have cereal in my teeth or something? He wouldn’t look at me.”
She bares her teeth for me to check, and I shake my head. “Your teeth are fine.”
“Weird.” She runs her tongue around in her mouth.
Taylor flashes me a devilish smirk as I walk into first period. A reminder that she’s on to me. I ignore her and sit in my seat. James’s wavy-haired head is on his desk, his breathing shallow but steady. Sleeping this early? He sits up groggily for morning prayers and then goes back to sleep. Mr. Roth doesn’t seem to notice, too deep in his integer lecture to look around the room. I extend my pencil across the gap between our desks, poking James in the arm.
“Psst.”
He doesn’t move. I poke him more insistently, and his eyes crack open.
“If you’re going to poke me, use the soft eraser end, would you?”
“Is that your special talent or something? Falling asleep at inopportune times?”
He yawns, eyes tearing. “Girls who look like you shouldn’t use big words.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I hiss.
“People get jealous of beautiful and intelligent people. You can be one, but not the other. You can be a little of one, and a lot of the other. But both extremes at once is trouble. Too much hate and envy. But hey—your life. You wanna make it hard on yourself, feel free.” He puts his head back down.
Did he just call me pretty? I can’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult.
“Mr. Anders, would you repeat back to me what I just said?” Mr. Roth’s voice cuts between us.
James raises his head and sighs. “You were saying something about reverse engineering the problem?”
“No. I’d like you to stay after class.” Mr. Roth’s words are short.
James sinks, defeated, on the desk. The class murmurs amongst themselves until Mr. Roth raps the board to get attention.
The paper under James’s head—our worksheet—is mostly blank. He’s done a few problems. I blink. They don’t have any work scribbled next to them, yet the answers are clearly there. Seventy-two. I do the problem myself, scribbling my work in the margins of my own sheet. Seventy-two exactly. The next problem, he’s put thirteen. I do that problem, my work scrawling down the page. Lots of written work, but it comes out to thirteen. My eyebrows raise. Is he really that good?
I look for him at lunch, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Cassie comes over, chest heaving. It’s a show the boys appreciate, elbowing each other and laughing as she passes. She seems oblivious, or maybe she’s gotten used to it by now.
“What are you two doing on Saturday?” She slides into our table.
Merril shrugs. “I have to go pick up Dad’s car from the shop in the morning, but after that I’m free.”
“What about you, Erica?” Cassie smiles.
“I’m free.”
“Awesome. Bowling. Lucky Nine Lanes—third exit off the interstate. Totally trashy, totally cheesy, absolutely perfect. I’ll bring Alex—boyfriend.” She winks at me. “And you guys can meet him. If you wanna bring other boys, that’s cool too.”
Merril grabs my arm. I have a bruise in the shape of her hand by now. “You have to invite Kerwin!”
“What? Why me?”
“He’s into you.” Cass flashes me a smile. “Would
not
stop asking about you in first period.”
Merril pouts, but I pat her shoulder. “If you want, I’ll invite him for you.”
Her face brightens, doe eyes unable to hide much.
Tracking Kerwin down is easy. He has a small crowd of people around him at all times. Popular? Without a doubt. He slouches against his locker, his soccer buddies shoving each other and laughing.
“Um, hi, Kerwin.”
His dark-haired head turns to me, and his smile is contagious. Would be, if I were the kind of girl to fall for it. It’s a very, very fake smile, but just honest enough that it fools most people.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Cass is having this thing, a sort of get-together at Lucky Nine Lanes. I just wanted to know if you wanted to
She bares her teeth for me to check, and I shake my head. “Your teeth are fine.”
“Weird.” She runs her tongue around in her mouth.
Taylor flashes me a devilish smirk as I walk into first period. A reminder that she’s on to me. I ignore her and sit in my seat. James’s wavy-haired head is on his desk, his breathing shallow but steady. Sleeping this early? He sits up groggily for morning prayers and then goes back to sleep. Mr. Roth doesn’t seem to notice, too deep in his integer lecture to look around the room. I extend my pencil across the gap between our desks, poking James in the arm.
“Psst.”
He doesn’t move. I poke him more insistently, and his eyes crack open.
“If you’re going to poke me, use the soft eraser end, would you?”
“Is that your special talent or something? Falling asleep at inopportune times?”
He yawns, eyes tearing. “Girls who look like you shouldn’t use big words.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I hiss.
“People get jealous of beautiful and intelligent people. You can be one, but not the other. You can be a little of one, and a lot of the other. But both extremes at once is trouble. Too much hate and envy. But hey—your life. You wanna make it hard on yourself, feel free.” He puts his head back down.
Did he just call me pretty? I can’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult.
“Mr. Anders, would you repeat back to me what I just said?” Mr. Roth’s voice cuts between us.
James raises his head and sighs. “You were saying something about reverse engineering the problem?”
“No. I’d like you to stay after class.” Mr. Roth’s words are short.
James sinks, defeated, on the desk. The class murmurs amongst themselves until Mr. Roth raps the board to get attention.
The paper under James’s head—our worksheet—is mostly blank. He’s done a few problems. I blink. They don’t have any work scribbled next to them, yet the answers are clearly there. Seventy-two. I do the problem myself, scribbling my work in the margins of my own sheet. Seventy-two exactly. The next problem, he’s put thirteen. I do that problem, my work scrawling down the page. Lots of written work, but it comes out to thirteen. My eyebrows raise. Is he really that good?
I look for him at lunch, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Cassie comes over, chest heaving. It’s a show the boys appreciate, elbowing each other and laughing as she passes. She seems oblivious, or maybe she’s gotten used to it by now.
“What are you two doing on Saturday?” She slides into our table.
Merril shrugs. “I have to go pick up Dad’s car from the shop in the morning, but after that I’m free.”
“What about you, Erica?” Cassie smiles.
“I’m free.”
“Awesome. Bowling. Lucky Nine Lanes—third exit off the interstate. Totally trashy, totally cheesy, absolutely perfect. I’ll bring Alex—boyfriend.” She winks at me. “And you guys can meet him. If you wanna bring other boys, that’s cool too.”
Merril grabs my arm. I have a bruise in the shape of her hand by now. “You have to invite Kerwin!”
“What? Why me?”
“He’s into you.” Cass flashes me a smile. “Would
not
stop asking about you in first period.”
Merril pouts, but I pat her shoulder. “If you want, I’ll invite him for you.”
Her face brightens, doe eyes unable to hide much.
Tracking Kerwin down is easy. He has a small crowd of people around him at all times. Popular? Without a doubt. He slouches against his locker, his soccer buddies shoving each other and laughing.
“Um, hi, Kerwin.”
His dark-haired head turns to me, and his smile is contagious. Would be, if I were the kind of girl to fall for it. It’s a very, very fake smile, but just honest enough that it fools most people.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Cass is having this thing, a sort of get-together at Lucky Nine Lanes. I just wanted to know if you wanted to
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