara watching me storm out of the cafeteria, her palms facing up toward the mind-numbing fluorescent lights, mouthing, What are you doing? Aware of Stephen looking back and forth between me, Mara, and his bologna sandwich, his mouth hanging open. But I can’t stop. Can’t turn around. Can’t go back there. Ever. Without a hall pass, without permission, without a coherent thought in my head except Get the hell out , I get the hell out.
    In the hall I walk fast. I can barely breathe, something strangling me from the inside out. On autopilot, my feet race down the hall and up the stairs, looking for a place—any place—to just be. I shove through the double doors of the library and it’s like I’ve just walked outside. Things are somehow lighter here, and everything moves at a more normal pace, slowing my heart down along with them as I stand in the entryway. There are only a few kids scattered throughout the entire