assignment, I suddenly find myself not wanting to go any further in front of Craig.
“I know,” she says, squeezing my hand. “It’ll be fine. I’m sorry I got you into this mess. Just let him figure it out. Follow his lead.”
The crocheted sack flies past our knees and Craig dives to avoid it. “Should I be jealous?” He hurls it back at Benjy.
“No!” we cry in unison.
Three days later Jake Sharpe has not done anything—that I can follow, or otherwise. I walk over as Biology ends and inch in between his friends as they pack up their books. Closer than I’ve been to him in the five months since our “date,” I try to ignore the lingering freckles from his spring break tan. “Jake?”
“Hey.” He fidgets with his pen.
“Hey. So we should probably plan to practice or something.” Sam and Todd turn and push their heads over his shoulder, sticking their tongues out like Gene Simmons.
“Cool. Whenever.”
“I have fourth period free on Monday. Do you think it’ll be enough time to prepare? If we wait till Monday? That’s only five days.”
Suddenly his eyes land on mine and he smiles like he just remembered the idea of me and likes it. “Yeah.”
“So, fourth period, Monday. Think the music room’ll be free? Maybe that’s better. I think the gym is free. The gym is definitely free. What do you think?”
“What do you think?” Todd mimics, grinning stupidly.
“Whichever.” He shrugs.
Yeah, I get it, you don’t care. “Fine. The gym.”
“Cool.” He nods, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder. As they walk away a dime slips from a hole in the canvas where he has ball-pointed a lizard. I pick it up.
I get into the gym at the start of fourth period. I get a hand-cramp flipping that f’ing dime between my fingers. I get a sore butt from sitting on the hard wood and keeping my hair fluffed just right for three hours. I get detention for skipping fifth period in case I had the time wrong. I get annoyed on a whole new level.
“Jake.” I tap him on the shoulder at the drinking fountain. “What happened?”
“Hey.” He pulls back like I stung him.
I drop my offending hand. “Hey. So, what happened?”
“What?” He wipes the droplets from his chin. “Fourth period, Wednesday.”
Sam strolls by and punches him in the arm.
“Monday. That was yesterday,” I say as he reaches around me to punch Sam’s departing back. “So, what do you want to do?” I crane my head for his attention, trying to keep from biting the inside of my mouth in annoyance.
“How about Wednesday, you know, fourth?”
Of course I can’t fourth on Wednesday. “I can’t fourth on Wednesday.” I switch my books to my other hip. “How about after school? The music room should be free.”
“Cool.”
So not. So far from cool. So very far. Mrs. Beazley stops in some time after dark to pick up her forgotten fuchsia glasses and wakes me on the risers, my hands asleep from resting under my hair to keep it fluffed.
“Hi, Jake?”
“Hey.”
“This is Katie Hollis.” I lean against my kitchen wall.
“Yeah, hey.”
“Hey.” I repeat.
Laura rolls her hand at me, helpfully prompting. I take her cue, “I’m calling because—so, what happened?”
“Right,” he says like he knew I was going to call.
“Oh my god!” I mouth to Laura, throwing my palm out. “Yeah,” I try to relax my voice so as to avoid further fulfilling any expectation of me as psycho. Laura makes a stern face and I turn my back to her, focusing instead on the stove clock. “Well, we only have two days left.”
“I know. After school?” he volunteers.
Arms crossed, I stare at the braided rag rug, puckering my mouth to the left. “How about before, just to be safe. Is that too early for you?”
“No way. I’m there.” I hear the twanging of a guitar being tuned in the background. “Sam, dude, hold on.”
I pivot back to Laura, who is practicing her twirling with two spatulas. “Okay, Jake, so, seven A .
“I know,” she says, squeezing my hand. “It’ll be fine. I’m sorry I got you into this mess. Just let him figure it out. Follow his lead.”
The crocheted sack flies past our knees and Craig dives to avoid it. “Should I be jealous?” He hurls it back at Benjy.
“No!” we cry in unison.
Three days later Jake Sharpe has not done anything—that I can follow, or otherwise. I walk over as Biology ends and inch in between his friends as they pack up their books. Closer than I’ve been to him in the five months since our “date,” I try to ignore the lingering freckles from his spring break tan. “Jake?”
“Hey.” He fidgets with his pen.
“Hey. So we should probably plan to practice or something.” Sam and Todd turn and push their heads over his shoulder, sticking their tongues out like Gene Simmons.
“Cool. Whenever.”
“I have fourth period free on Monday. Do you think it’ll be enough time to prepare? If we wait till Monday? That’s only five days.”
Suddenly his eyes land on mine and he smiles like he just remembered the idea of me and likes it. “Yeah.”
“So, fourth period, Monday. Think the music room’ll be free? Maybe that’s better. I think the gym is free. The gym is definitely free. What do you think?”
“What do you think?” Todd mimics, grinning stupidly.
“Whichever.” He shrugs.
Yeah, I get it, you don’t care. “Fine. The gym.”
“Cool.” He nods, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder. As they walk away a dime slips from a hole in the canvas where he has ball-pointed a lizard. I pick it up.
I get into the gym at the start of fourth period. I get a hand-cramp flipping that f’ing dime between my fingers. I get a sore butt from sitting on the hard wood and keeping my hair fluffed just right for three hours. I get detention for skipping fifth period in case I had the time wrong. I get annoyed on a whole new level.
“Jake.” I tap him on the shoulder at the drinking fountain. “What happened?”
“Hey.” He pulls back like I stung him.
I drop my offending hand. “Hey. So, what happened?”
“What?” He wipes the droplets from his chin. “Fourth period, Wednesday.”
Sam strolls by and punches him in the arm.
“Monday. That was yesterday,” I say as he reaches around me to punch Sam’s departing back. “So, what do you want to do?” I crane my head for his attention, trying to keep from biting the inside of my mouth in annoyance.
“How about Wednesday, you know, fourth?”
Of course I can’t fourth on Wednesday. “I can’t fourth on Wednesday.” I switch my books to my other hip. “How about after school? The music room should be free.”
“Cool.”
So not. So far from cool. So very far. Mrs. Beazley stops in some time after dark to pick up her forgotten fuchsia glasses and wakes me on the risers, my hands asleep from resting under my hair to keep it fluffed.
“Hi, Jake?”
“Hey.”
“This is Katie Hollis.” I lean against my kitchen wall.
“Yeah, hey.”
“Hey.” I repeat.
Laura rolls her hand at me, helpfully prompting. I take her cue, “I’m calling because—so, what happened?”
“Right,” he says like he knew I was going to call.
“Oh my god!” I mouth to Laura, throwing my palm out. “Yeah,” I try to relax my voice so as to avoid further fulfilling any expectation of me as psycho. Laura makes a stern face and I turn my back to her, focusing instead on the stove clock. “Well, we only have two days left.”
“I know. After school?” he volunteers.
Arms crossed, I stare at the braided rag rug, puckering my mouth to the left. “How about before, just to be safe. Is that too early for you?”
“No way. I’m there.” I hear the twanging of a guitar being tuned in the background. “Sam, dude, hold on.”
I pivot back to Laura, who is practicing her twirling with two spatulas. “Okay, Jake, so, seven A .
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