Camo Girl by Kekla Magoon Page A

to come?”
    We parade down the street to the local diner. Willy is about a hundred years old, but he can make anything you can imagine you might want to eat, and make it good.
    The others start crowding into a booth. It’s one of those half-moon benches that’s designed for five or six people, but there are nine of us. I hesitate, thinking I will have to be part of the small group that’s sent away. Cass nudgesme, and I flop forward, thumping into the booth. She sits down right next to me, prodding me to slide along. She flicks her fingers at me, and I scoot, scoot, scoot, until I’ve come around the U and find myself shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh with Bailey.
    Too Close. Bailey and I are sitting too close. His shoulder leans against mine on one side, but I can’t move away because Cass is right there on the other. Not that I want to move away. But I do, because when he turns his head, his face will be right next to mine. He’ll see me up close, and that can’t be good.
    A waitress brings a tray of water glasses and slides them around in front of us. There isn’t one for everyone, so I don’t reach. Not until I know what’s going on. The waitress whips out her notepad and stands expectantly by the side of the table.
    One by one, the guys order chocolate milk shakes. The girls order diet root beer floats. I’ve always been a fan of milk shakes. Strawberry-banana.
    The waitress stares at me, snapping her gum.
    â€œDiet root beer float,” I say.
    The waitress nods and spins off. Her sensible shoes make a little squeak on the tile floor. I wait for some reaction from the others. I’m pretty sure I ordered right, but still.
    No one is looking at me. Cass and Liza are comparing lip gloss flavors from their purses. Bailey and Max are getting riled up talking over the fourth quarter of last week’s Knicks–Lakers game.
    No one is looking at me. Kurt methodically folds his place mat into a paper football. Millie pretends to read her place mat, but I can tell she’s hiding a smile, possibly because she’s sitting right next to Rick. Rick and Kelly fight over the sixth and final glass of water, sending most of it splashing across the table. Cass rolls her eyes and throws both of our napkins into the fray. Bailey turns his head toward me and grins. It feels right, so I smile. But I still feel like I’m waiting, like there will be some great moment of realization when they all see me as one of them or else point me out as the poser I am.
    I’ve infiltrated.
The thought goes through my head quickly, and it makes me giggle a little. Cass glances at me and shrugs her shoulders like,
What?
    I shrug too, searching for a plausible excuse. Finally I lean over and whisper, “Bailey’s . . . cute.”
    Cass giggles. She whispers back, “Yeah.”
    I giggle again, ’cause it’s allowed, and Cass can’t read my mind. I’ve infiltrated the popular people. In a weird way, Z would be proud.

    We step outside the soda shop, and the most amazing thing happens. Bailey slings his arm around my shoulders, all casual. “Give you a ride home?” he says.
    A thousand yeses bubble up in my throat, get caught.
    Out of nowhere, Z is there. Watching us. Tears rolling down his fragile cheeks.

CHAPTER 21
    I ’ve made a mistake, a terrible mistake.
    The soda shop is right across the street from the library. Z stands on the library side of things, down at the curb, glaring at us. From this distance, he looks so small. No jacket, no backpack. Just his ratty T-shirt and jeans.
    How long he’s been watching us, there’s no way to know. Or what he’s thinking.
    Our eyes meet. He takes fleeting steps backward until his back is pressed against the outside wall. He sidles around the corner, almost out of sight.
    I shrug out from under Bailey’s arm. “I can’t,” I say. “There’s something I’ve gotta