You Will Remember Me by Hannah McKinnon (best sales books of all time txt) 📕

“Ash doesn’t keep secrets from me.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, hadn’t meant for it to sound so childish, either, and when Mom laughed, my scowl deepened.

“Oh, little Bee,” she said. “I bet Ash doesn’t tell you everything he gets up to.”

“Of course I do.” Ash winked at me, but I couldn’t say for sure it was the truth.

Mom changed the subject and patted my head as if I were five, not—at last—a teenager. How I’d longed to call myself that, a teenager, only to learn the word held no superpowers at all. When I looked in the mirror, I still saw an awkward thing staring back at me. Shaggy black hair and an angular face with huge eyes, which might have been fine if I’d lived in an anime comic book. I wondered if it was what everybody else saw when they looked at me, including Ash.

“Hang out with me this afternoon?” I’d said to him three weekends ago, as we’d sat on the porch eating ham sandwiches and drinking Mom’s delicious homemade lemonade. “I want to get some more wood at the beach and make necklaces and bracelets.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Ash replied, which sounded much the way Mom talked to me when she’d already decided I wouldn’t get what I’d asked for.

“Why not today?” I sounded whiny, but I couldn’t help it. We hardly spent any time together anymore, and I missed him.

He lowered his voice and leaned in, his whisper tickling my ear. “Can you keep a secret?” After I’d given him my most sincere nod, and crossed my heart, he’d continued. “Celine’s having some trouble. She needs someone to talk to.”

“What kind of trouble?” I whispered back, leaning in, and throwing a glance over my shoulder to demonstrate my utmost levels of discretion.

“I can’t tell you. I promised, and it’s important to keep your promises. Always.”

I’d insisted I wouldn’t share with anyone, I was excellent at keeping secrets, but he’d still refused to elaborate, maintained it wasn’t his place to tell, he couldn’t betray her. I didn’t like him excluding me from parts of his life, and stomped up to my bedroom, ignoring Mom’s pleas to be quiet because she had another headache.

Ash saw Celine more and more often, hanging out with her after school, sometimes at her house, or at ours as they worked on math and biology because she was, quote, “smart, and a grade level ahead.” His voice had gone soft when he’d made that comment, and I’d winced as it pinched my heart like a crab’s claws.

“Are you okay, Bee?” Ash had asked, bringing me back to the Sunday dinner table. I’d nodded but picked at the rest of my food in silence, not saying another word, even when Ash asked again if something was wrong. Once Brad’s homemade sticky toffee pudding had been devoured, the dishes cleared, and Mom had told us we were free to leave, I turned to Ash, my cold shoulder already thawing.

“Want to shoot some hoops?” I said.

“Not now. Maybe when I get back.”

My scowl returned. Ash hadn’t said anything about going out. Usually we spent Sunday evenings watching a movie or playing basketball or baseball outside. “Where are you going?”

“Out for a little while. I’ll see you later.” He gave me one of his big smiles and turned to Brad, who’d already collapsed on the sofa and buried his nose in the newspaper. “Dad, can I take the car?”

Brad lowered his paper, glancing at Ash over the top of it. “Rules?”

Ash grinned and counted on his fingers. “Drive safely. Don’t drink. Call if I do.”

“You got it, kid. Keys are in my jacket pocket. Have fun.”

I watched Ash leave, uncertainty mixing with curiosity and anger, an unpleasant concoction bubbling away inside me as I heard him drive away. “Tell Mom I went outside,” I said to Brad, adding a hasty please so he wouldn’t call me back to correct me on my manners.

“Be home by seven thirty,” he said through a yawn.

I ran to the garage to get my bicycle, a green-and-yellow racer Ash had helped me repair. We’d spent ages on it together, fixing the gears, getting new tires Ash had paid for out of the money he’d made doing carpentry. He’d even saved up and bought me a new seat because I’d complained the old one hurt my butt.

A mile later I got to Celine’s house. Brad’s car stood in the driveway and I hit the brakes on my bike, making sure I stayed hidden behind the leafy trees. Ash leaned with his back against the driver’s door, his thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his jeans. Celine stood about a foot away from him. Unlike Keenan and Fiona, who’d inherited their father’s Irish looks, Celine had taken after her Italian mother—or her mom’s lover, if the rumors were to be believed. Whatever her parentage, she had long dark hair, which shone in the sunlight, a mix of dark brown and mahogany, and she’d showcased the tan skin on her arms with a fitted pink T-shirt. She had the perfect round breasts I wanted, hips I’d have killed for and a tiny waist accentuating the curve of her bottom, which was framed in a pair of black shorts. No wonder Ash wanted to spend time with Celine. Everyone in school did.

I tried to hear snippets of their conversation but was too far away. As I watched, Celine shook her head before covering her face with her hands. Ash put his arms around her, pulling her against his chest, the way he did with me when I had a nightmare. I knew how Celine felt in those arms, as if nothing in the world could ever hurt her again. A powerful shot of envy like nothing I’d ever experienced before traveled from the top of my head and down to my toes. That was the moment I realized I hated her for taking Ash away from me. The more time he