Echoes by Marissa Lete (best books for students to read txt) 📕

echoes: students talking to each other, equipment moving, Mrs. Andrews helping with the lab from last year. Fortunately, the sounds of the past are generally quieter than the present ones, fading like an echo bouncing around in a cave. Every year that passes since the sound happened puts it farther away until it gets lost in the endless, dull ringing of time. But the noise still piles up, and I have to constantly focus on tuning it out for the rest of the period.

“Chemistry is going to be the death of me,” Grace groans as we make our way into the hallway after class. The moment I pass through the threshold of the doorway, a wall of sound hits me from all angles. Even without the echoes, it would be hard to hear out here because of the loud chatting of students in the hallway, voices bouncing off the metal lockers and concrete walls. But with the echoes, it’s so much worse.

Luckily, years of practice have taught me how to focus on the voices I actually want to hear. “That and your crappy boyfriend,” I reply to Grace. I know she’ll bring the subject back up eventually, so I might as well get it over with.

She rolls her eyes, not even attempting to defend her less-than-stable relationship, and flips her jet-black hair over one shoulder. “Speak of the devil,” she says, glancing across the hallway. My eyes follow hers and I spot Andy walking toward us, his left wrist in a cast and his right arm waving, trying to catch Grace’s attention.

“Grace!” he calls, the sound barely making it into earshot as he shoves his way past students and bulging backpacks towards her. She ignores him, turning her back and shuffling stuff from her locker into her bag. When he finally reaches her, he pauses a few feet away, a desperate look on his face. “I tried calling you four times last night. I can’t apologize if you don’t let me.”

She closes her locker a little forcefully and turns to him, a hand on her hip and fire in her eyes. “Apologize? Go ahead. Spit it out.”

“I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what? Put your hands all over Dana?” Grace’s voice rises, making it easier for me to hear over the thunder of voices around us. I blink in surprise. Grace can’t stand Dana Stevens, mostly because of a certain history between her and Andy. I suck in a breath, realizing that this encounter might end up being more than just the usual small fight the couple often experiences.

“I—I was drunk!” Andy stammers, the frustration in his voice growing. I exhale slowly, mentally preparing myself for the inevitable.

“Exactly!” Grace half-yells, cutting her hands through the air in exasperation. A few heads turn towards us. “You didn’t even tell me you were going to her party. You know how I feel about her! You went behind my back and screwed everything up. Again.” Then, Grace’s tone turns from borderline hysterical to menacingly calm. “Let me spell something out for you, Andy.”

“Grace, please—”

“We. Are. Done.”

Once the words are out of her mouth, she grabs my arm and shoves past him down the hallway. Andy tries to follow, pushing people out of the way as he reaches for her. “Babe, please—”

“Stop,” I say from Grace’s side, turning to glare at him. “Just stop.” He meets my eyes for a long, tense moment, then finally drops his hand. I tug on Grace to keep moving.

“I can’t believe he has the nerve!” Her voice rises as we move through the hall, snaking our way through the sea of people. I breathe deeply through my nose, almost wanting to roll my eyes at the situation. Grace and Andy have been on-and-off since, well, before I even met Grace a year ago. Grace has told me the story a thousand times— he was the swoon-worthy quarterback with girls falling at his feet, and Grace was the new girl from a small town back in sophomore year. They, as Grace often put it, were from two different worlds, but had been brought together by fate. Andy fell in love with her, and despite his reputation, committed himself to a serious relationship. Grace, after realizing he (supposedly) wasn’t the jerk she thought he was and that he really, truly was a good person on the inside, fell for him too.

At least, that’s the way Grace tells the story. My version recognizes their “love” as the dysfunctional relationship it is and includes me, the best friend that often has to deal with the aftermath.

It takes all of my effort not to sigh in disdain. “You really shouldn’t put up with him,” I tell Grace in as gentle of a tone as I can muster. I’ve told her this before, of course, but normally she gets defensive about the subject. This time, however, she sighs in defeat.

“I shouldn’t,” she admits. “Which is why it’s officially over. I’m done with him.”

She’s said this before, of course. And both of those times, they ended up getting back together. But one can hope. “Are you going to be okay?”

We reach the bathroom and Grace pauses, her hand on the door and her eyes slightly damp. “Yeah, I will be. I’ve got you, at least.”

“And you always will,” I punch her lightly on the arm, smiling as wide as I can for her. She laughs softly, then pushes the door open.

“What exactly did he do with Dana?” I ask once we’re in the bathroom. Since the whole school hasn’t been through here in the past few years, the echoes that were screaming in my ears in the hallway dull, and I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my body. I grab a wad of tissue for her to dry her eyes, and she sniffles before answering.

“I