Ramona Blue

by Julie Murphy

He sits with his hand between us, palm facing up. I tell myself it’s just the way he’s sitting, but it feels too much like an invitation to ignore. I rest my hand next to his so that all that’s touching is our pinkies. I think I do it to prove to myself that we can be friends. We can touch and it can mean nothing—or well, as much as it means when my hand brushes up against Ruth’s or Adam’s or Saul’s. But instead what I find is that my heart, my whole heart, has made its way to my pinkie along with all the blood that runs through my veins. My heart pounds in that one little finger as it barely brushes against his.

I love this passage.

Reggie and Saul are the perfects hosts.

(typo--Kindle edition)

I dance so that Ruth’s back is facing them, and I wonder if they’re going to tell us we can’t be here or that we can’t dance together. It’s the first time I’ve felt in danger of being told I don’t belong simply because I’m being myself. It’s a feeling I want to forget, but one I know I will always remember. But then the librarian, Mrs. Treviño, steps into the conversation, and the other teachers quickly disperse. I heave a sigh of relief.

Yay for the librarian! I love when librarians are heroes!