Words and Their Meanings by Kate Bassett

out.”
    I’m pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard her squeal in delight. In fact, I’m a little worried Mateo heard it, clear across town.
    Got to love a drama queen, I suppose.

18
    N at drives me home because running is not an option. Neither is walking, considering the quarter-size blisters I have on my heels. And the button-size ones on top of my toes.
    â€œLet’s wait a few days to go through Joe’s room,” Nat says as she turns into my driveway. “In the meantime, you’ve got to call Mateo back.”
    I start to protest but she’s already reciting the lines she wants me to say.
    â€œHey, Mateo,” Nat practically coos, “it’s Anna! Sorry I rushed off the phone this morning, I was in the middle of drying my hair” (Nat flips hers as she says this). “Anyway, I’m busy tonight, but I have a free afternoon tomorrow, if you want to go with me to see my best friend’s boyfriend’s soccer game. You know Nat, right? She’s the most fabulous friend in the universe, super talented and beautiful and—”
    â€œOh, yeah.” I nod. “I am totally going to say all of that.”
    Nat smiles and shoves me out the door before stalling the car, twice.
    Once I’m alone, I pull the phone from my pocket. Play hot potato with it. My blood is running flood-river style through my body right now. I decide I’m not calling. Decide I am calling. Decide he’s probably figured out I’m a hot mess. Decide I need to know if this is true.
    He picks up on the first ring.
    â€œHi,” I say, too fast to hang up.
    Silence. I pick a frayed thread on my shorts.
    â€œHi?” I try again.
    â€œYeah, I’m here,” Mateo replies. “Just had to double-check who was calling, because after this morning, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you.”
    I set my jaw. This was a bad idea.
    â€œBut I’m glad,” he adds. “That you called.”
    â€œYeah, well.” I stall as much as Dolores. “Even though you ate way more banana split than I did last night, I figure I either owe you six dollars or can drag you to watch my friend Nat’s boyfriend play soccer tomorrow, where I can pay six dollars for you to experience the concession stand’s equally enticing hot dogs and fake-buttered buckets of popcorn.”
    â€œYou’ve got a weird sense of balancing out a debt,” Mateo says. I can tell his dimple is showing.
    â€œWell, I know it’s slumming—” I cough to cover up my faux pas. It’s not that I assume Mateo lives in a ghetto, it’s just, well, us township kids aren’t well versed in his area of town. And vice versa.
    â€œHow do you know I haven’t already experienced those delicacies?” he asks. I twist a chunk of hair around and around until my finger turns purple.
    â€œDo you play travel soccer?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDo you have friends that play travel soccer? At the field on my side of town?”
    â€œYour side of town?”
    â€œThat’s not what I meant.”
    â€œUh-huh. I’ve never been to this snack shack of yours, so how about I pick you up tomorrow and allow you the pleasure of introducing my fine palette to such preservative-rich treasures.”
    I can’t help laughing.
    â€œYou sound ridiculous when you talk like that,” I say after snorting.
    â€œHow do you know this is not how I carry on a normal conversation?” His words come out like a slow current.
    â€œI just do,” I say, trying to match his tempo.

Daily Verse:
    You can always count on me to be just yapping away.

19
    I opt for a thin purple (pre-Patti, to appease Mom) long-sleeve shirt, cut-off jean shorts, black Converse high-tops, and three leather cords draped around my neck. The one hanging closest to my twined gold key has swirling glass beads on each side of a Celtic cross. The designs carved into the metal used to be tinted