A Walk To Remember by Sparks Nicholas

A Walk To Remember by Sparks Nicholas

Author:Sparks, Nicholas [Nicholas, Sparks,]
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0446693804
Published: 2010-06-14T04:00:00+00:00

A Walk To Remember

Chapter 8

The night of the play was cool and crisp, the sky absolutely clear without a hint of clouds. We had to arrive an hour early, and I’d been feeling pretty bad all day about the way I’d talked to Jamie the night before. She’d never been anything but nice to me, and I knew that I’d been a jerk. I saw her in the hallways between classes, and I wanted to go up to apologize to her for what I’d said, but she’d sort of slip back into the crowd before I got the chance.

She was already at the Playhouse by the time I finally arrived, and I saw her talking to Miss Garber and Hegbert, off to one side, over by the curtains. Everyone was in motion, working off nervous energy, but she seemed strangely lethargic. She hadn’t put on her costume yet—she was supposed to wear a white, flowing dress to give that angelic appearance—and she was still wearing the same sweater she’d worn at school. Despite my trepidation at how she might react, I walked up to the three of them.

“Hey, Jamie,” I said. “Hello, Reverend . . . Miss Garber.”

Jamie turned to me.

“Hello, Landon,” she said quietly. I could tell she’d been thinking about the night before, too, because she didn’t smile at me like she always did when she saw me. I asked if I could talk to her alone, and the two of us excused ourselves. I could see Hegbert and Miss Garber watching us as we took a few steps off to the side, out of hearing distance.

I glanced around the stage nervously.

“I’m sorry about those things I said last night,” I began. “I know they probably hurt your feelings, and I was wrong to have said them.”

She looked at me, as if wondering whether to believe me.

“Did you mean those things you said?” she finally asked.

“I was just in a bad mood, that’s all. I get sort of wound up sometimes.” I knew I hadn’t really answered her question.

“I see,” she said. She said it as she had the night before, then turned toward the empty seats in the audience. Again she had that sad look in her eyes.

“Look,” I said, reaching for her hand, “I promise to make it up to you.” Don’t ask me why I said it—it just seemed like the right thing to do at that moment.

For the first time that night, she began to smile.

“Thank you,” she said, turning to face me.

“Jamie?”

Jamie turned. “Yes, Miss Garber?”

“I think we’re about ready for you.” Miss Garber was motioning with her hand.

“I’ve got to go,” she said to me.

“I know.”

“Break a leg?” I said. Wishing someone luck before a play is supposed to be bad luck. That’s why everyone tells you to “break a leg.”

I let go of her hand. “We both will. I promise.”

After that, we had to get ready, and we went our separate ways. I headed toward the men’s dressing room. The Playhouse



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