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Hammond saw me through the window, salivating there like a loser, and started to lift his hand in a wave until he saw Chloe and the girls walking toward him. Then he blushed beet red, and I turned around and took the first seat I saw—at the very end of an empty table. To my right, nothing but freshmen. To my left, a group of pasty, black-clad kids who had obviously spent their summer watching and rewatching the first two seasons of True Blood in someone’s basement. I recognized a few faces at the table across the aisle, but they were way too far away for me to consider getting up and going over there. Plus, what if they wanted to have nothing to do with me? What if the Crestie poison had trickled down to the Norms?
I took a huge bite of my turkey sandwich, resolving to eat as quickly as possible and spend the rest of the period with my face in a book, letting the rest of the world fade to white noise.
“Would you ever get a nipple ring?”
A tall, lanky guy with a buzz cut sat down to my right, dropping his tray and a Time magazine on the table. On the chair next to him he slapped down a guitar catalog and a soccer ball.
“Wha?” That’s how surprised I was. I couldn’t even finish the word.
“Don’t mind him. He has a filtering problem.”
A
“There’s an article in here about it, and I’m interested,” the guy said, gesturing at his magazine. “So, would you?”
“No plans at present,” I said. “But never say never.”
“Good answer,” he said, flashing an adorable, dimpled smile.
A
“Um, hey, A
“Functioning. You?”
“Good, I guess,” I replied hesitantly.
Wasn’t this the girl who used to burst into select songs from Wicked in the middle of lunch? What was with the acerbic?
“This is David Drake,” she said, gesturing with a potato chip.
“We were lab partners in eighth,” he said.
I lit up in recognition. “Right! You never forget the person you cut up your first frog with.”
He tilted his Gatorade bottle toward me, and I clicked it with my Snapple.
“That’s fu
“Um, thanks,” I said.
“So, we came over here because we figure we should be friends now that you’re back,” David said.
I narrowed my eyes. “No offense, but . . . why, exactly?”
“Ever hear that saying ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?” A
“No.”
“It’s a saying,” she said, like she was trying to convince me.
“I believe you,” I replied. “But what does it have to do with anything?”
“We hate the Cresties, the Cresties hate you,” A
The lump in my stomach traveled up to my throat. David must have noticed something in my face.
“Not that anyone actually hates you,” he said quickly.
“No. They actually do,” A
“A
“What?”
I couldn’t take this conversation anymore. “No. It’s fine. I just . . . I’m confused.” I looked at A
“I crash Crestie functions from time to time. For research,” A
“Research?” I asked.
“Yeah. They don’t exactly like the Norms showing up, but if I don’t bother them, they don’t bother me. It’s like a ‘don’t talk, don’t talk back’ policy. You, however, you talk back.” She gave a short, almost proud, laugh.
“Not really. . . .”
“Listen, just so you know, if you ever want help steering clear of the Cresties, I have all their schedules on here.” She whipped out her school-issued laptop, also covered in stickers, and opened it to reveal a spreadsheet of student schedules. Yes, all the students at Orchard Hill High were given their very own MacBook on their first day of school, for use throughout their academic careers at OHH. My own slightly-used-but-clean computer was currently nestled inside my messenger bag. I had a feeling the powers that be weren’t going to appreciate A
“Oookay,” I said, taking a sip of iced tea. “Hey, A
“You’re fu
So that’s what she meant by “research.”
“Wow. That’s . . . interesting. Is Faith helping you with that?” I asked.
She let out this noise that was, like, half cackle, half guffaw. “Um, no.”
I looked at David. He shook his head ever so slightly like, Don’t go there. I guess more had changed between Faith and A
“You play?” I asked, nodding at David’s soccer ball.
“Soccer or guitar?” he asked, pouring some protein powder into his Gatorade, capping it, and shaking it up. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. I play both. And this year I have a new band and I plan to make varsity.”
“Cool. Maybe I can be your backslapper.”
“You’re still doing Backslappers?” A
I shrugged, ignoring the twinge of nerves in my shoulders. “Yeah. Why?”
“The Cresties own the Backslappers,” David said. “Are you a sadist?”
“You’re on soccer with them and you’re still alive,” I pointed out.
“Excellent point,” David said, tipping his bottle again. “But I’m tough. I can take it.”
“So can I,” I replied, wishing I felt a tad more confident.
“I like a girl with guts,” David said as A
He nodded toward the windows, and I turned to look at my old friend. She was sitting at the end of the Crestie table, chatting with Faith and Chloe in her ski
“He’s been in love with her for-ev-er,” A
“I would kill for her to backslap me,” David said.
“I’ll slap you right now,” A
I laughed, wondering if Sha
I had started to turn back to the table when my eyes caught Jake’s. He stopped laughing. Our gazes locked for a long, intense moment during which all oxygen disappeared from the caf. He blinked first, and I blushed and turned my back on him. Great. Now he probably thought I was ogling him. Jerk. I couldn’t believe that lame attempt at an apology he’d made that morning. Like, what? I was going to swoon and kiss his feet for acknowledging me after the complete diss of the night before? Maybe if he’d been at all genuine—if he’d said anything true rather than getting all defensive—I might have cared. But that? That was crap. Clearly he was that hot guy who got all the girls but had the depth of a puddle. So not what I needed right now.