“Okay,” Ruthie said, even though it wasn’t. Nothing about misrepresenting Greek mythology was okay.
“Now that that’s settled, can I have a volunteer to show Ruthie around?”
The pink-haired girl raised her hand.
“Great, thank you, Sage. All remaining Titans, please grab your baskets and join me in the garden.”
“There’s some serious BTE in this room, am I right?” Sage asked, once everyone had gone.
“What’s BTE?”
“Big Titan Energy. Come, I’ll give you a tour.”
Outside the oversized windows, the rest of the class was settling in a circle beneath a Japanese maple tree.
Sage started with a cabinet at the back of the room, which was divided into six sections. “Each one contains the materials we use for our seated subjects. Go ahead,” Sage said, proud. “Take a look.”
Ruthie lifted one section and found the books they’d be reading for literature. She lifted another and saw a sophisticated geometry set. Inside the third was a microscope, protective goggles, tools, a laptop, and a brand-new iPhone. Ruthie quickly closed it back up.
“What’s wrong?” Sage asked.
“I’m not allowed to use devices. My mom is worried about—”
“Your attention span?”
“No.”
“Vision?”
“No.”
“Online predators?”
“No. Radio frequency waves.”
“Don’t worry.” Sage swiped her hand dismissively. “We don’t use the devices. We take them apart. You know, to see how they work.”
A glitter bomb exploded inside Ruthie’s belly. Even though she missed Fonda and Ruthie, the TAG program was hard to hate. The classroom was spacious and modern; their outdoor space was a Zen den of tranquility. They even had a state-of-the-art kitchen for food science.
“Why don’t the other kids get all this?” Ruthie asked, thinking of Drew and Fonda.
Sage peered over the top of her glasses. “Seriously?”
Ruthie nodded.
“In their world, LOL stands for laugh out loud. In ours, it’s love of learning.”
Ruthie frowned. That sounded so elitist. “But—”
“Look, is TAG different from the regular curriculum? Yes. Do the Titans have an incredible learning facility? Yes. But no one is giving it to us. We have four fund-raisers every year to pay for all of this. We work for it. You’ll see.”
“Impressive,” Ruthie said. “But it doesn’t change the fact that our teacher was named after a loose stool.”
“It’s pronounced Ray-a,” Sage said flatly. “As in ray-a sun. Which she is. Trust me, you’ll love her.”
“Noted,” Ruthie said, disappointed. She liked pronouncing it her way much better. “What time is lunch?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“If we have a guest speaker, which we almost always do, in which case we eat outside in the pagoda and LTL.”
Ruthie rolled her eyes, tired of asking what everything meant.
“Learn through lunch,” Sage offered.
Ruthie longed for the comforting banana smell of Foxie’s ear. “So, we don’t eat lunch with everyone else?”
“Fear not, young Titan.” Sage threw an arm around Ruthie’s shoulder and squeezed. “You have us now.”
In that moment, Ruthie really did feel like a Titan: cast into the underworld and doomed for all of eternity.
chapter six.
DREW SLAPPED HER lunch box down on a four-seater table. “What about this one?” she asked Fonda. “The extra chair can be for Will, who will probably swing by for dessert.”
Unlike the scene at St. Catherine’s, where students ate in a crowded, hot-dog-scented banquet room, meals at Poplar Middle were enjoyed outdoors, on green metal tables that, like a restaurant, came in different sizes.
Fonda peered out over the top of yellow sunglasses and evaluated. Her mission to find the perfect table, the perfect everything, surprised Drew. When they went to the movies, Fonda always let Drew and Ruthie pick the seats. When the booths were taken at their favorite fro-yo shop, she’d shrug and pop a squat on the floor. Why did it suddenly matter where their table was? They were together! Their mission was already accomplished.
“I give it five stars,” Drew tried. “No bird poop, centrally located, and right next to—” She hitched her thumb toward the boys beside them.
“Ew, no, they’re sixth graders! Keep looking.”
“For what?”
“Something close to the Avas, but not right next to them. Near the grass, but not on it. Under the canopy, but only half shaded.”
Fonda eventually settled on a different four-top, one table away from the basketball courts and two down from the Avas’ Fjällräven Kånken backpacks, which they must have laid down before lunch even started. The only thing missing now was Will, who wasn’t in any of Drew’s morning classes or the hallways in between. And, of course, Ruthie.
“Do you think she got lost?” Drew asked, peering back at the glass wings.
“The girl can do a five-hundred-piece puzzle in fifteen minutes, but she can’t find the Lunch Garden. How is that even possible?”
Drew giggled. Lunch Garden. They really called it that.
“Dr. Fran needs to get her a phone already,” Fonda said as she pressed her glossy lips against a skinny can of grapefruit Perrier and downed it in one gulp.
Baaaap.
Fonda covered her mouth and giggled.
“Excuse you.” Drew laughed, grateful for the burp. It proved that Fonda was still Fonda, even though she was trying really hard to be something else.
Two brunettes in matching denim skirts approached their table.
“Taken,” Fonda said.
“You can’t save,” said the freckly one as she set down her tray.
“I’m not saving.”
“Then why are there two empty seats here?”
“Our friend is in the restroom.”
“There’s room for one of you, though,” Drew offered, knowing that they’d never split up. Girls in matching outfits rarely did.
They exchanged a horrified look.
“Don’t worry. We get it.” Fonda grinned as she handed Freckles her tray. “I did see some open seats by the trash cans . . .”
“You’re a trash can,” said Freckles’s friend as they left.
“That girl is no boomerang,” Drew said once they were alone. “She’s terrible at comebacks.” Then she popped the top off her Tupperware. “Chicken dinos. Yes!”
Fonda stood. “Guard this table with your life.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find Ruthie before someone else tries to steal her spot.”
“Wait!” Drew bristled. “You can’t just leave me here.”
“I’ll be right back,” Fonda said. “Don’t. Get. Up.”
Drew bit into a cold dino. “Hurry.”
Now alone, she became hyperaware of her surroundings. The swells of laughter, the crinkle of chip bags, the pop-hiss of soda cans being opened. She felt obvious, conspicuous, and impossible to miss: a gawky palm tree in a Lunch Garden of delicate flowers.
She wanted to study the boys. She wanted to know if any of the girls were into skating. She wanted to know if she’d always feel like an outsider. But more than anything, she wanted to know if Will was nearby.
The honeysuckle-scented breeze tickled the back of Drew’s neck. Was he behind her . . . looking at her right now? Gazing at her ponytail with those denim-blue eyes of his? It was a level-five creepy thought that made her legs twitch. Then itch.
She wanted to scratch.
She wanted to turn.
She couldn’t turn.
Turning would seem desperate. Instead, Dre
w examined her cuticles, trying to appear aloof. But ten cuticles only bought her ten seconds. After that, temptation crossed the finish line and won. Its prize: a full 360-degree perimeter scan. Which wasn’t much of a prize, considering Will wasn’t watching her at all. No one was.
Then came the familiar grind of polyurethane wheels on asphalt. Had her eye finally spied the guy?
Drew tracked the sound to the basketball courts. A force she could only describe as supernatural lifted her from her seat and guided her toward the blacktop, where she had the pleasure of watching Will stick a kickflip while his friend shot video. Her knees buckled a little. It was as if all twenty-five feet of Drew’s intestines were being squashed by intense feelings. No wonder they called it a crush.
Next Will tic-tacked around his friend, and his relaxed stance made it look much easier than it was. Drew was daring herself to say hey when his wheels rolled over an empty Ziploc bag and the board slipped out from under him. He was on the ground now, spine curved like a croissant.
Drew’s heart began to rev. Was Will hurt?
Fighting the urge to run, Drew moved calmly toward him because, according to Nurse Cate, running often caused victims to panic. And it was crucial for first responders to appear in control. But before she got close, Will popped back up and mounted his board, and the tic-tacking quickly resumed.
Now too close to watch from afar, Drew was forced to make contact. “Hey,” she said, waving.
It was the moment in the story when Will was supposed to hop off his board, jog over, and greet her with an easy smile. But apparently this wasn’t that movie. This was a reality show. One where Will saw Drew and then, with barely a nod in her direction, rode off in the opposite direction.
“There you are!” Fonda said, coming in hot. Her strides were determined, and her flat-ironed hair was pumping around her face like fish gills. “I went to our table, and you weren’t there. You know who was, though? That freckly girl and three of her friends.”
The table! “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I totally for—”
“It was the perfect spot! Now we have nothing.”
“I—”
“Why did you get up?”
Drew pointed at the boys at the far end of the court, who were now playfully knocking into each other’s boards. “Will,” she squeaked.
“Oh,” Fonda said, the furrow between her brows softening. “Did you talk to him?”
“No,” Drew muttered. “He acted like he didn’t know me.”
“Maybe he has bad eyesight,” Fonda tried.
“I hope so.” Then, “Did you find Ruthie?”
“Sure did,” Fonda said, gazing out at the distant peaks of the Santa Ana Mountains, as if remembering simpler times. “She’s in her classroom.”
“Doing what?”
“Learning through lunch.”
“That’s a thing?” It sounded even more stuck-up than Lunch Garden.
“Apparently.”
“So she’ll sit with us tomorrow?”
Fonda shook her head. “It’s every day.”
“For the entire year?”
“Yep.”
A sleeping bag of sadness enveloped Drew. The only thing that got her through six years at St. Catherine’s—where fitting in meant pretending to care about gossip, cupcake competition shows, and soccer—was knowing that, come seventh grade, she could go to school with Fonda and Ruthie. She could love skateboarding, hate hairbrushes, and choose to be a nurse instead of a doctor, without judgment. When the three of them were together, she could finally just be. But the three of them weren’t together, and it felt as if Christmas had been canceled.
Drew and Fonda stood at the edge of the blacktop, silent and uneasy, trapped in the thick stickiness of not knowing what to do next.
“I’m sorry I left the table,” Drew said, meaning it. Not only did she break her promise, she did it for a guy who didn’t care enough to wave. “It wasn’t even worth it.”
The warmth returned to Fonda’s eyes, and she grabbed Drew by the wrist. “Then let’s make it worth it. Let’s go talk to him.”
“I can’t.”
“If you don’t, we’ll have lost our table for nothing, and I can’t live with that.”
“Fine,” Drew sighed, grateful for Fonda’s support but also a little bit nervous. What if he ignored her a second time?
With Fonda by her side, Drew moved toward Will with bouncy, friendly steps. “Hey,” she called again.
The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile that quickly fell when his buddy rolled up.
“Hey,” said the friend. “I’m Henry.” Dark-eyed and deeply tanned, he had shaggy brown hair and the latest iPhone, which had only come out a day earlier.
“Yeah,” Drew said, “I know who you are. You threw a ball at me in PE this morning.”
“No fair,” Fonda said. “You got to play dodgeball?”
“No. We ran track, which is why the whole ball thing was weird.”
Henry’s cheeks reddened. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“And you two already know each other, right?” Fonda said to Will.
Drew flashed her friend a grateful smile.
“You know her?” Henry asked Will, surprised. “How?”
Will ran a hand through his hair. Drew waited for the blond spikes to form, then grinned when they did. “Uh, Battleflag, right?”
“Of course, doofus.” Drew laughed, assuming Will was joking, because Will had to be joking. The infirmary was only three days ago. But he didn’t laugh back. He simply stood there, gazing out at those Santa Ana Mountains.
“So, um, were you guys playing Zombie?” Drew pressed.
Will shrugged. “We were just skating.”
“Makes sense,” Drew said. “You’re not wearing blindfolds, so, duh . . .” She knocked herself on the side of the head, then giggled awkwardly. “Hey, I should bring my board tomorrow. And we can all—”
“Cool!” Henry said. “You could definitely join me after school—Will has a thing, right, Will? But we could go to the skate park.”
“Uh, yeah—right.” Will rested a foot on his board and began pushing it back and forth, his gaze now lowered. Had he forgotten to take his Levocetirizine?
Drew shot Fonda a wide-eyed glance. Now what?
“Uh, Drew, what’s that awesome trick you just learned? The Oliver?”
“An ollie.” Drew giggled.
“Yeah,” Fonda said. “Do you guys know that one?”
“Yep,” Henry said, wiping a mess of hair away from his eyes. “I taught it to Will last year.”
“You taught it to me?” Will laughed. “Nice try, dude, I taught it to you.”
“Ha! What a lie!”
“You’re the one lying!”
Moments later they were chasing each other around the blacktop, throwing sloppy punches and hurling accusations at one another, leaving Drew and Fonda on the sidelines to watch.
“Um, those guys are waiting for us,” Fonda told Drew in her loudest speaking voice. “We better go.”
“What guys?” Drew asked.
Fonda shot Drew a wide-eyed glare. Work with me here.
“Oh, them,” Drew shouted. “Yeah, we should go!” she echoed, even though she wanted to stay until she figured out why Will was acting so weird. But Fonda’s tug was insistent. And probably for the best.
Arm in arm, they hurried across the blacktop, and when it was safe to talk, Drew mumbled, “It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”
“Yeah.” Fonda cut a look to the tiny red logo on Drew’s shirt. “I know how you feel.”
But she didn’t know how Drew felt. No one did. Except for Drew’s Tupperware, which they eventually found in the dirt.
chapter seven.
FONDA’S ORIGINAL PLAN was to share her brilliant idea with Drew
and Ruthie later that night, during their Friday sleepover, but the crows were cawing overhead like anxious gossips. Tell them before you get to school! they seemed to beg. Tell them right now!
“Let’s brand ourselves,” she blurted as she smile-waved at the crossing guard. It was the last day of their first week of school, and she was determined to make a name for herself—for all three of them—before the weekend.
“Brand?” Ruthie asked. “Like we’re cattle?”
Drew laughed and said, “Mooove over, Avas, here we come!”
They were obviously joking, but the comment didn’t feel funny. It felt like a combat boot kick to the gut. Fonda was trying to pave a path to popularity for them, trying to help them feel like they belonged. Why didn’t they care?
Meanwhile, the Avas were a few feet ahead, walking arm in arm toward the campus, fastened together like links on a chain. Their legs were long, tanned, and perfectly synchronized. They were a Venus razor commercial that didn’t need color coordinating to prove they moved through life together. It was obvious.
“We should start an Instagram account,” Fonda continued. “We’ll post live stories from our sleepovers and pictures of us doing fun things. And guess what our hashtag can be?” She unhooked one strap of her backpack, letting it dangle. “Nesties!”
Drew’s nose crinkled the way it did when Doug crop-dusted her with a fart. “Actually?”
Fonda nodded. “Next-door besties.”
Drew dropped her skateboard to the grass, stomped on its tail, and caught it. “Nappen.”
“What’s nappen?”
“Another word my mom invented. It stands for not gonna happen.”
“Wouldn’t that be nogoppen?” Ruthie asked.
“Yes, but pointing that out to my mom is nogoppen,” Drew said. “I don’t want to encourage her.”
“That’s fine.” Ruthie shrugged. “My parents won’t let me have a phone anyway, so—”
“And mine won’t let me have Instagram,” Drew added.
“Then I’ll do the posting,” Fonda said.
Ruthie finger-combed her bangs. “If we can’t see it, what’s the point?”
“The point is for other people to know we’re a friend group.”
girl stuff. Page 4
