“SO, SOMETHING REALLY WEIRD happened yesterday,” I tell Mara as we begin our walk home from school.
“Oooh, what?” she asks eagerly.
“So, do you know that guy Josh Miller? He’s a senior on the basketball team?”
“Of course.”
“Yeah. Of course. Well, he was talking to me. Like talking to me. It almost seemed like . . . I don’t know. No, forget it. It’s stupid.” I laugh.
“No, what? You have to tell me now—I’m hooked!”
“Okay. But first, believe me, I know full well exactly how stupid this is going to sound,” I warn her.
“Oh. My. God—just tell me!” she demands, laughing.
“Well, you know how I dropped band? So, I got put in this study hall instead. And he’s in there—Josh—and he gave up the seat next to him so I could sit there. And then he was trying to talk to me, almost like he was actually . . . interested.” I wait for her to start laughing, but she just continues to look at me. “Interested in me, I mean,” I clarify.
“Okay, first of all, why would you think I would think that’s stupid? And second of all . . . WOOO-HOOOO!” she screams, jumping up and down right in the middle of the street. “YEEEEESSSS!”
“Oh my gosh, stop! You’re crazy!” I yell. But we’re both laughing uncontrollably.
“So what happened next?” she asks, her laugh fading as she tries to catch her breath.
“What do you mean? Nothing. Was something supposed to happen next?”
“I mean, how did you leave things? What exactly did he say to you?”
“He said he was going to save me a seat tomorrow.”
“Perfect!” she shouts. “So then tomorrow you—”
“Wait.” I interrupt her. “I’m not actually going to be there tomorrow, though.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I kind of volunteered in the library for that period,” I admit.
She stares into my eyes, unblinking, her smile fading rapidly. “I’m sorry, did you suffer a blow to the head?”
“You think I should’ve stayed in the study hall?”
“Duh-uh!” she yells. “Of course, Edy. Have you learned nothing this summer?”
I think about it for several minutes as we walk. Mara keeps letting out these small exasperated breaths, and looking at me and shaking her head, periodically sighing. “Oh, Edy.”
“You’re right,” I tell her once we reach the corner where we need to part. “You’re totally right. I don’t know why I did that. I just got scared, I guess.”
“Scared of what? It’s Joshua Miller—this is a great thing, Edy.”
I just shrug. Because I can’t tell her exactly what I mean. And I know she wouldn’t be able to understand even if I could.
