“My wedding will have chocolate cake.”
“And no slow songs, Miss Veronica.”
“Why not?”
“They’re boring.”
A boy across our table snorted.
“You’re not getting married, dude.”
Noah looked at him.
“Yes, I am.”
“To who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The boy laughed.
“Nobody’s going to marry you.”
I remember the exact second Noah’s smile disappeared.
“Nobody’s going to marry you.”
He looked down at his hands.
Something hot rose in my chest.
“That’s mean, Roger.”
The boy turned toward me.
“What?”
“Somebody will love Noah.”
“Then you marry him.”
A wave of giggles rippled through the classroom.
“That’s enough, boys and girls,” the teacher said, silencing the room.
“Somebody will love Noah.”
But I could see Noah was upset.
