It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

Dive in anytime or join the journey from page one.

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Chapter Thirteen

My parents were a little too excited about my inviting Merrick over for Sunday breakfast. My mom panic-cleaned the house and my dad repainted the basketball court lines in our driveway.

“I don’t think he even plays basketball,” I said to him.

“It’s not about basketball,” he said. “It’s about male bonding. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Yeah,” Freddie said. “You wouldn’t understand, ‘cause you’re not a man.”

“Neither are you, dork brain.”

“Be nice to dork brain, please,” Dad said. “He’s a man in training.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t engage in some pre-visit preparations of my own. I cleaned my room, I did all of my homework, and I put clean sheets on my bed. That one was weird. I don’t know why I did that.

When the phone rang on Saturday afternoon, I was certain it was Merrick calling to find out when he should show up and all that. But it was Danielle. And she had a lot to say.

“Oh my god, I’m so tired,” she sighed. “We went to a party at this junior’s house last night and I was up crazy late. I had half a beer when I was there. It wasn’t awful, but I might try a screwdriver next time. That’s what most of the girls were drinking. Drake was doing shots. I think that’s gross. It’s like pure alcohol and nothing else. If I’m going to drink, I’d rather not be able to taste it, right? Anyway, you should come with me next time. I’ve really missed hanging out with you.”

She went silent and I put the phone back to my ear.

“Are you still there?” she asked.

“Yeah. I thought you weren’t done,” I said, rolling my eyes and praying for a call waiting click to give me an excuse to leave the conversation.

“Oh, well, that’s not even the reason I called. I wanted to tell you that I talked to Drake, like you asked.”

I sat bolt upright, ready to listen.

“You did? What did you say?”

“I told him he should probably leave Merrick alone.”

Probably?

“That he had a really crappy life, and it was probably making it worse to have Drake teasing him all the time.”

Teasing him? More like torturing him. Danielle was so off the mark, it was ridiculous.

“Drake shouldn’t stop harassing Merrick because he has a crappy life,” I said. “He should stop because it’s a totally shitty thing to do.”

She paused. “Well, yeah. That’s what I said.”

I sighed loudly.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“No. I just don’t know that it’s going to make a difference.”

“Well, Drake promised he would stop once I told him I wouldn’t make out with him anymore if he didn’t.”

She laughed a little. I almost threw up.

“Great. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The phone went silent.

“Do you have plans tonight?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“Do you want to come sleepover?”

I don’t know why I got excited by the offer. Maybe because it felt familiar and it used to be something that made me happy. But I knew it wouldn’t make me happy to spend the night at Danielle’s. Not when I’d have to hear about her binge drinking with upperclassmen and French-kissing the devil.

“I can’t,” I said, honestly. “I have plans in the morning and I want to get a good night sleep.”

“What plans?”

“Hey, Danielle, I have to go,” I lied. “My mom needs my help with something.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you at school on Monday then.”

“Yeah,” I said. “See you then.”

She hung up first and I was glad. Of course, I missed Danielle. We’d been friends since we were babies. But she was doing weird stuff with weird people that I just wasn’t comfortable with. And I couldn’t get over how blind she was to her own boyfriend’s cruelty. That she could have seen that awful drawing of Merrick one minute and then turn around and make out with the asshole who drew it the next.

I picked the phone up again and dialed Merrick’s number. One of his cousins answered and told me he was in the shower. It made my face hot. She offered to bring him the phone but I said ‘no’, because I didn’t like the idea of talking to Merrick while he was wet and naked. Or maybe I did like the idea and I didn’t want to. I asked her to have him call me back after he got dressed. She giggled and hung up the phone.

I tried (and then regretted trying) to imagine what phase of showering Merrick was in to determine precisely when he would be clothed and able to call me. When he finally did, I couldn’t shake off the neck tingles brought on by the idea of him fully dressed, cheeks rosy, hair damp, smelling like a peppermint milkshake while he was talking to me.

I kept the conversation brief.

At dinner I called a family meeting to discuss what my expectations for them were during Merrick’s visit.

1. No asking him about his parents

2. No asking him why he doesn’t take his long sleeve shirt off

3. No forcing him to play basketball if he doesn’t want to

4. No making us feel weird by suggesting we get married or otherwise engage in behavior that lives outside of the realm of friendship

Everyone nodded their acceptance and I went upstairs to get ready for bed. I washed my face, and for the third day in a row, I didn’t cry when I looked at myself in the mirror. I’d also secretly stopped using my overpriced medical grade skincare products and started washing my face with Merrick’s magic soap. It didn’t make my acne any better, but it didn’t make it any worse either. And it made me feel good when I used it.

I crawled into my clean sheets and lay awake for a long time.

When someone is on your mind, it’s hard not to imagine where they are and what they’re doing while you’re so busy thinking about them. And you wonder if they’re thinking back about you.

I was thinking of Merrick in his room, lying in his bed, looking through photos of his mom before turning out the light and laying back on his pillows and closing his eyes. And his mind wandering. Maybe he’s nervous about coming over tomorrow. Or excited. Or both. Maybe he’s anxious about school on Monday. I was. Or maybe he’s just sleepy, and his thoughts are going fuzzy, and his muscles are letting go and his breathing is slowing down. Deepening.

And he’s dreaming. And he’s safe.

And I felt safe. Knowing that.

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

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»Trigger statement«

Chapter Twelve

“I love my kids,” Laura said with her mouth full of pizza. “But sometimes it’s really nice when they’re not here. I can hang out with adults for a change.” She reached over and ruffled Merrick’s hair. He grinned into his pizza slice.

Laura finished chewing, thoughtfully. “Any chance that bruise on your nose has something to do with the blood I saw on your shirt in the laundry?”

Merrick shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What happened?” she asked.

He took another bite of pizza.

“Annie?” Laura passed the question to me. I looked to Merrick for a signal he didn’t provide.

“It was just some guys at school,” I said tentatively. “They were giving us a hard time.”

I was instantly afraid I’d made Merrick upset by telling the truth, but his expression remained unreadable.

Laura sighed and put her hand on Merrick’s arm. “Who were they?”

“Nobody,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. Annie was there. She saved me.”

“Not exactly,” I said. “Brad did most of the saving.”

“Who’s Brad?” Laura asked.

“He’s a senior,” I said. “He happened to be there, and he stepped in when things got heated.”

“I like this Brad,” she said. “You guys think you can get me his number?”

Merrick started choking on his pizza. “Gross, Aunt Laura,” he coughed. “That is so wrong.”

“I just want to thank him, you gutter brain.”

Merrick laughed as his aunt pulled him into a gentle headlock and kissed his temple. My heart warmed at their closeness.

“He told me he was friends with Billy,” I said. “Before he left school.”

The silence was deafening. Laura’s face went slack and her eyes lost every hint of brightness. She cleared her throat and let Merrick out of the headlock. Then she stood up from the table and walked out of the room without a word. Her bedroom door closed behind her, and Merrick and I were left in the wake of her sudden exit.

I must have said something wrong. But I didn’t know what.

I looked to Merrick for an answer. He held his hand out to me. I took it and let him lead me away from the table and out the front door.

It was already dark outside, but the mobile home park was lit up and active. The sounds and smells of neighbors barbecuing nearby mixed with the damp, spring air and the intermittent singing of crickets and peeper frogs. Merrick sat close to me on the steps. His leg and shoulder were pressed against mine which was nice because there was a chill in the air and I was just in a t-shirt.

“I know I said you could ask me anything you want to know about me,” he said. “And you can. You can ask about me. And you can ask about my mom, if you want. You just can’t ask me about Billy.”

“Okay,” I said. I wanted to ask why, but that would have been asking about Billy, and I wanted to respect the line he was drawing with me.

“I just can’t talk about him,” he said quietly. “Or my dad. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I said. “You’re allowed to have secrets.”

“Yeah. But I wish I didn’t have these secrets. I really wish I didn’t.”

I leaned a little harder against him to keep warm, but also to let him know I was supporting him. His hand moved in search of mine, but it was stopped by the sound of the door opening behind us. We scooted apart as Laura wriggled herself in between us and sat down. She put an arm around each of us and squeezed us against her.

“I’m sorry the world isn’t a nicer place for you,” she said. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Merrick said. “We’re okay.”

“Being a teenager sucks for everybody,” she said. “We all pay our dues when we’re young. It’s part of whatever sick deal humanity has with the universe.” She turned to look at Merrick. “But you’ve paid way more than your fair share, over and over again, and that makes me really fucking angry at the world.” Her voice wavered with emotion and she suddenly took her arm from around my shoulder and wrapped Merrick in a full hug.

“It’s okay.” he said, patting her arm. “I promise. It’s okay this time.”

“I know,” she said, recovering. “You have Annie now.” She turned to me and smiled through her tears. “Thank you, Annie. For being here this time.”

“You’re welcome,” I said shyly. It was hard being so close to her emotion. I sensed Merrick was getting antsy about it too.

“But the next time I come home and find you two gooping in Merrick’s bedroom without a chaperone,” she said sternly, “I’m going to have something to say about it.”

“What!? We weren’t doing anything!” Merrick insisted. “Don’t make it weird. Annie hates when things are weird.”

“I’m not making it weird,” she said. “I’m just not ready to be a great aunt in my thirties.”

“Oh my god, Aunt Laura!” Merrick buried his face in his hands. “We’re fifteen! And we’re just friends. And, oh my god.”

“Fifteen or not. Goop is a powerful aphrodisiac, and I know that for a fact because the first time I gooped with your uncle I ended up pregnant with twins before my nineteenth birthday.”

That explained why Laura looked so young. And how she understood how complicated it was being a teenager. It hadn’t been that long since she was one.

She stood up and I almost grabbed her hand to make her stay between us because I didn’t think I could survive the thick cloud of humiliation she was leaving us in.

“I’m going to bake something chocolatey,” she said. “And Annie?”

“Yes.”

“If those guys at school don’t let up, I want to know about it.”

“Okay,” I said.

She left us on the steps and closed the front door. Merrick still had his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled through his fingers. “That was awful.”

“It’s okay.” I smiled. “Obviously your aunt and my dad took the same class in embarrassment tactics.”

“I swear I wasn’t trying to seduce you with the goop thing.” He looked at me, red-faced. “I didn’t know it was an aphrodisiac. If it even is. My aunt might be full of shit. I just wanted to do something nice for you. For your skin. Because I know it makes you sad.”

“It was nice,” I said. “And I haven’t been feeling as sad about that stuff lately.” It was true. I really hadn’t.

“Good,” he said.

There was a space between us now and I missed his warmth. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to rub away the goosebumps.

He unbuttoned his flannel shirt and slid it off his shoulders. “Here,” he said.

I grinned gratefully, slid my arms into the warm, worn-soft sleeves, and hugged the peppermint scented fabric around me. Merrick’s arms were bare now, and even in the shadow his body cast over them, I could see his scars. I was still afraid when I saw them, but I was glad he didn’t have to hide them around me anymore.

“Why did they send you away?” I asked suddenly. “At the end of eighth grade?”

“They thought I tried to kill myself,” he said.

The answer shocked me even though it probably shouldn’t have.

“Did you?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “It was an accident. I mean, I meant to cut myself, but I didn’t mean for it to be that deep. When I saw the blood, I passed out. I was just lucky my aunt was home and found me fast. Otherwise, I could have died.” I scooted closer to him and linked my arm through his. “But then Drake would have no one to torture at school all year?” He smiled weakly.

“Don’t say his name,” I said. “I hate him so much I want to scream.”

“I know,” he said. “I like that you hate him for me. I like having you on my side.”

“I’ll always be on your side,” I said.

“I hope so.”

We stopped talking for a while. And when his hand moved toward mine, I met him halfway. I liked holding his hand. I really did. It didn’t feel weird at all.

“So, do I have to wait until Monday to hang out with you again?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “Do you want to come to my house for breakfast on Sunday? My mom always makes a huge breakfast on Sundays.”

“Why are you always trying to put food in me?”

“I don’t know. Why are you always crying in front of me?”

He laughed and I was glad because it sounded mean, what I’d said. “Because I’m sad,” he said. “But now that I know how much you like it, I’ll have to find other reasons to cry in front of you.”

“No, thank you,” I said.

“Why? Too… what was it? ‘Weirdly hot’ for you?”

“Shut up.” I blushed. “I never said that.”

“You know, it’s weirdly hot when you lie.”

I punched his arm playfully.

“It’s even weirder and hotter when you hit me.”

“I’m leaving.” I stood up, stifling my laughter.

“Oh my god, it’s so unbelievably weird and hot when you walk away.”

“I’m telling your aunt,” I warned.

“Crap. Okay, I’ll shut up.” He scrambled to his feet and put his hand on the door, as if I was really heading inside to tattle on him. I wasn’t. “I just really like having fun with you,” he said.

“Me too. Cry baby.”

“Aww.” He put his hand over his heart dramatically. “That’s so hot,” he teased. “Please keep calling me that. Forever.”

“Forever’s a long time,” I said.

“I know.” He held the door open for me and smiled. “That’s what I like about it.”

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I WROTE ANOTHER YA BOOK AND IT’S DEBUTING THIS FALL!

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

Dive in anytime or join the journey from page one.

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»Trigger statement«

Chapter Eleven

“You guys gooped without me?!”

I sat bolt upright in half a second. The room spun into focus. Merrick was still beside me, yawning and touching his cheeks with both hands. The goop had dried and was peeling along his jawline and the sides of his nose. I could feel the tightness in my own cheeks as I turned my head toward the voice that had startled me awake. A woman was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

I searched the room for some sign of how late it was.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t time travel or anything. It’s only 6:15,” she said. “You guys were sleeping though. Adorable.”

“Annie, this is my Aunt Laura,” Merrick said.

Laura beamed at me and extended her hand. “Hi, Annie. Nice to meet you.”

She was pretty, and very young looking. I was surprised that she could be anyone’s mother.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I said, still disoriented from my unexpected nap.

“You guys have reached rubber cement phase,” Laura said. “Better wash that stuff off. Annie, you can use my bathroom if you want.” She waved me to the door and I got up slowly to avoid getting dizzy.

“That’s why I never Goop and drive,” she said. “That stuff always knocks me out.”

I giggled groggily and followed her down the hallway and through the living room. The house smelled like pizza and my mouth started watering. I didn’t think I’d want to eat again after our milkshake and Oreo feast. But I was always hungry for pizza. It was by far my favorite acne trigger.

A pang of worry set in as I entered the bathroom connected to Laura’s bedroom. What if my skin reacted badly to the goop?

I took a deep breath and stepped up to the sink.

“Woah,” I said out loud. And then I laughed. I looked like a melted candle. The goop was falling off in chunks along my hairline and under my chin. I turned on the faucet and filled my hands with warm water. I splashed it over my face and the goop turned back into its original syrupy consistency and started sliding off into the sink. I noticed the faint hint of peppermint soap as the goop mixed with the warm water. I knew I’d ever be able to smell that soap and not think of Merrick. For like, the rest of my life.

Laura kept a small bottle of the soap in her bathroom, too. Since I didn’t have my usual skin cleanser handy, I decided to use a little to get the last goop residue off my face. I squeezed a dollop into my hands and rubbed them together to create a lather. Then I smoothed it over my skin in circles. I was gentler this time. Remembering how softly Merrick touched my face made me want to treat it better. To touch it in a way that didn’t hurt.

I rinsed away the soap and patted my skin dry with a towel. Then I looked at myself in the mirror.

And I didn’t want to cry.

There was nothing different about the way I looked. Not really. Maybe it was just the aftereffects of the goop hypnosis. I just looked at myself and thought, okay. There I am.

I didn’t read too much into it. It was possible Laura had better lighting in her bathroom than I had at home. She was sitting on her bed when I came out.

“That stuff’s amazing, right?” she smiled.

“Yeah, it was nice,” I said. I got a little uncomfortable recalling what was so “nice” about my goop experience with Merrick in front of his aunt. But she was very laid back about finding us sleeping together in his room with our hands intertwined, so I shook it off.

“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” she said, “and then I’ll join you guys for pizza.” She smiled widely. “I’m so glad you’re here.” I thought she was going to hug me on her way into the bathroom, but she didn’t. I think it was just her energy. She looked like she was about to hug everyone and everything she passed, like she was leaning forward on her toes constantly.

I headed back to Merrick’s room and found it empty. He was still rinsing off his goop in the bathroom.

I picked up the copy of Little Women and opened it to the bookmarked page at the center. That’s when I discovered it wasn’t a real book, but one of those little storage boxes made to look like a book on the outside.

“You found my favorite book,” he said.

He was standing in the doorway drying his neck with a towel. When I looked at him his mouth dropped. “Wow,” he said.

“What?” My stomach twitched nervously.

“You look good.”

“I do?” My hand moved to cover my cheek instinctively, but I ran it through my hair at the last minute instead.

“Yeah. Your eyes look… really… big.”

I laughed. “Like bigger than usual?”

“No.” He shrugged shyly. “They’re just…um… good.”

“Weird?” I squinted at him.

“Sorry.” He blushed through a giggle. “I think I have a goop hangover.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and took the book box from me. “You do have good eyes though. They’re like my favorite part of your face.”

My heart punched the inside of my ribcage. “Again… weird,” I teased. “And since when?”

“Since always,” he said. “I like that they look blue when you wear lighter colors, but they look green now, because you’re wearing a dark shirt. They look the greenest when you wear black actually.”

My tongue felt too big for my mouth.

He pulled a stack of photographs from the box and handed the first one to me. “That’s my mom,” he said. I would have guessed it even if he hadn’t told me. She was beautiful, with Merrick’s tan skin and hazel green eyes. Her hair was lighter, spiced with blond. The photo was taken at the beach, with her sitting on the sea wall, a low sunset behind her. She was young in the picture and I wondered if it was taken before Merrick was even born.

He handed me another photo, this one of his mother with him on the front steps of a house. It was autumn and they were surrounded by pumpkins and red and brown maple leaves. Merrick was boyish and I guessed around seven. His hair was longer then and a little curly, with hints of the same blond his mother’s had.

“Pretty,” I said.

“Yeah. She is.”

It had been eating away at me. Merrick always referred to his mother as if she was still alive. In the present.

“Why do you always talk about her like she’s still alive?”

He went quiet. He took the photos from my hand and put them back in the box and closed it. Then he stood up and started to walk to the door.

“Wait, Merrick, I’m sorry? I don’t know why I asked you that? That was stupid. Of course, you’d talk about her that way. Don’t leave. I want to see more pictures of her.”

He turned around and his eyes were filled with tears. My stomach clenched with guilt. What was wrong with me and my stupid mouth?

“It’s not what you said. It’s just a sad time for me is all.” He wiped his eyes. I was frozen to the mattress. I wanted to stand up and go hug him, but I couldn’t move.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, regretting it instantly. “Sorry. You don’t have to. I don’t need to know everything,” I stammered. “I just… care about it. And you.”

“I know,” he said. “And I did want to tell you… that it’s different this time. It feels less sad than it used to. And maybe I feel a little bad about that. Because I don’t ever want to stop being sad about my mom dying. But you’re here now. And… it’s just different. But it’s good different. I think.”

I finally stood up and took a step toward him. He met my eyes and then rushed over to wrap me in the hug he desperately needed. And I needed it to. My eyes welled up and I gripped him harder. He sobbed softly against my neck. His hot tears kissing my skin.

He took a step back, but his hands lingered on my waist, almost like he needed to keep them there to steady himself. “I’m just so glad I decided to start talking to you,” he said. “I think we’re good. As friends. Don’t you?”

I nodded because I knew my voice would break if I tried to talk.

“Me too.” He laughed a little as he wiped his eyes again. “It would just be really awesome if I didn’t have to cry in front of you every freaking day.”

“It’s okay,” I said, sniffling. “It’s weirdly kind of hot.”

“Okay!” He threw his head back laughing. “That has to be against the rules.”

“What? I said ‘weirdly’ and ‘kind of’. I was acknowledging the line. And you’re the one writing poems about my eyes all the time.”

He gasped comically. “YOU FOUND MY EYE POEMS OF YOU!?”

“That’s what happens when you leave me alone in your bedroom,” I teased back.

“Fine,” he said turning away from me. “But just so you know. You’re the only girl I’ve ever gooped with. And I don’t plan to goop with anyone else.” He waited in the doorway for me to pass through. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as I did. “So, stick that in your weird friend rules pipe and smoke it,” he said.

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

Dive in anytime or join the journey from page one.

Subscribe now

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»Trigger statement«

Chapter Ten

“Ouch,” he groaned, rubbing his stomach gingerly.

“Too many Oreos?” I asked.

“Too much laughing,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in like…ever.”

He rolled up to sitting and scooted beside me with his back to his mattress, which was just on the floor. He didn’t have an actual bed. He had a small desk, covered in papers drenched in Sharpie. A bed table with a travel sized alarm clock and a lamp. He was in the middle of reading Little Women, or he wanted me to think he was, because there was a copy on the bed table with a bookmark about halfway through.

The floor was carpeted, green, and he had a few posters on his walls. Mostly landscapes with winding roads and sunsets. And one of the ocean on a stormy day. There was a door next to a short dresser at the far end of the room that was closed. I assumed it was a closet full of long-sleeved shirts. And the whole place smelled like peppermint. So far, the familiar scent was the strongest in his room.

I liked the way it smelled.

Simple.

It wasn’t fake like Drake’s gag-worthy cologne.

It was Merrick.

It was just… him.

“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked. It was the only room I hadn’t been able to spy in since I got there.

“Yeah, it’s to the right of the twins’ room.”

I saw him reach for the copy of Little Women out of the corner of my eye as I left his room and headed down the hall. Maybe he really was reading it.

I only had to open the bathroom door to know I had discovered the source of Merrick’s fragrance. I stepped in and closed the door behind me. I inhaled deeply and giggled. What was he using in there that smelled like that? I spied a plastic bottle on the sink with a blue and white label: “Dr. Bronner’s Magic Peppermint Soap.”

Bingo.

I nosed around the bathroom and discovered a larger bottle of the same soap in the shower. In fact, it was the only thing in the shower. I was spending too much time looking in Merrick’s shower.

I used the bathroom for its intended purpose and then did my best to ignore my face in the mirror as I washed my hands with Merrick’s secret soap. I took the bottle back with me to his room so I could ask him about it. It was very intriguing.

He was lying on his bed when I re-entered the room, which made the back of my neck tingle mysteriously.

“What is this stuff?” I asked, holding up the bottle I’d stolen from the bathroom.

“My magic soap,” he said.

“Is it really magic?”

“Yes.” He widened his eyes, reverently. Like a wizard.

I laughed. “Shut up. It’s all over your bathroom. What’s the story? Does it do something for you? Other than make you smell really good.”

He smiled and my cheeks burned.

“It reminds me of my mom,” he said.

“Oh.” I suddenly felt like I was prying.

“She uses it on everything. Like, literally, everything. Laundry, dishes, her teeth.”

“She used soap on her teeth?” I grimaced.

“It’s not like regular soap. You can use it for lots of things. Look how ridiculous the label is.”

I ran my eyes over the blue and white sticker and found it covered with rambling quotes, instructions, and anecdotes. “Weird.”

“I like it,” he said.

“Do you brush your teeth with it?” I asked.

“No.” He giggled. “I’m not as hard core as my mom is. I use it on my hands and my hair and… the rest of me.”

My neck tingles returned with a vengeance.

“You can take that home with you if you want,” he said. “I have tons of the stuff lying around.”

“Okay.” Like having a bottle of Merrick in my possession at all times. Amazing.

“Holy crap, I totally forgot!” He shot out of bed and swerved around me to the door.

“What?”

“I made goop!” he called from halfway down the hallway.

What the heck was goop?

I could hear him fumbling around in the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge, and padding down the hall. He came back in carrying a bowl and a dish towel, grinning like a mad scientist.

“Hold this,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He left the room again and I stood holding a bowl of mysterious… goop. The bowl was cold from the fridge. I was tempted to stick my finger in and taste it, but I didn’t even know if it was edible.

He zipped back in and traded me a fabric headband for the bowl. “Put that on, to keep your hair out of the way.”

My stomach dropped. This felt too familiar. Like something I would do with Danielle at a sleepover.

“We’re not going to put that on our faces, are we?”

“Yes,” he said. “This stuff is amazing. You’ll love it. My mom and Aunt Laura used it all the time when they were our age. My aunt still makes it when her psoriasis flares up.”

“Yeah,” I hesitated. “I really can’t put anything on my skin. It’ll get pissed off, trust me. Danielle gave up giving me facials like a year ago.”

“It’s not a facial. And I’m not Danielle.” He grinned. “Here. Sit.” He’d made a little lounge chair for me out of the pillows from his bed. I didn’t move.

“Trust me,” he said. “It’ll feel really good.”

I wanted to trust him. And I wanted to feel good. So, I sat down.

“What the heck is it?” I asked, scrunching my nose up as he stirred the mixture with his fingers. It was the color of honey, but opaque. And there were bubbles in it.

“It’s kind of a family secret,” he said. “But there’s nothing bad in it. You could eat it, except for the tiny bit of peppermint soap I always add. That’s my secret ingredient.” He beamed proudly.

I wasn’t feeling confident about this, but the look on his face was so sweet and earnest. And he’d gone to the trouble of making his special, secret, family goop just for me.

“Do you want me to put it on for you?” he asked, sitting back on his heels. “Or do you want to do it yourself?”

“I can’t really see what I’m doing without a mirror. So… I guess… you can do it.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Close your eyes.”

I did.

The first touch of his gooey fingertips on my forehead made me jump a little.

“Cold, I know,” he said.

The goop was cold, but his fingers were warm, and the two of them together felt… so wonderful. My eyes filled with tears.

“Are you okay?” he asked, taking his fingers away.

“Yes,” I said. “It just… feels really nice.” I couldn’t remember the last time anyone, including me, had been so kind to my skin. I opened my eyes, and he was waiting, worried. “You can keep going. I’m okay.” I closed my eyes and let him smooth the peppermint potion over the rest of my forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, and neck.

He was so gentle. Nothing hurt. I almost forgot my skin wasn’t perfectly smooth.

I could hear him breathing, and I found myself trying to match my breaths with his.

“Okay,” he said. I opened my eyes. “Still good?”

“Really good,” I said. It was like being under hypnosis. I was so relaxed. “Can I do you now?”

He laughed and crinkled his nose. “That’s weird.”

“Shut up.” I laughed hazily. “I meant put goop on you.”

“I know,” he said. “Sure.”

He handed me the bowl and leaned back against the mattress. I stuck one of my pillows under his back as he settled in. He closed his eyes. I dipped my fingers into the bowl and brought them to his forehead, smoothing a thin layer over his beautifully tanned skin.

I was extra gentle around his nose, which was bruised on one side from his fight with Travis. His lips were parted slightly, and I felt his warm breath escape in the moment my hand crossed from one cheek to the other.

It was very intimate. And it was hard not to view the whole thing as a massive step over the friend line, but I kept going. Until his face and neck were covered.

“Done?” he asked.

“Almost,” I said. I set the bowl down and reached for his right sleeve.

His head snapped forward. “Wait,” he said. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” I said. “But I want to.”

He looked at me, sleepily, and then gave in. He leaned back and closed his eyes again. I unbuttoned his sleeve and rolled it up to his elbow. My tears came back, but this time for a different reason.

I slid my fingers back in the goop, still miraculously ice cold, and brought them to the damaged skin of his forearm. He shuddered at first, but then he relaxed under my touch. The lump in my throat became harder to swallow as I smoothed my hand over the rough raised skin of his scars.

I set his arm on his lap and climbed back into my pillow seat beside him.

The music he had been playing earlier had stopped and it was so quiet. I laid back and closed my eyes and just listened to our breathing.

Until a persistent tug in my chest made me ask.

“Can I hold your hand?”

“Sure, why not?” he asked, his eyes still closed.

“It’s not against the rules?”

“What rules?” He was smiling.

“I know there must be rules about friends like us. To make sure we stay on the friendship side of things. And it doesn’t get… confusing.”

“Uh huh.”

“And I just want to make sure it’s not an overstep. To hold your hand.”

“You know you’ve held my hand already, like a couple of times.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But those times I did it because I thought I needed to. This time I just… want to.”

I sensed he’d turned his head to face me, so I turned mine and opened my eyes.

I laughed because he was covered in goop. But so was I, and he wasn’t laughing.

“I think instead of worrying about whether something we do is breaking a rule, we should just worry about whether it feels right. To us.”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“Also, I’m pretty sure as long as we’re not kissing each other, we can still call ourselves friends.”

I must have visibly blushed because then he said, “And we should probably avoid mentioning the word kissing. Because that definitely felt weird.”

“Very weird,” I said, breathing over the rambunctious butterflies in my gut.

“Alright, shut up and hold my hand,” he said giddily. “My aunt will be home in twenty minutes, and I’m not done being insanely happy yet.”

I laid back on the pillows, grinning from ear to ear, and reached out for his hand. I slid my fingers between his and let our palms rest together.

And I stopped worrying about whether we were breaking any rules. And I started thinking about how it felt to me. And to him.

And it felt very right.

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

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Chapter Nine

“Why do people have to get bullied?” I asked my dad on the car ride to Merrick’s.

“That’s a good question. And one I wish I had the answer to.”

I went quiet, disappointed that adults were as clueless as the rest of us.

“Is someone bullying you?” he asked with ample dad concern.

“Not me,” I said. “Merrick.”

“Oh. What is he being bullied about?”

“I can’t really tell you. It’s personal. For him,” I said. I was grateful Dad didn’t press me on it. “These jerks at school… they won’t leave him alone. It’s awful and I hate it.”

“I’m sorry. Has Merrick talked to someone at school? A counselor maybe?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “But I don’t actually know.”

“That might be a start,” he said.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

It wasn’t the wisdom I was looking for. What was a counselor going to do for Merrick? If they weren’t going to beat the crap out of Drake Fletcher, I wasn’t interested.

“I had a bully growing up,” he said. “Joel Tenison. He used to chase me on my bike with his car.”

“Oh my god,” I gasped. “That’s really dangerous.”

“I know,” he said. “I took a bad fall one time and broke my wrist. He just drove by laughing at me. I thought he was going to turn around and run me over.”

“What did you do about it?” I asked, horrified.

“Not much,” he said. “I got tired of tattling on him and having people tell me to stand up for myself. I mean, that guy was completely insane. I wasn’t going to be able to reason with him. So, I just got used to being scared all the time. Until one day, he stopped chasing me. I don’t know why. He ran out of gas, I guess. But it stuck with me. Bullies always stick with you.”

“But why are they like that?” I asked, feeling helpless and sick.

“Some of them might have been bullied themselves,” he said. “Or have something they think they need to prove. Or hide. And some of them might just be psychotic. But whatever the reason, it’s wrong. It’s wrong to treat other people like that. Always.”

I saw the entrance to Merrick’s neighborhood and directed my dad to turn right.

“Number one eleven,” I said.

“Lucky number one eleven,” Dad chimed as he turned into the mobile home park. Judging by the state of some of his neighbor’s houses, I didn’t think Merrick was all that lucky.

His house was nice though. It was twice the size of most of the other houses on the street, and there was a small lawn and shrubs lining the front steps. A few spring bulbs had bloomed in patches along the driveway.

My heart started to pound as we pulled in. A return of the anxiety I’d felt all afternoon.

“So,” Dad said in a voice that made me cringe with embarrassment. “First time hanging out at a boy’s house. Are you nervous?”

“No,” I lied, avoiding his eyes.

“What kind of boy is this Merrick anyway? Never mind.” Merrick appeared at the front door and started jogging over to the car. He was wearing the shirt I gave him. “A very cute boy.”

“Oh my god,” I groaned.

“A boy who knows how to greet my daughter and show respect for her very cool dad.”

“Don’t say anything weird to him,” I begged pointlessly. “Please, Dad.”

“What’s weird?” He rolled down the window. “Hello there, young sir. You must be the famous biology lab partner that’s been delighting my Annie for several evenings on the phone.”

That was weird.

Merrick smiled and held his hand out to my dad. “I’m Merrick,” he said.

“I’ve heard.” My dad shook his hand. “Good handshake. I fully support your friendship with my daughter.”

Merrick laughed. “Thank you. I’m honored.”

They were such dorks. I was mortified. I was also ecstatic to see Merrick. Smiling. Happy. Funny. Everything that made him great. Now to get rid of my ridiculous dad.

“Mr. Archer, I wanted to tell you, my aunt had to stay late at work, so it’s just going to be me and Annie until about six. I thought you’d want to know that.”

“I take back my support of your friendship and give you my blessing in marriage.”

“DAD! What the hell?” I’d never blushed so hard in my life. Dad was the worst at this.

Merrick found the whole thing hilarious. “Here’s our home phone number and my aunt’s work number. If you need to call for any reason.”

My dad clutched the piece of paper over his heart. “I love you, son.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I threw my shoulder into the door and got out of the car. “Goodbye, Dad,” I said, slamming the door in what I hoped would be a punctuation mark on his humiliation campaign.

“Goodbye, daughter. I will pick you up at nine. Bye, Merrick. Great name, by the way.”

“Thanks, I was born with it.”

“Ha! Beautifully executed punchline, my lad.”

My dad pulled mercifully out of the driveway. We waved until he was out of sight. Merrick turned to me with a massive grin on his face.

“Shut up,” I said. I pressed my lips together to stop them from smiling.

“I didn’t say anything,” he laughed. “Your dad is awesome.”

“No.”

“Let’s go in,” he said, touching my elbow and waking up my whole arm in the process. “I made snacks.”

I followed him up the steps, feeling jittery, and walked through the front door. The subtle scent of peppermint filled my nose immediately, as if I’d walked into a cloud of cologne inspired by Merrick’s essence.

The house was very lived in. Not messy, but there was plenty of stuff around to show that two middle schoolers lived there, plus one teenage boy and an overworked Mom/Aunt. But everything had its place. There were cubbies by the door, and shelves on the walls, and storage boxes that doubled as furniture to help contain everything neatly.

There was music playing softly somewhere, and I wondered if Merrick had it on in his bedroom. My skin prickled. His bedroom. I was so close to it now.

“I made popcorn,” he said, scooting around the kitchen counter and retrieving a bowl from beside the stove. “I managed not to burn most of it. And strawberry milkshakes.” He reached into the freezer and pulled out two frosty mugs filled to overflowing with pink shake. Merrick’s buzzy energy and his thoughtful preparations made me blush. Like he’d paid me a compliment.

I set his backpack on a cubby and dug into my own bag for my snack contributions.

“Granny Smith’s and Oreos,” I said.

“Best night ever,” he beamed.

It warmed me all over. To see him so happy. I loved that he could be happy at home.

“Your aunt works a lot, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah, she has two jobs. She tries not to pick up extra shifts, but sometimes the money is just too good, so she can’t say no.” He dragged his finger up the side of a milkshake glass, collecting a dribble of pink liquid and bringing it to his mouth.

“Where’s your uncle?” I blurted out. I realized it was a loaded question after I asked it.

“They’re divorced. He pays child support, but it’s not enough now that I’m here, too.”

I nodded weakly. Every time I learned something new about Merrick, it opened up more questions. But I didn’t want him to feel like I was grilling him for information, so I tried to remain satisfied knowing everything would eventually come out. As long as we stayed friends.

The image of Drake’s drawing popped into my head and my palms got sweaty. I was so glad Merrick hadn’t seen that, but I also hadn’t seen the notes Drake had been giving him all week. I wondered if Danielle had talked to Drake yet. And if it would make any difference.

“Hey. I’m sorry you had such a crappy week at school,” I said.

“Annie,” he said, “I really don’t want to talk about that stuff tonight.” He slid an increasingly melty milkshake across the counter to me. “I just want to have fun with you. I want to feel good. Can we do that?”

I met his eyes and saw how nice they looked against the color of his new shirt. His hairline was damp, hinting that he’d showered recently. My cheeks flushed. He brought his milkshake to his lips and tipped it back, keeping his smiling eyes on me the whole time. When he pulled the glass away there was a thick, pink mustache left behind. He slowly cleared it with his tongue.

“Yes,” I said.

“Awesome. Come on, I’ll show you my room.”

A tiny fuse of anticipation ignited in my gut as we made our way down the narrow hallway to Merrick’s bedroom.

“Where are your cousins? I thought they’d be with you tonight.”

“They’re at my uncle’s this weekend,” he said. “It’s just us.”

The fuse reached its destination and my stomach exploded with butterflies.

Just us.

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

Dive in anytime or join the journey from page one.

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»Trigger statement«

Chapter Eight

I needed to stay close to Merrick after what happened in biology. I didn’t want him to be alone in case someone hassled him or made him feel bad.

By Wednesday, I had memorized his schedule so I could walk with him to all his classes and to lunch, which we spent together. He didn’t seem to mind my increased involvement in his day-to-day activities. I assumed that meant it wasn’t crossing into “weird” territory.

He tried to hide his enthusiasm about the granny smith apples I brought him every day. But he couldn’t. I loved watching him eat apples. It made my heart feel good to see him so satisfied. He still refused to let me buy him lunch from the cafeteria, threatening to take me out to dinner if I did, but I offered every day anyway.

Danielle must have escaped being assaulted on her first date with Drake, because they had officially become a couple over the weekend. And you could never just be a couple in high school. You had to let the entire world know about it by tongue kissing in the hallway every chance you got. It was horrifying.

I still wasn’t speaking to Danielle. And even if I wanted to talk to her about our fight or even apologize, I didn’t see how that would be possible without first finding a crowbar to pry her away from Drake.

Drake.

God, I hated him.

He made a point of stopping by Merrick’s desk in homeroom every day to say something awful. About his clothes. Or where he lived. Sometimes he would drop a note on Merrick’s desk and just walk away. Merrick never let me read the notes, but I knew there was nothing but cruelty in them.

If Danielle and I had still been friends, I might have asked her to talk to Drake about laying off. But we weren’t friends. And we couldn’t be. Not if she was the kind of person who could date someone like Drake.

On Friday, Merrick and I forgot about the clothing exchange complicating our lunch exit. We considered the large senior football player parked in front of the door. He had his feet up on the table and looked like he was about to nod off. We decided he seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t give a crap if we snuck out the side door on his watch.

“Oh, hang on,” Merrick said. “I wanted to look for a few things for my cousins.” He stopped at a rack of brightly colored tops and started sifting through them. “Maybe I can find an ‘I’m with stupid’ t-shirt for one of them and a ‘stupid’ t-shirt for the other.”

“That’s mean, Merry,” I teased him.

“Yeah, Merry, that’s mean.” Drake’s voice stole my breath, and my body froze. I wanted to close the gap between me and Merrick. I’d left too much space between us, and Drake and Travis were already filling it with their awfulness.

Merrick stopped searching the rack and took two steps toward me. Travis blocked his way. “Where to, Frankenstein?”

Merrick didn’t respond, but I could see his jaw clench as he swallowed hard over whatever insult he wanted to hurl into Travis’s face. He tried to go the other way, around Drake.

Drake put his arms out, grinning. “Hey man, don’t let us stop you from shopping,” he said. “It’s springtime. T-shirt weather. Oh wait. You don’t wear t-shirts, do you? Why is that, Merry?”

“Hey! Hair gel.” The sleepy senior football player was suddenly not sleepy anymore. “If you and your XL boyfriend aren’t shopping, why don’t you take off?”

Drake’s face turned red. He stepped alongside Merrick, pretending to flip through the clothes on the rack. I saw my opening and hurried to Merrick’s side. “Come on, let’s go have lunch,” I said, taking hold of his sleeve and tugging gently.

“Lunch?” Drake smiled at me. It made me want to gag. “You mean you haven’t lost your appetite? He must not have shown you the worst of it.” His eyes went to Merrick. “Really, Iverson?”

I grabbed Merrick’s hand to steady him. I tried to get him to move, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Guess that means you two aren’t bumping uglies like everyone’s saying.” Drake leaned in and turned his eyes to me. “Unless you count kissing Annie as bumping ug-”

Merrick yanked his hand from mine and took a swing at Drake, missing his smug face by an inch. Drake ducked behind Travis whose fist flew in fast. A massive arm hooked me around my waist, pulling me off my feet and setting me back down a safe distance from the scuffle.

The football player had left his post and was now holding Travis by the throat and Drake by the collar. Merrick stood behind him, bleeding from his nose and breathing heavily.

“Listen, pretty boy,” the guy growled into Drake’s terrified face. “You either disappear, or I’ll make you disappear.”

Drake squirmed, his shoes barely touching the floor. Travis swatted at the arm attached to the hand still gripping his neck, choking out expletives and attempting to spit at his captor, who wasn’t the slightest bit rattled.

“Apologize to my friends. And mean it. Or you’re not going to look so pretty walking out of here.” He finally put Drake down and released Travis. Then he took a step back, next to Merrick. And waited.

“Sorry,” Drake grunted under his breath. Then he looked at Merrick with an intensity that turned my stomach. “Sorry, Annie,” he said, turning his eyes to me, just long enough for me to see a promise in them that this wasn’t finished.

“What about you, Tiny?” My football hero turned the spotlight on Travis.

“Yeah. Sorry. Whatever,” he said, his voice scratchy from being throttled.

“Good. Now, fuck off.” The football guy took one step toward them, in case they didn’t get the message. They turned and hurried off the stage.

With their stink finally cleared, I turned to Merrick. His nose had bled onto his shirt, and he was hyperventilating. Our new friend had put his hand on Merrick’s shoulder and was talking to him. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, only that his tone was softer that it had been with Drake and Travis. He was being kind.

He led Merrick around the table and the two of them walked outside. I blinked myself back into the room and started shaking. I tried not to think about what might have happened if that guy hadn’t been there to break things up. Drake was a wimp, but Travis could have really hurt Merrick if he wanted to. And it looked like he really wanted to.

I hurried to the rack of flannel shirts and raked through them until I found the dark teal plaid one I’d seen the week before. I heard the side door open and close, and the senior football player took his seat behind the table.

“How much is this?” I asked, reaching into my pocket for the ten dollars my dad always made me carry. Just in case.

“You’re not paying for that,” he said flatly.

“I have money,” I said. “I just want to give him a clean shirt. How much?”

“I said, you’re not paying.” He looked me in the eye. “Take it. Take as many as you want for that guy. He’s earned it.”

“How do you know Merrick?” I asked.

“I knew his brother, Billy. We went to school together until he… dropped out.” He lowered his eyes and repositioned the cash box on the table for no reason.

I was ashamed. I’d had no idea Merrick had an older brother. He’d named our frog after him. What happened to him?

“I’m Brad,” he said.

“Annie.”

“Keep an eye on him, Annie,” he said gravely. “He doesn’t look so steady.”

I nodded. I hugged the flannel shirt to my chest and made my way outside. Merrick was sitting on the ground. I sat next to him and handed him the shirt.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he said.

“I didn’t. That huge football player made me take it.”

He gave me a half smile. “Brad’s a good guy,” he said.

I put my hand on his arm. “So are you.”

“Then why won’t they leave me alone?”

My chest ached and I clenched my fist at my side. “I don’t know, Merr. They’re assholes.”

“This time of year is already hard for me,” he said. “Because… it’s when my mom died. And stuff like this just makes it so much harder. It’s like they can sense I’m ready to break and they just… come at me. Like they want me to break. Why? Why would they do that? I’ve never done anything to them.” He looked at me, his eyes desperate for an answer I didn’t have.

“Merrick, I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why. God, I hate them so much.”

“I want to go home, Annie.” His voice was small. Distant. “I can’t be here right now.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll take you to the office. We’ll call your aunt.”

“No. She’ll worry. I’m just going to go.” He stood up and brushed the gravel off his jeans.

“I’ll go with you,” I said, panic seeping into my chest. “I’ll get our bags and walk you home.”

“No,” he said. “You’ll get in trouble for skipping. And… I kind of want to be by myself.”

My heart was racing and I was close to tears. I didn’t want him to be by himself. I needed to be with him to make sure he was safe.

“I’ll be okay, Annie. Really. This is just about avoiding Drake and Travis this afternoon. I promise. I’m okay.”

I clutched at the sleeve of his shirt and nodded. “Can I still come over your house after school?” I asked selfishly. We had made plans to hang out that night. It was the first time we’d be hanging out not at school. I was looking forward to it so much.

“Yes. Please come over.” He nudged my arm so I would look up at him. He was smiling. “I really want you to come over. Do you think you can get a ride from your parents?”

“I’ll ask my dad to drive me. I can be there at four. Is that okay?”

“That’s great,” he said. He hadn’t stopped smiling and it felt like sunshine on my skin. “Will you grab my algebra book from my locker this afternoon and bring it with you?”

“Sure,” I said, still clinging to his shirt. We’d never hugged. But I was desperate to put my arms around him in that moment. I just didn’t know how to tell him that without it sounding weird. So, the moment passed.

“I’m gonna go,” he said. “Thanks for the shirt. I’ll see you in a few hours. Okay?”

I nodded and reluctantly released his sleeve. He started walking and I kept my eyes on him until I was certain he was out of sight of anyone else. Anyone that might try to follow him. I picked up his backpack from the stage and thanked Brad for helping us out. Then I headed to biology alone.

My stomach was in knots for the rest of the day. I tried to imagine Merrick at home. Napping, watching TV, or reading. Something safe. Thankfully, Drake and Travis kept their mouths shut and stayed out of my way until school ended. Before I headed out to catch the bus, I stopped at Merrick’s locker to grab his algebra book for him.

When I saw what was taped to the inside of the door, I had to stop myself from screaming. It was a drawing of Frankenstein holding a knife over his wrist with a speech bubble that said, “Hurts so good.”

My stomach churned and my teeth gritted so hard I thought they would crack. I was ready to punch the next person who crossed my path. I grabbed the picture and crumpled it, but I didn’t throw it away.

I got on the bus and spotted Danielle sitting alone three seats from the back. I stormed up the aisle and took a seat next to her, stuffing the crumpled up paper into her hand.

“What is this?” she asked, unnerved by my angered demeanor.

“Look at it,” I said impatiently.

She uncrumpled the paper slowly and examined it.

“Do you know who it’s supposed to be?” I snapped.

“I think so,” she said meekly.

“Do you think it’s funny?” I glared at her.

“No.”

“Do you know who drew this and put it in Merrick’s locker?”

She paused. Folded the drawing in half and handed it to me. “Yes,” she said.

I leaned into her, making her cower. “This is messed up, Danielle. Not Merrick. This. Is so… fucking messed up! Do you get that now?!”

There were tears in her eyes, but she wouldn’t look at me.

“I’m scared for him, Danielle,” I cried. “This can’t keep happening. I need you to talk to Drake. Make him stop doing this. Please,” I begged. “Just make him stop. For me.”

I stood up and stumbled to the front of the bus. My hands were shaking, and I was crying. I was so scared for Merrick I couldn’t breathe. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. I couldn’t show up at home looking so upset and expect my dad to drop everything and drive me to Merrick’s without some useless heart-to-heart slowing us down.

I got off the bus and started walking home. Behind me, Danielle’s voice called out shakily from the bus window, “I’ll talk to him.”

I kept walking. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t know if I could believe her.

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

Dive in anytime or join the journey from page one.

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»Trigger statement«

Chapter Seven

“Okay, people. Take two minutes to get acquainted with your specimen and then prepare it for dissection according to the instructions laid out in Chapter One. Go.”

“Get acquainted?”

Merrick pinched the dead frog’s hand in his fingers and shook it gently. “There. Acquainted,” he said. “Your turn.”

“That’s dumb,” I giggled. “We should give him a name though.”

“And that’s not dumb?” he teased.

“No. We need to call him something other than specimen. He had a life once, right? Like a frog family and frog friends. So, he should have a name.”

“Are you sure it’s a ‘he’?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Did he have a manly handshake?”

“Very.”

I smiled. “Okay then. You give him a name and I’ll get him set up.”

I set the frog on the dissection board, belly up, and pressed a pin into each of his feet. It was kind of gross, but I could handle it. Honestly, the worst part was the smell of whatever stuff he’d been soaking in to keep him from decomposing. That stuff was nasty.

“Billy,” Merrick said suddenly. He stared blankly at the dead frog pinned to the board.

“Okay. Billy,” I said.

“All right, folks,” Mr. Harrison said, bringing us back, “Time to make your first incision. Please refer to the diagram on page six and cut away.”

Merrick took a sharp breath in, and I looked up. His eyes were closed and there was no color in his face.

“Hey,” I said. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, but I wasn’t convinced.

“You don’t have to cut anything,” I assured him. “I’ve got it.”

He nodded again and opened his eyes to look at Billy. I brought the scalpel to the center of his chin and pressed down. It made a tiny crunching sound which made me cringe, but I kept going, sawing up and down slowly in a straight line down the center of his belly.

“Annie.” Merrick gripped my arm gently. “I’m gonna be sick.”

I shot out of my seat to clear a path. He’d gone completely green, and I worried he wouldn’t make it to the bathroom before he threw up. I just hoped he would make it out the door. “Go,” I whispered.

He covered his mouth and stumbled out from behind our table. Drake saw him coming and threw his elbow out to slow him down. I wanted to scream. I marched to the front of the room and asked Mr. Harrison if I could go with Merrick to make sure he was okay. He waved me off and I hurried out the door, ignoring Drake’s high-pitched laughter as I went.

The hallway was empty. I listened for footsteps, but there weren’t any. I approached the bathroom door and put my ear up to it. I grimaced. It sounded awful. I felt awful. For him.

I waited until I heard a toilet flush and then pushed the door open a few inches.

“You okay?”

“Nope,” he said, out of breath. “I’m not.”

“Do you want me to walk you to the nurse?” I asked, feeling a little uncomfortable about having my mouth so close to the boy’s room door.

He was quiet for a minute, and I wondered if he was going to throw up again.

“Can you come in here?”

My stomach flipped anxiously.

“In the boy’s room?” I asked. Just in case he’d forgotten where he was.

“It’s a men’s room, Annie.”

I snorted.

“And it’s only a men’s room until you come in. Then it will just be a room with toilets.”

“Are you alone?” I asked. I knew he was. I just wanted to be sure.

“Annie. Just come in. I think I already won for most embarrassed person in this situation.”

He was right. I pushed the door open and ventured inside.

Boys are disgusting. That’s all I’m going to say.

I tiptoed over the sticky (with what I didn’t want to know) tile floor and peeked my head in the first stall. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the open door. He looked up sheepishly. At least he had some color back in his cheeks.

“Oh hey,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

I smiled, but I must have looked worried.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I knew this dissection stuff wasn’t going to work for me.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’m sure you’re not the first kid to puke in Mr. Harrison’s class. I heard they dissect pigs and cats in his Anatomy classes.”

Merrick put his hand over his mouth and shot me a warning glance.

“Crap, sorry,” I said.

“It’s not even the science part. I like biology. I think it’s really cool. It’s just… it’s the actual… cutting part I can’t handle.” He looked down at the floor, ashamed.

“But I can do that part,” I said. “I won’t make you do any cutting.”

He winced and brought his knees into his chest.

“What’s going on?” I said, a pang of worry creeping into my chest. I crouched down next to him, not willing to put any part of my body on the floor.

“Um…” his hands were shaking. “Can we go outside maybe? I just need some air, I think.”

“Sure. I’m kind of done with the ‘men’s’ room,” I said.

At least I got him to smile. “Right. The last thing you need is for someone to walk in here and see us together in a bathroom stall. That would be the end of the world for you.”

“I don’t care what people think,” I said, offering him a hand up off the floor. His rise sent a waft of peppermint over to me. I was grateful for the aroma upgrade, however fleeting.

“Yes, you do, Annie,” he said. “And it’s okay. We’re kidding ourselves when we say we don’t care about that stuff. Me included.”

“Well, I don’t want to care, then,” I said defiantly.

“I don’t want to either,” he said.

I realized I was still holding his hand as we approached the door. I pulled mine away abruptly. “Sorry,” I said, flustered.

“I’m not,” he smiled. My stomach lilted as he held the door open for me, and I tried not to meet his eyes while I crossed the sticky threshold into the hallway.

We checked in at the nurse’s office, just so someone would know we weren’t skipping school when we brazenly walked out the front door together. It was tempting though. Once we were out in the sun. Just the two of us. Would it have been so bad if we kept walking?

“I’ll talk to Mr. Harrison,” Merrick said. “Maybe I can do some extra credit to make up for skipping dissection. I feel like a baby, but I don’t want to spend the next two weeks on the floor of the bathroom.”

“Me neither,” I said.

He laughed. But then he put his hands over his face, and he wasn’t laughing anymore. He was crying.

“Woah, what’s up?” I was completely helpless. I’d never seen a boy cry before. Not a teenage one anyway. If Danielle ever cried around me, I knew what to do. There were just things you did when your girlfriend was crying. But this felt different. And I wasn’t sure why. “Do you want me to get someone?” I didn’t know who I would get. I was certain Merrick didn’t want to be crying in front of most people. But here he was, crying in front of me.

“I was going to wait,” he sobbed, “for you to ask about it. About why everyone thinks I’m messed up. Because I am. Or I was. And it’s been hard not telling you. It feels like lying.”

“Okay,” I said, my heart skipping erratically. “Do you want to tell me about it now?” I didn’t think I was ready to hear about it. Whatever it was. But I really wanted him to stop crying.

He sniffled and wiped his face with his hands. Then he undid the wrist button on his right sleeve and rolled it up to the elbow.

I gasped and my own hands shot out and took his arm and held it in front of me. His right inner forearm was covered in scars. They were different sizes. Some long, some short. But they were all, with one exception, perfectly straight lines. Most of them were thin, white and flat, but a few were thicker. Raised above the surface of his healthy skin. Or what was left of it.

“Merrick, how did this happen?” My heart was pounding. I couldn’t look away. Even though it scared me. I tried to keep my voice from wavering as I asked him, “who did this?”

He laughed and it shocked me.

“I did,” he said. He wasn’t smiling. The laughter must have been a defensive reaction to my lack of understanding about what I was seeing.

“Why?” I was getting angry. At him. At whatever made him do this to himself.

“Because I’m messed up.” His voice caught and he took a breath to head off his emotion.

“That’s not a reason,” I demanded.

“Sorry. That’s all I got.”

“But, how?” I stammered. “How could you…?”

He pointed to a row of thin white scars just below his elbow. “I did these with a paper clip,” he said. “And this was scissors.” His finger moved over an x of slightly pinker scars about halfway down his arm. “And this…” He ran his thumb over the biggest scar. It curved in a c shape inches from his wrist. “Was broken glass.”

My stomach lurched and I pushed his hand away from the scar, protectively. I ran my own finger over the curved, pink skin. I bit down on my tongue and tasted blood.

“That’s the one that got me sent away,” he said. His voice was too calm. I wished he was crying again. I wanted to cry. “It’s why I wasn’t here at the end of eighth grade. Remember?”

I didn’t remember. And that made me sick. I hadn’t even noticed that Merrick wasn’t in school at the end of last year. And I doubted anyone else had either.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, still running my fingers over the damaged skin of his arm.

“Not anymore.” He gently pulled his arm from me and rolled his sleeve back down.

“Merrick?” I was staring at him. Trying to get a read on where his head was.

“I didn’t show you to make you worry, Annie. I’m okay now. I don’t do it anymore.”

“But why would you ever do it?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I wish I’d never done it. Because you’re afraid of me now.” His hand shook as he tried to fasten the button on his sleeve. I reached over and fastened it for him. Then I held onto his hand for what felt like a long time. I ran my thumb over the baby fine hair on his knuckles and pulled on a loose thread at the edge of his worn flannel shirt.

“Do you want to run now?” he asked quietly.

“Do you mean skip school?” I looked up, hopeful, and met his eyes. They smiled.

“Not what I meant,” he said. “That would be awesome. But we probably shouldn’t do that together. What would everyone think?”

“I don’t care what-”

“Everyone thinks. Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I care what you think, Annie. I care what you think of me.”

“Okay. Fine,” I said.

“Is it?”

“Sure, what do I care if you care what I think?”

He laughed and pulled his hand from mine. I’d forgotten I was holding it.

“Okay then. Do you think you might ever want to hang out sometime? Like, not in school?” His hands were fidgeting in his lap. I was still trying to shake the image of his scars out of my head. I looked at the side of his face instead. He had a nice profile. Everything lined up in a very pleasing way. And his eyelashes were dark and long. They were pretty.

A breeze blew across the courtyard, and I was hit with Merrick’s subtle but seemingly constant peppermint scent. It was really starting to grow on me.

“Sure,” I said. “We could do that sometime.”

He turned his head away quickly, but not before I spied the smile he was trying to hide. He looked back at me, only half recovered from the giddiness he was enjoying.

“Cool,” he said. “Awesome.”

Then we sat in silence, and I didn’t want to get up. I just wanted to sit there in the sun and enjoy the peppermint scented breeze and not have to deal with anybody at school other than Merrick for the rest of the day. Or the rest of the year.

“Guess we should head back in and start begging Mr. Harrison not to fail us,” he said.

“He won’t fail us. We’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ll be the surgeon and you’ll be my research assistant. We’re going to ace frog dissection.”

“Hell yeah,” he laughed.

I stood up and offered him my hand, even though it wasn’t the kind of wall you needed help getting up from. He took it and squeezed it a little bit before letting go. It made my whole arm feel warm. He held the door open for me and we walked side by side down the empty hallway, back to biology.

Merrick stopped walking a few feet from Mr. Harrison’s door.

“Hey Annie,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” he said. “For not running.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded. I tried to smile, but it felt forced. Maybe because I was really scared of what Merrick had shown me about himself. And I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to forget about it. Because he probably wanted me to forget about it. Just like I wanted him to forget about my bad skin and my impulse to say hurtful things at the drop of a hat.

But his thing was different. It was darker and more dangerous. It didn’t make me scared of him. But it did make me scared for him. And I didn’t think that fear would ever really go away.

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

Dive in anytime or join the journey from page one.

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Chapter Six

“Hello?”

“Hi, is Merrick there?”

“Who’s this?”

“Annie.”

“Annie who?”

“Annie Archer.”

There was silence followed by a duo of girlish giggles on the other end of the phone.

“Are you Merry’s girlfriend?”

“No,” I said, trying to stay patient. It had been hard for me to work up the courage to call him after hours of crying over my skin and then crying over how awful I’d been to Danielle on the bus. “I’m his lab partner.”

“What’s a lab partner?”

“Hey, get out of here you guys.” Merrick had relinquished the phone. “Grow up already.”

“We’re nine.”

He sighed. “Hi,” he said into the phone. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay. Am I interrupting something?”

“Just the hell that is my life. Hang on a minute so I can get to my room.”

My imagination danced to the suggestion of Merrick’s bedroom. I didn’t know what his house looked like or where or how he was moving in it during the silence. It was all very mysterious. I fluffed my pillows in preparation for his return. Which felt like a weird thing to do.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m alone now. Finally. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said, suddenly nervous about starting a conversation. “I was just… wondering why you weren’t in school today.”

“I had to stay home with my cousins,” he said bitterly. “They were supposedly sick, but as soon as my Aunt Laura left for work, they recovered. I’m trying to decide if I should rat them out when she gets home.”

The clock on my bed table read 8:30 pm. Had he really been home all that time taking care of his cousins?

“That’s a long day for you,” I said.

“Endless,” he sighed. “How was school?”

I didn’t want to complain. My day had been awful, but at least I hadn’t been expected to stay home and watch two nine-year-olds for twelve hours.

“Just general suck,” I said.

He chuckled. “Sorry I missed it.”

There was an awkward pause during which I realized I didn’t have anything else to say. But I really didn’t want to hang up the phone.

“Still there?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry. I don’t talk on the phone that much. Except with Danielle.” My stomach clenched at the mention of her name. “We had a pretty bad fight on the bus today.”

“Like you punched each other?”

I laughed. “No. Just mean words. Mostly from me.”

“Oh.”

“We were supposed to have a sleepover tonight, but she made plans with Drake instead.”

“Ugh. I think that’s worth a few mean words.”

I liked that he was taking my side. Even though I’d been terrible.

“These were really mean,” I said. “I feel like a jerk.”

“I don’t think you’re a jerk. If that matters at all.”

“Thanks,” I said, grateful he wasn’t in the room to see me blush. “It matters.”

Another awkward pause.

“Do you have any plans for the weekend?” I asked to keep things rolling.

“Well, I was going to have a sleepover with Drake tonight, but he made plans with Danielle instead.”

“Shut up,” I laughed.

“We exchanged mean words.”

“I’d rather you punched him.”

“It’s crossed my mind,” he said. “But I try not to punch people. Mostly because I don’t want to get punched back. I think that would generally suck.”

God, he was funny. And he was easy to talk to. Why did everyone think he was creepy?

“I’m glad you’re okay,” I said. “I was worried about you today.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” he said.

My chest fluttered a warning. There was that line again.

“Is this weird?” I blurted out.

“Is what weird?”

“This. Us talking on the phone.”

“Uh… it doesn’t feel weird? Should it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never had a boy as a friend before, and sometimes, I think… I don’t know. I just want to be clear about everything.”

“Um…”

“Forget it,” I said.

Why was I sabotaging this? I wanted to talk to him on the phone. So why was I making it weird? It didn’t have to be weird!

“I’ve never had a girl as a friend either,” he said. “So far, I haven’t felt weird. But if you feel weird, you should definitely tell me so I can stop making you feel weird. Because I’d rather it not be weird. Is that weird?”

“Yes,” I smiled to myself. “But I don’t care.”

“I’m glad that’s cleared up.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, so hurry up and ask me a question about biology before we both realize how weird we’re being right now.”

“Right. Biology…. OH my god!” I gasped. “I think Brittany Parsons is trying to get with Chris Green.”

He burst out laughing and the sound of it made my cheeks warm.

“What does that have to do with biology?” He was still laughing. Hard. I’d never made anyone laugh that hard before. I didn’t think I was all that funny.

“It happened in biology,” I said. “She, like, nibbled his earlobe or something. I thought he was going pass out.”

Still laughing. “Oh my god! That just made my day so awesome. I’m really excited about biology on Monday now.”

I was too.

“Can we have lunch outside again sometime?” he asked, almost fully recovered.

“Yeah. But someone spotted us yesterday. If that matters to you.”

“It doesn’t,” he said.

I was glad he didn’t ask if it mattered to me. I still wasn’t sure if it did or not.

“How was your pudding?” I asked.

“I let my cousins eat it.”

I was disappointed. I’d wanted him to eat it.

“Maybe next time you’ll let me buy you lunch,” I said.

“Only if I can buy you dinner,” he replied.

“Forget it,” I said, happy he couldn’t see my face. Because I was smiling.

“Forgotten,” he said. “Phew. Almost got weird there for a second.”

It was getting weird, and I decided I should bail out before it got any weirder.

“I should probably go,” I said.

“Okay, weirdo.”

I giggled. “See you Monday.”

“What’s today?”

“Friday.”

“Ugh. Okay. Monday it is,” he sighed. “Bye, Annie.”

“Bye, Merry.”

His laughter was the last thing I heard before the click of the receiver on his end.

I was a little out of breath and my cheeks hurt. From smiling? I didn’t know. It had been so long since I’d been in a good mood, I’d kind of forgotten how it felt. But I liked it.

I went downstairs to get myself some Oreos and chocolate milk. My parents were snuggled up on the couch watching TV.

“Hi, Lovey,” Mom said. “Who was that making you laugh up there?”

“No one,” I blushed. I didn’t know I’d been laughing that loudly. “Just my biology lab partner.”

“Wow. Biology’s a lot more fun than I remember,” my dad teased.

“Yeah,” I said, feeling surprisingly okay about the teasing. “Goodnight, weirdos.”

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

Dive in anytime or join the journey from page one.

Subscribe now

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»Trigger statement«

Chapter Five

Merrick was absent from school the next day. I was worried. I would have just thought he was sick, but Drake said something at lunch that really freaked me out.

“You guys think we’ve seen the last of Iverson? Or is he going to Frankenstein us again?”

Danielle giggled and I glared at her. She felt it and turned her eyes away.

“He must have gone through with it,” Travis said through a mouthful of sloppy joe. “He wouldn’t have missed the big dumpster dive today.”

Drake cackled and my stomach turned over. I wanted to stand up for Merrick. To tell them they were being elitist jerks. But I was afraid. I was afraid of those morons and what their words could do to me.

The only thing that made me feel better was knowing I could call Merrick when I got home from school to check on him. He’d left me a note in my locker after lunch the day before with his phone number on it, saying I could call him over the weekend if I had questions about his biology notes. He wouldn’t have done that if he was planning to… disappear.

We still had ten minutes left of lunch, but I couldn’t stand sitting with them anymore.

“Byee Annieee,” Drake mocked, sending Travis into a fit of snorting laughter.

I walked to the edge of the stage and ventured up the stairs and behind the curtain where the Clothing Exchange was underway. There were only a few kids milling through the racks. They all eyed me, quizzically, probably wondering why someone who had money for new clothes would be there, picking through other people’s toss outs. Two senior girls manning a cash box waved and smiled at me. I was disappointed to see their cash out table was stationed in front of the door that led to my quiet place outside. I abandoned my plan to spend the last ten minutes of lunch in solitude and instead started looking through the racks of clothes that had been donated.

It was obvious the senior class hadn’t washed anything. There was a lingering smell of stale perfume and deodorant residue on everything. Some of the clothes were kind of beat up, but some things looked barely worn. A few items still had tags on them. I realized I wasn’t shopping for myself when I wandered into a rack of flannel shirts. Merrick wore a lot of flannel shirts. Or did he? I really didn’t know. I considered one shirt I thought would look good on him. It was a dark teal color with a burgundy plaid pattern. I thought it would look nice with his eyes. And his tan skin.

I put it back on the rack suddenly and left the stage in a hurry. Buying Merrick clothes would be weird. It would either look like another handout or like a girlfriend thing. And that’s not what I was trying to do.

I wished there was a rule book for friendships with guys, so I could stop getting weird about whether something I wanted to do was crossing some invisible line of appropriateness. I considered asking Danielle about it at our sleepover that night, but I didn’t know how I would hide the fact that I was asking about me and Merrick. Then I’d have to sit through a condescending lecture about how creepy he allegedly was.

I could barely stay awake in biology, which was fine, because had I been fully conscious, I would have been forced to watch Drake put his hands all over Danielle to make her squeal while Travis leaned into Penelope so he could look down her shirt. God, they were disgusting.

I did have to stifle a laugh when I caught Brittany Parsons whispering something into Chris Green’s ear. Either her lips made contact with his earlobe or she said something very suggestive, or both, because Chris turned beet red in a matter of seconds. Brittany leaned back and smacked her gum at me, proudly. It was a hilarious moment that I was eager to share with Merrick when I called him over the weekend.

I doubled checked my backpack to make sure Merrick’s note was still there before I got on the bus at the end of the day.

“Who’s that from?” Danielle asked over my shoulder.

I stuffed the note back in my bag and started up the bus steps. “No one,” I said. “It’s a list. A homework list.”

I didn’t know what a homework list was, but Danielle was willing to accept that such a thing existed. “What time did you want to come over tonight?” I asked as she sat down next to me.

“What’s tonight?” she asked. Her hand went to her mouth, and she looked convincingly guilty. “Oh my god, Annie. I completely forgot about our sleepover tonight.”

I was annoyed, since she was the one who suggested it and made sure I didn’t have any other plans for the night. Not that I would have. But still.

“Okay. Well, I just reminded you,” I said. “Do you want to come for dinner or after?”

Her eyes widened with pity. “I’m really sorry, Annie. I made plans.”

“Yeah. I know,” I said. “With me.” I wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily.

“No, I mean, I have a date tonight.” I didn’t need to hear the rest. “With Drake.”

My throat burned and I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. If she wanted a cat fight, she was going to get one.

“I can’t believe how stupid you’re being right now,” I said.

“I’m being stupid? You’re the one hanging out with Merrick Iverson. I told you he was bad news and you’re like rubbing the whole thing in my face.”

“What whole thing!?” I shouted at her.

“Oh, come on, Annie. You guys are obviously screwing around with each other.”

“WHAT?! We are not!”

“Penelope saw you guys outside at lunch together, and Travis saw him put a note in your locker.”

“So your shithead friends are stalking me now!? What do you care if I’m friends with Merrick. I’m not getting in the way of you hanging out with the biggest asshole on the planet. You’re telling me you like getting felt up in front of Mr. Harrison.”

“Shut up, Annie. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Neither do you! I’m not screwing around with Merrick. If people are saying that, you should be telling them it’s not true. You’re supposed to be my friend!”

“I am your friend!” she cried.

“Not anymore,” I said.

My head had cleared enough to see my neighborhood come into view out the window. I stood up and pushed past Danielle’s knees and into the aisle.

“Have a great time with Drake,” I said. Then more quietly, so only she could hear me, “I hope you don’t get date raped tonight. Unless of course… you want to.”

Her face twisted up and her eyes filled with tears.

I turned my head away and bit down on my tongue.

I would not apologize.

She deserved it.

And I was done with her.

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

Dive in anytime or join the journey from page one.

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Chapter Four

“Danielle told me you two had a little cat fight on the bus yesterday.”

I kept my eyes on my desk.

Second bell had already rung. Merrick was either absent or really late to school.

“Sorry I missed it.” Drake leaned forward until I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. I shuddered. He reeked of cheap cologne and hair gel. I wanted Ms. Davis to tell him to find his seat, but she was at the board, writing a message in the upper corner. I don’t know why she had to write it down. We’d been hearing about it over the morning announcements since January.

THE CLOTHING EXCHANGE.

OPEN TO THE PUBLIC MONDAY THROUGH THURSDAY 4-6PM.

SHOPPING HOURS FOR STUDENTS ARE FRIDAYS DURING LUNCH.

ALL ARE WELCOME TO DONATE AND SHOP.

The Clothing Exchange was a senior class project. They were supposed to create a program to help the local community. It was a good idea. I just wished they’d chosen a location other than our school for the store. It had become a source of fuel for rich, entitled jerks to harass anyone who took advantage of it.

“Hey, Iverson. Check it out,” Drake said. “Looks like you’ll be able to get that new wardrobe after all. And you won’t have to shop in the dumpster this time.”

I bit down on my tongue and silently begged Ms. Davis to give Drake a piece of her mind, but she was distracted taking attendance. Merrick shuffled over and handed her his tardy slip. He looked out of sorts. His hair rumpled and his eyes puffy. He gave me a half smile before his face dropped at the sight of Drake behind me.

“You’re in my seat,” he said flatly.

“Oh, am I? Maybe we should ask Annie which one of us she’d rather sit down wind of.”

“You smell like melted deodorant,” I spat.

Drake put his mouth close to my ear. “What was that, crater face?”

Merrick lunged at him. A scuffle, the screech of chair feet on tile, and a high-pitched laugh followed. I turned to find Drake, red-faced, adjusting his collar. And Merrick, leaning on the desk, breathing heavily.

“Easy, Iverson,” Drake said, running a hand through his gelled hair. “Don’t hurt yourself.” He put his hands on Merrick’s desk and leaned toward him until their noses were practically touching. “Unless of course… you want to.”

“Mr. Fletcher, take your seat please,” Ms. Davis finally stepped in, though she didn’t bother looking up from her attendance sheet.

Drake slunk away, grinning like a weasel at Merrick and me. Then he shook his head like he was watching something sad.

I ignored an impulse to flip him off.

Merrick slumped into his seat and finished buttoning his gray flannel shirt with shaking hands.

“Did you miss the bus?” I asked, watching his fingers coax each button through its hole. He’d been biting his nails again.

“I don’t take the bus,” he said quietly. “I walk.”

“Oh, does the bus not go to your house?” I was pretty sure the bus went everywhere in town. Even if it just picked you up at the end of your street.

“It does,” he said, becoming agitated. “I just don’t take it.”

I knew he wasn’t annoyed with me, but he clearly wanted a few minutes to get his head on straight after dealing with Drake first thing in the morning, so I turned back around and let him get his bearings.

“I brought you something today,” he said.

The back of my neck prickled.

“What is it?” I asked, staring at my desk.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said with what sounded like a smile. “It’s not that great. I’ll give it to you at lunch, though. You don’t need anyone giving you crap about passing notes with me in homeroom.”

I felt guilty he was worried about how other people would look at me if I was passing notes with him. But I felt worse that I was worried about that too. I could feel Drake’s eyes on us from across the room.

“Okay, that works,” I said. “I actually have something for you, too.”

He started to speak but was interrupted by the crackle of morning announcements.

Drake couldn’t resist throwing out a jerky comment about dumpster diving (obviously meant for Merrick) when the principal brought up The Clothing Exchange again. Ms. Davis gave him a stern warning about his lack of compassion which he waited to roll his eyes at until she’d turned her back on him.

The bell rang for first period and Merrick whizzed past my desk, creating a gust of air that smelled like toothpaste. “See you at lunch,” he said.

“Yeah. See you,” I said to the back of him as he disappeared through the doorway.

“You two have a hot date behind the dumpster later?” Drake slithered alongside me as I entered the hallway. I had to breathe through my mouth to avoid gagging on his coat of cologne.

“What do you care?”

“I care,” he said, his voice sickeningly sweet and obviously put on. “And so does Danielle. We don’t want to see you get hurt. Iverson has a way of… disappearing when things get tough, Annie. He just can’t deal with it.” He put his arm around my shoulder and I tasted bile in the back of my throat. “And one of these days he’s going to finish what he started last year, and that’ll be it. So, I wouldn’t bother getting too cozy. For your own good.”

“Get your hands off me,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Good idea,” he said, returning to his usual mocking tone. “That mess on your face might be contagious.”

I shoved my elbow into him and barreled ahead, fighting back tears. I was still processing what he’d said. That he’d linked himself to Danielle in some quest to keep me away from Merrick. And what “cat fight’”? We barely even argued on the bus. Obviously, Danielle’s retelling was far more dramatic than the reality. I wouldn’t be surprised if she made herself out to be the victim somehow.

And what was everyone’s problem with Merrick? I didn’t get it. He’d been nothing but nice to me, which is more than I could say for asshole Drake and my so-called best friend Danielle.

Screw them.

I stopped walking and dug into my backpack for a piece of paper and a pencil:

I folded up the note and ran my eyes along the lockers until I found number 373. I slid the note into the vent and hurried to algebra.

My stomach quickly filled with butterflies as I started to regret leaving the note in Merrick’s locker. I worried it might send a weird message. Like I was interested in him because I wanted to have lunch outside alone with him, instead of in the cafeteria.

Why did I want to have lunch alone with him?

I didn’t want to answer that question, because I knew the answer would be that I was shallow and didn’t want people to know I was hanging out with him on purpose. I hated that I cared so much about what people thought of me.

Another swarm of butterflies erupted in my gut as I shuffled past the racks of donated clothes set up on the stage. The curtain was closed, so no one in the cafeteria could see me, but I still felt exposed. Like somehow, I would get picked up on Drake’s jerk radar and he’d follow me outside and find me with Merrick and it would be the end of the world.

The rush of warm, spring air outside settled my stomach and my paranoia instantly. So did the sight of Merrick, waiting in the spot I’d spent a fair number of lunches alone last fall. Danielle and I didn’t have the same lunch period then, so I became desperate to find a place to hide from the world every day. When winter showed up, I was forced back inside to survive the lunchroom drama alone.

It’s possible Merrick was in that lunch period, too. I wouldn’t know. He really didn’t exist in my life until yesterday.

“You got my note,” I said, stating the obvious.

“I did,” he said. “You do this a lot?” He was sitting on one of six flat raised stones, arranged in a half circle in front of the door. I took a seat beside him, leaving one stone between us like a table.

“I used to. When the weather was nice in the fall. It’s been a while, though.”

“Well, thanks for inviting me.” He smiled and turned his face into a slight breeze. It ruffled his lopsided hair and sent a shiver through me. But I wasn’t cold.

I took out my sandwich, carrots and iced tea and set them on the rock between us. “Did you already eat?” I asked, eyeing his backpack on the ground beside him.

“Oh. No. I didn’t have time to pack a lunch this morning,” he said.

My insides felt a pinch. “Did you want me to run inside and buy you something?” I asked. “I have some money on my lunch card.”

“Nah,” he said, tracing a hole in the knee of his jeans. “One missed lunch won’t kill me.”

“Neither will letting me buy you lunch,” I said.

He smiled shyly. “I let you buy me lunch, what’s next? Dinner? Then we’ll be in trouble.”

My cheeks flushed. I was sending messages again. I needed to reroute the conversation back to standard lunch talk.

“Why were you late this morning?” Sometimes I was so nosy I wanted to smack myself.

“I overslept,” he said. “I was up late. I had to get my cousins’ lunches packed this morning and get them on the bus. And I wanted to finish this.”

He opened his backpack and pulled out a stack of paper and handed it to me. It was probably a dozen pages, single sided, full of his slanty, left-handed writing in blue Sharpie.

“What is this?” I asked, too lazy to read it to find out.

“Biology notes. For chapters one through four. I thought I’d get a head start.”

I was impressed and a little embarrassed. The notes looked really thorough. Better than anything I would have done. “We have until Monday to read those chapters,” I said. “You didn’t need to stay up late to do this. And you didn’t need to make me a copy.”

“I know,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure I was doing my share of the work. And now you don’t have to worry about it this weekend. You can just have fun or whatever.”

I thumbed through the pages for a long time, not wanting to make eye contact with him. The only fun I had planned for my weekend was a sleepover with Danielle. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

“Do you always write in Sharpie?” I asked.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Why?”

“It’s comfortable, I guess.” I wasn’t sure what that meant. “I would have typed the notes and printed them for you, but our computer crashed like a month ago and my aunt can’t afford a new one yet.”

My gut twisted with guilt. While I was home crying myself to sleep over my looks last night, Merrick was up making two copies of handwritten notes to get us through a week of biology class. And he prioritized finishing the notes over packing a lunch for himself and getting to school on time.

“Did you say you had something for me?”

His question broke me out of my thought spiral, and I found him grinning at me eagerly. My stomach dropped. Yes, I had something for him. A stupid pudding cup. A gesture I thought was so noble and generous until now. My cheeks burned as I considered lying and saying he’d misheard me or that I’d left it at home by mistake. But then I saw it as a way to get him to eat something. I reached into my lunch bag and offered it to him.

“I can’t have chocolate,” I said. “And my little brother likes butterscotch better.” A little white lie in there. Freddie hated butterscotch pudding. He only ate chocolate and would definitely notice we were one short in the pantry after today.

Merrick stared at the pudding cup for a minute before reaching his hand out to take it. “Thanks,” he said, putting it in his backpack. “I’ll save it for later.”

He looked ashamed and I felt like crap about that. I didn’t want him to think I was giving him handouts. I was just trying to make up for saying that insensitive thing about his mom yesterday. I figured I should just apologize and hope it would restore whatever balance still felt off between us.

“I’m sorry for what I said about your mom,” I said. “I say things I don’t mean sometimes. And I really didn’t mean to say that to you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m reminded about that stuff every day anyway. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

That made me want to beat myself up.

“Just do me a favor,” he said. “If you want to know something about me, just ask.”

“Okay.”

“I know people talk about me. And I don’t care. Or… I don’t want to care.” He ran his fingers through a tuft of tall grass beside him. Then he looked right at me. “It’s important to me that you know what’s true. And what isn’t. So, ask. I won’t lie.”

My brain was suddenly overflowing with questions. But I refused to subject him to interrogation over the casual lunch I orchestrated to keep myself from feeling embarrassed about being seen with him. I reached into my lunch bag and pulled out a granny smith apple.

“Here,” I said. “I hate granny smiths. They’re too tart for me.”

“Not for me,” he said, smiling wide. He took the apple and sunk his teeth in. The skin snapped, and a gush of juice squeezed out of the corner of his mouth. “Holy crap, that’s good,” he mumbled over the mouthful.

My heart skipped and I pushed my sandwich into my mouth to hide my smile.

He wasn’t hiding his.

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

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Chapter Three

Danielle was treating me like a wounded animal on the bus ride home.

“Oh my god, Annie, you poor thing. You should have just partnered with Travis. I feel so bad for you.”

“Travis is an asshole and a moron,” I said.

“Yeah, but he can’t be worse than Merrick. That guy is creep city.”

I had a burning feeling my throat. Danielle was being nasty, and it was getting harder for me not to tell her so. She hadn’t always been like that. But lately she’d gotten really superficial and judgy of people. I hated it.

“You’ve never even talked to him before,” I said, wishing I wasn’t trapped in the window seat beside her. “How can you be creeped out by someone you’ve never spoken to?”

“I don’t need to talk to him to know he’s creepy. I’ve heard enough stories about him to give me nightmares.”

I gritted my teeth. Was she seriously passing judgment on Merrick based on gossip? And whose gossip was she relying on? Drake’s?

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” I said, hoping she’d read into it.

Last year there was a rumor about Danielle that she fooled around with our eighth-grade science teacher, Mr. Chasse. He was young and handsome, and all the girls had a stupid kid crush on him. But Danielle was kind of obsessed with him. I think she even wrote him a note telling him how she felt. And she thinks Merrick is creepy?! She told me nothing happened between them, and I believed her, obviously. Would have been nice if she learned something about how dangerous gossip can be to a person’s reputation. But clearly, that lesson escaped her.

“Listen, if he tries anything creepy with you, let me know. Drake will take care of it.”

I wanted to strangle her. I also wanted to laugh that she thought Drake could handle himself in anything resembling a fight with Merrick. No one in our grade picked on Drake, but plenty of upper classman called him “pretty boy” or “fancy pants” in passing. He wasn’t as tough as he wanted everyone to believe.

“I can take care of myself,” I said stiffly. “Thanks anyway.”

She sighed. I felt her eyes on me and my stomach tightened up.

“Are you still using that skincare stuff your doctor put you on?”

My fists clenched in my lap. “Yes,” I said, trying not to spit.

She sighed again and cocked her head to the side, miming concern. I resisted the urge to cover my face even though every pimple stung under her scrutiny.

“Did he say how long it would take to start working?”

I stood up angrily. “Move,” I growled at her.

“What? Why? You still have two stops.”

“I feel sick,” I lied. “I need to move to the front of the bus.”

She got up and let me pass.

I did feel sick, but not from the bus ride. She was being a shitty friend. And she was making me think about my skin when I’d hardly thought about it all day. Not since homeroom when Drake gave me a hard time. And at lunch when Susan looked at me like I was a leper. After that I did what I always did at school. I avoided mirrors and people and kept my head down. And the only person I talked to after lunch was Merrick. And I don’t think I touched my face once when I was talking to him.

But now, after sitting with Danielle for five minutes I just wanted to claw at my inflamed cheeks until they bled. Why would she bring up the one thing she knows I hate most about myself and can’t do anything about? What kind of friend does that?!

The bus driver scolded me for standing before the bus came to a complete stop at the end of my street, but I was desperate to get away from Danielle and shut myself in my bedroom for the rest of the day.

“I’ll call you,” she called out the open window after me.

I hoped she would so I could hang up on her.

Dad and Freddie were outside in the driveway shooting baskets. Dad usually picked Freddie up from school on his way home from teaching at the community college. He offered to pick me up, too, but I always said no. My dad was great, but he had a real talent for saying embarrassing things to my peers in front of me, so I avoided that whenever possible.

Freddie was in fifth grade and still hadn’t reached the “jerk” phase of boyhood. The one that makes you leer at girls and comment on their breast size and just be, in all other ways, gross. It was also too soon to tell if he’d be cursed with my mother’s hand-me-down skin problems. I secretly hoped he would be. Not because I was mean, but because it might’ve kept the jerk impulses at bay a little longer if he had something to feel self-conscious about. But I was already prepared for Freddie to get a free pass in the acne department. He was basically a mini version of my dad, olive skinned with dark hair and hazel eyes. I was my mother’s daughter. Pale skin, dirty blond hair, and zits that wouldn’t die no matter how many chemical concoctions I subjected them to.

“Hello, my favorite daughter,” Dad grinned. “How was school?”

“It sucked,” I grumbled.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

I scuffed through the garage and into the kitchen, where I stopped for an apple and a glass of water. I really wanted a sleeve of Oreos and chocolate milk, but my mother’s voice crept into my head, reminding me that fat and sugar (not to mention chocolate) were all acne triggers, and I should avoid them. I was tired of avoiding acne triggers. It didn’t make a difference when I did.

I tiptoed past my mom’s office. Partly to avoid disturbing her if she was on the phone, but mostly to make sure she didn’t hear me and come out wanting to talk about my day. My mom worked from home as a travel agent. She liked the job because she could talk to clients on the phone. She never had to meet them face to face. She had a picture on her business card, but it was doctored to make her skin look better. It made me think she was a hypocrite. She always expected me to see the beauty in myself and not put so much importance on my looks.

I climbed the stairs, cursing them for creaking as I went, and finally collapsed onto my double bed and buried myself in lavender comforter.

Then the dread set in.

Like it did every afternoon when I got home from school.

The dread came from knowing that before the end of the day I would have to look at myself in the mirror and remember what I looked like to everyone who saw me that day. It wasn’t like I ever forgot. But sometimes I’d get distracted for a few hours. And that felt really good. Like when Merrick sat with me at lunch. And later, when he told me he was scared to dissect a frog. It was weird that he did it, but the weirdness kind of took over and I forgot to feel weird about everything else. I suddenly hoped that Merrick was really weird and creepy, because maybe he could distract me from my reality for a few weeks as my lab partner.

The bedroom door creaked. Mom had found me.

“Hi, Lovey,” she said. “Dad said your day sucked.”

“Did he also say I didn’t want to talk about it?” I mumbled through my bedding.

“I ignored that part.” She sat on the bed beside me. I wanted to cry. “Tell me what happened and I’ll tell you about the horrible people I booked vacations for today. I hate that horrible people get to take vacations.”

“Nothing happened,” I sighed over the lump in my throat.

“Just general suck then?”

I threw off the comforter and sat up to face her. She wasn’t going to leave.

“Danielle is being a total bitch,” I snapped.

“Don’t use that word to describe your best friend,” she said calmly. “Danielle loves you.”

“Well, she’s not acting like she does. She’s being really nosy and judgmental and mean to people she doesn’t even know.”

“What people?”

I decided not to invite my mother to explode with happiness that I was talking to a boy at school and tolerated him enough to not want Danielle to spread lies about him. That would be too much. “Nothing,” I said. “No one.”

She brushed my hair out of my face, and I pulled away. I didn’t want her to tell me I was pretty or some other lie. Why did moms have to lie about stuff like that?

“I want to go back to Dr. Allard,” I said, my voice breaking over the growing knot in my throat. “The stuff he gave me isn’t working and I want something else.”

“He said it might take a few months.” Her brows furrowed with pity.

“It’s just making it worse,” I argued.

“He said that might happen, too. For a little while.”

The tears were building, and I wished she would leave me alone.

“I want to take a shower and go to bed,” I cried. “Can I eat dinner in my room tonight?”

“No, Lovey. You need to eat with us.”

“Please, Mom,” I begged. “Just tonight. I don’t want to see anyone. I want to go to bed.”

She sighed. “Okay. Just tonight. I’ll bring you a plate in a couple of hours.”

I laid back down in bed and wiped my eyes with my pillowcase. “Thank you,” I sniffled.

“I’m going to tell Dad and Freddie that you’re in bed with menstrual cramps. Does that make you want to change your mind?”

I covered my mouth with the comforter so she wouldn’t see my half smile. “Tell them whatever you want. I’m not coming down.”

“Must be serious, then.” She stood up and walked to the door. “Annie, I know how crappy it is to have bad skin.” I bit down on the comforter to stop myself from screaming. “But it’s not everything. Try to remember that, okay? There are lots of kids your age who have worse things to deal with than pimples. The only difference is you can’t see what’s hurting them.”

“Fine. Whatever.” I’d heard the ‘you’re-better-off-than-most-kids’ speech before. It never made me feel any better.

She left me alone and I decided to get the worst part of my day over with so I could spend the rest of it in bed. I dragged myself to the bathroom and turned on the light. The fluorescent bulbs provided the perfect spotlight for my nightmare. I turned the shower on so my family wouldn’t be able to hear me. And then I stood in front of the mirror.

And I cried. And then I cried in the shower while I rubbed overpriced medicated cleanser into my face. I rubbed hard, even though I knew I wasn’t supposed to. I wanted to scrub my cheeks and chin and forehead until they were smooth. But I stopped when it started to hurt. Which was almost immediately.

Back in front of the mirror I slathered on a layer of white paste that stung because I’d opened up the skin in a few places. And I cried again. Because it hurt and because I hated what I looked like. I hated what people saw when they looked at me.

I went back to my room and dressed in my pajamas. I crawled into bed, even though it was only 4:30 and I wasn’t tired.

I laid there thinking until my mom brought me a plate of ravioli an hour later. I thought about Danielle and what a bitch she was being. Because she really was being a bitch. I thought about Drake and what a stupid, girly laugh he had. And I thought about Merrick and his awful lunch and his worn-out clothes and his kind eyes and the way he didn’t let people get to him. I wished I could stop caring what other people thought about me. He didn’t care what people thought. Maybe he could teach me how not to care, too.

The next morning, when I packed my lunch for school, I sneaked in a chocolate pudding cup. Not for me. Chocolate was a trigger for my acne. But Merrick didn’t have to worry about that. And I didn’t have to worry about my family not having enough money to buy pudding cups.

So maybe we weren’t all that different from each other.

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.

Dive in anytime or join the journey from page one.

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Chapter Two

I tucked the Rubik’s cube in the front pocket of my backpack before heading into biology. If Merrick saw me holding it, it would be an invitation for him to start talking to me, and I couldn’t risk that. Drake and his jerk friend Travis were in our class, not to mention Danielle, who had already warned me about talking to Merrick.

I grabbed my usual seat at the lab table near the front of the room next to Danielle, who was doing something that looked a lot like flirting with Drake at the table next to us.

“Hi Annie,” Danielle smiled. Her cheeks were pink. They got that way whenever she talked about a boy she liked. My stomach turned over.

“Yeah, hiiii Annee,” Drake mocked.

Danielle threw her head back laughing at what she must have thought was the punchline of the century.

I rolled my eyes all the way to the back table where Merrick was leaning back in his chair against the wall. His lab partner, Chris Green, was scribbling something in a notebook, maybe to look distracted so Merrick wouldn’t try to talk to him. I’d heard Chris say that Merrick was an okay lab partner, but only because he let Chris do all the work and didn’t try to help. Chris was an overachiever, so this worked well for him. And I’m sure Merrick appreciated the leg up on his biology grade.

Mr. Harrison (aka Mr. Hair is Gone) bustled through the door with his arms loaded up with thin textbooks. “Okay. Listen up. New unit. New lab partners.”

The room groaned.

“I’m sure it’s been nice working with your best friends all year, but there’s an ongoing issue in this class with fair sharing of the load.”

Travis snorted. At the word load, I had to assume.

“Work should be divided, fifty-fifty, and the best way to make sure that happens is to force you to partner with people you don’t know well enough to manipulate into doing all the work.”

Danielle grabbed my arm and gave me a panicked look. We did an okay job of sharing the load in biology, although her social engagements often took precedence over our study sessions. “Meeting Annie at the library to study” had become code for “meeting a bunch of older kids behind the 7-11 to smoke cigarettes.” Most of the notes we used to study for tests came from me. And I did one paper entirely by myself. We were both getting a C+ in the class, so it’s not like Danielle was being smart by letting me pull more weight. But I’m sure she was worried about getting stuck with someone below average for the rest of the year.

“You have exactly five minutes to choose a new partner,” Mr. Harrison challenged. “Anyone still left without one will be assigned one by me. Go.”

There was a mass screeching of stools across the tile floor and shuffling of feet as everyone scrambled to locate their second-best friend, first by shouting their name, then by a moment of earnest eye contact, followed by a claiming of one half of a lab table.

My instinct not to be last picked kicked in and I started scanning the room furiously. There was no one I would be able to stand working with in there other than Danielle.

“Hey,” she said, tapping me on the shoulder. “I’m really sorry. Drake said Travis will partner with you.” She looked at me with piteous eyes and very pink cheeks.

My heart sank as I looked over and saw Danielle’s backpack parked next to Drake. Across from him sat Travis, alone. He made a face that said, “Aw man, seriously? That girl?”

“No thanks,” I said, pulling away from her and heading to the back of the room. Chris Green was my one shot at surviving the rest of the term. But I was too late. He was sitting across from Merrick now, on the opposite side of their table, next to Brittany Parsons. Chris had his work cut out for him. Brittany was a total flake and prone to fits of fake illness to get out of classes. She was famous for having her period about fourteen days out of every month.

Merrick was still alone, leaning back in his stool and looking out the window. He seemed determined to get stuck with whatever loser remained partnerless at the end of five minutes. I turned back to see if Travis was still unclaimed, disturbed by my own idea that he might be a less disastrous lab partner than Merrick. But Travis was already partnered with Penelope Sawyer, one of the gaggle from the cafeteria earlier. She was really pretty and had more cleavage than any girl in our class. Travis looked intimidated, but a high five from Drake seemed to reassure him that he had a chance in hell of impressing her at some point.

“Miss Archer.” My head whipped toward the front of the room. Mr. Harrison was waiting with his eyebrows raised. He waved his hand toward the back corner. “Your lab partner awaits.”

I didn’t bother turning around to act surprised. And I didn’t look at Danielle to see her mouth the words, “I’m so sorry.” And I didn’t give Drake the satisfaction of letting his snicker affect me as I walked to the back of the room and took a seat next to Merrick.

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” he said, his eyes still gazing out the window.

“Guess so.”

“Maybe you will let me do some work this term.”

Merrick’s eyes were across the table now. Chris flushed at Brittany as she pulled a long strand of gum out of her mouth and coiled it around her finger.

I turned to Merrick and found him smirking. He rolled his eyes playfully and leaned forward to give his attention to Mr. Harrison.

“On your way out today, please grab one of these dissection guidebooks from my desk and read the first four chapters before next week. We start frog dissection on Monday.”

Drake stood up and collected another high five from Travis.

Merrick leaned toward me. His unexpected closeness made my earlobes go hot. I caught a whiff of peppermint and wondered if he was chewing gum.

“I hope you’re not squeamish about cutting things open.” His voice was worried. Not playful.

“I’m not,” I said, confident despite a mysterious flutter in my midsection. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning away. “A little bit.”

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

If this sounds like a world you remember well or one you’d like to explore and know better, welcome!

Annie and Merrick’s story starts here.

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Chapter One

“You shouldn’t touch your face.”

Those were the first words Merrick Iverson ever said to me. In all the time he’d been sitting behind me in homeroom. In all the years we’d been in school together.

“What did you say?”

It was his voice that made me turn around. Most guys in my grade had nothing but cruel things to say about my face, so I’d learned to ignore them. But Merrick’s voice was different. Kinder. It sounded like warm milk and honey tastes. Even though I rolled my eyes every time my mom offered it to me when I was upset (which I was… a lot), I always felt a little better after the first sip.

And I always wanted a second.

“You should try not to touch your skin,” he said more shyly, losing his nerve at the sight of the face he was so eager to protect. “It can make acne worse.”

My cheeks flushed and I turned away. “How would you know?” I mumbled.

He wouldn’t know. His skin was perfect. And for a ninth-grade boy, that was unheard of. But Merrick’s milk-and-honey voice and flawless complexion weren’t enough to win him any popularity. He was too weird for that. And too poor. And not smart enough.

I didn’t care about that stuff. But most people did. And Merrick wasn’t most people.

“My mom says it helps if you keep your hands away, that’s all,” he said.

I had a problem with saying mean things impulsively. Call it a defense mechanism. “I thought your mom was dead.”

He shifted in his chair. “Yeah. She is. Thanks for the reminder.”

My stomach twisted, but I shook it off. It didn’t matter if I hurt his feelings. We weren’t friends. And he was being nosy. Like I needed a reminder about how hideous I was. If he noticed I was touching my face it’s because he was looking at me, and I didn’t need people looking at me. I preferred it when they looked away. Most people did. My skin was horrible. Which is probably why I didn’t have any friends. Well, I had one.

Danielle had been my best friend since kindergarten. We still hung out. Mostly at school. Sometimes we’d have a sleepover, but I’d gotten less enthusiastic about those, since all Danielle wanted to do was talk about boys and do facials. I saw no reason to entertain the idea of having a boyfriend while I looked like a failed medical experiment. And the application of luxury skin care products only enraged my highly reactive skin. So, I would just sit there and pick at my chin while Danielle made her near perfect face look even more perfect for whatever boy she happened to be crushing on that week. I don’t think it ever occurred to her that I might be jealous. Or feel left out.

And even if I was feeling left out and she decided to give a crap, it was only a matter of time before Danielle got a boyfriend and stopped hanging out with me all together. I’d started to wonder if she was only friends with me because it was routine. Or maybe she just pitied me because I was so repulsive. Either way, I still liked having her around. Sometimes I even forgot to feel bad about myself when it was just the two of us. But at school, it wasn’t just the two of us. It was everyone else.

And everyone else at school sucked.

“Hey, Annie.” Drake Fletcher swaggered into the classroom with his neanderthal sidekick, Travis, in tow. “You have something on your face.” He brushed past my desk and threw his arm out in front of me, waving his hand around. “It’s like… right… oh, I guess it’s everywhere.” I swatted his hand away and he laughed. He had a high-pitched laugh that made him sound like a girl, but no one ever teased him about it. He had too much else going for him, I guess.

“What’s your problem, Iverson?” Drake stopped laughing and hovered behind my right shoulder. “You got something to say?” I held my breath for a response, but there wasn’t one. “Didn’t think so,” Drake hissed. He shoved his hip into Merrick’s desk, sending a black Sharpie toppling to the floor. It rolled forward enough so that I could reach it easily, but I pretended not to see it.

The back of my neck prickled, like someone was breathing on it, even though I knew they weren’t. And then my stomach twisted again. I wanted to turn around and say I was sorry to Merrick for bringing up his dead mom. That was a shitty thing to say. But I couldn’t risk Drake seeing my face, so I kept my head forward.

I thought that was the last I would ever hear from him. But it wasn’t. That same day, Merrick sat down across from me at lunch like it was totally normal.

“Hey, what’s up?” he said.

My hand instinctively went to my face. But he wasn’t looking at my face. He was busy unpacking his very sad looking bag lunch: A bruised apple, a piece of leftover pizza wrapped in a napkin, and a small can of creamed corn. He pulled back the lid from the can, lifted it to his mouth, and took what I can only call a ‘slug’ of wet corn soup.

He caught me looking at him. I must have been making a face.

“What? Not a big creamed corn fan?” He grinned sheepishly before digging into his pizza slice.

“Why don’t you get free lunch?” I asked.

“Why? Because I’m poor?” He raised his eyebrows.

“No,” I stammered, “I just thought…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s not news that we don’t have money. I just don’t think the food here is any better than what I get at home. Food’s food, right?” He took another bite of his stale-looking pizza.

My eyes darted to my right where a high-pitched laugh had erupted, followed by a burst of amused grunts and a round of slapped palms. I lowered my eyes before Drake’s had an opportunity to catch them. Then I scanned the cafeteria for Danielle, wondering what she would think when she walked in and saw me sitting with Merrick Iverson at our table.

“Did you want something?” I asked impatiently.

“Do I have to want something if I sit here?” He looked me in the eye and I flustered.

“No.”

“I guess I did want to say sorry,” he said, his eyes drifting to Drake’s table where the laughter had swelled again.

I watched him wipe his mouth with his pizza napkin. He missed a tiny bit of sauce on his bottom lip, but I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to know I was looking at him that closely. It was hard not to. His skin really was perfect. And he had a tan. I don’t know if it was because he spent a lot of time in the sun or if that’s the color he was all the time. But it suited him. And it complimented his eyes, which were a hazel green color. They reminded me of my dad’s eyes. But Merrick’s were greener.

I suddenly realized he was staring back at me, and I wasn’t covering my face. I looked down and searched my lunch bag for something that didn’t exist.

“Sorry for what?” I asked.

“For saying something to you earlier. I should mind my own business.”

He should have minded his own business, but it was hard to forget the mean thing I said about his mom that I still hadn’t apologized for.

“It’s okay. I’ve heard it before,” I said, twisting the cap of my iced tea off and on again.

“I can just tell you worry about it a lot,” he said. “Your face. And you shouldn’t.”

“Why not? Everyone else seems to be worried about it.” I glared at him until he looked away.

“Sorry. It’s just… you’re not alone. Everybody has a part of themselves they don’t want other people to see. We’re all kind of the same that way. Don’t you think?”

“No,” I said honestly. Because everyone could see the part of me I wished they couldn’t.

He shrugged and moved on to his bruised apple. I grimaced as he bit into it. It made no sound to suggest it was even a little bit fresh.

“Anyway,” he said over the mouthful of mush, “if you need something to keep your hands busy, just let me know.”

I blushed heavily. What was he suggesting?

He caught my eye and blushed enough for both of us. Then his mouth hung open like he was going to say something.

“Annie!” Danielle’s voice clipped my ear. I turned to see her standing with her tray, looking disgusted. “Come on, I found us a spot over here.”

I stuffed my unfinished lunch back into my bag and twisted myself away from Merrick, hurrying to Danielle. She didn’t take her eyes off him until I reached her side.

“Oh my god,” she whispered loudly. “I’m so sorry I was late. What did that creep want from you anyway?”

My insides knotted up. Calling him a creep was a little harsh. “Nothing. He just… had a question about biology homework,” I said.

“Right, like he’s ever done homework,” Danielle scoffed. “Be careful, Annie. I’ve heard things about him. He’s, like, really messed up.”

Danielle led me to a table at the other side of the cafeteria where a gaggle of girls was gossiping about the hot new student art teacher. I sat down and glanced over to where Merrick was still finishing his lunch. Alone now.

It was like watching a ghost. People were sitting down near him, walking past him, talking over him, but no one saw him. He was invisible. I envied that about him.

He took a long, last swig of creamed corn and then gathered his belongings and headed for the door. Drake yelled something at him as he walked out, but Merrick didn’t turn around. Drake’s gaze lingered on the door until it snapped shut. Maybe Merrick wasn’t invisible… to everyone.

I tried to finish my lunch, but the squealing of girls around me destroyed my appetite. One of them, a girl named Susan from Danielle’s homeroom, offered me a sad smile, as if to say, “Hey, sorry you can’t participate in our discussion about men since you’re like, an abomination or whatever.” My hand moved to cover my right cheek and I stared at the clock on the wall, hoping it would move a little quicker for the next five minutes.

I shuffled past Danielle and the girl squad on my way to my locker. I needed to pick up my biology book before class.

Our lockers didn’t have locks on them. So, it was best not to keep anything valuable or embarrassing there. It also made it way too easy for bullies to torment people because they could stick anything they wanted to into someone’s locker for them to find.

I kept my locker empty except for textbooks. I didn’t plaster it with pictures of boy bands, or poems I didn’t understand, or cute little envelopes dressed up to look like mailboxes for incoming notes from friends. And I did not have a mirror. I preferred not to have anything unpleasant waiting for me in my locker. That included my own face.

So, I was surprised to find a mini Rubik’s cube and a napkin sitting on top of my biology book. At closer look, the Rubik’s cube had been solved and the napkin had a note on it, written in green sharpie:

I crumpled up the napkin and shoved it in my pocket. I knew who it was from after the second line, but when he signed his name shorthand, as if he was inviting me to call him something a friend would, I panicked. If anyone else saw the note—to me from him—it would be the end of the world.

For both of us.

I exhaled over a flutter of nerves in my chest and absent-mindedly twisted the cube twice, rendering it unsolved. I laughed a little when I couldn’t immediately re-solve it after only two moves and wondered how long it had taken Merrick to solve it in the first place.

I really didn’t think Merrick was a creep. But I also wasn’t looking to make friends with him over one shared lunch and a regifted Rubik’s cube. I assumed he gave me his locker number so I would write him a note back. But I wasn’t going to do that.

I’d managed to survive almost my entire ninth grade year without becoming the subject of socially devastating gossip at school. If I wanted to maintain that streak, I needed to stay away from Merrick Iverson.

Especially if he really was as messed up as everyone said.

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It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in homeroom. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.

No filters. No curation. No do-overs. And no take-backs.

If this sounds like a world you remember well, or one you’d like to explore and know better, welcome!

I look forward to sharing Annie and Merrick’s story with you, and hope you will consider sharing it with others.

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If a gorgeous story about growing up, screwing up, standing up, and falling in love while tripping over your own hormone-laced heartstrings doesn’t appeal to you right now, you can always toggle of the “It’s Not Weird” section in your subscription settings. But I hope you’ll stick around and see what these kids have to learn from each other. And maybe learn something about yourself in the process. 💜

Below, you’ll find the book’s Table of Contents, so you never lose your way. And a link to a trigger statement for your consideration.

Chapters will be FREE for all to read and comments will be open! The best way to let me know you’re reading along each week is to let me know you’re reading along each week! 🙏🏻

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Trigger statement

Table of Contents

(To be updated as chapters are released. New chapters will land every Wednesday at 8am ET beginning on February 11, 2026)