“What about you?”
“I have a game tomorrow night, so the worst I’ll get is a lunchtime detention.” Bryson shakes his head and sighs.
“True,” I say as Bryson takes my books and bag. I slide into his blazer. It’s a few sizes too big and smells like him—pine. It’s probably some name-brand cologne, but as I inhale, I know that it is worth every penny.
“Let’s go,” Bryson says. He studies me one final time before handing over my belongings.
“Go?”
“To drama,” Bryson says, chuckling. Then he leaves me standing there.
All I can do is watch as he walks away. Not that I’m complaining about the sight or anything. The bell rings and I race to catch up to him. I’m not in the mood to serve another of Mrs. Henning’s detentions.
We walk to drama together, and by the time we arrive, everyone is seated. Bryson high-fives Isaac and sits down next to him. He twists to look at me expectantly and taps the empty spot beside him. I sit cross-legged and pull my copy of Romeo and Juliet from my bag.
Mrs. Henning enters the auditorium just as the start-of-period bell rings. Today she is wearing a faux-fur jacket, leather pants, and bedazzled heels. To top it all off, she’s wearing a wig straight out of the French Revolution. All she needs to say now is Let them eat cake.
She comes to a stop at center stage and holds out a sheet of paper. “Good morrow, my thespians. Before we begin, please pass around this sign-up sheet. I’m allowing you all to book hour slots to rehearse for the performances this Friday. Also, I would like to inform all of you that I have decided to extend the deadline for the school play submissions. It, too, will be on Friday. Many factors led to this decision, so please use this extra time wisely. I want to be wowed,” Mrs. Henning says. “Now, Mr. Keller, could you please fetch me a chair?”
Bryson nods and stands. He disappears backstage to find a chair for Mrs. Henning. I catch the drama teacher’s gaze; she offers me a slight nod and there’s a smile at her lips. Did she extend the deadline for me? Whatever the reason, I gasp in disbelief. There’s a chance for me yet. I smile as I pull a pen from my bag and accept the sign-up sheet from Jessica Cho. A lot of the slots have already been filled, and given Bryson’s busy schedule, I need his help to decide the best time for us to practice.
I turn to the person beside me. Isaac is talking to someone else. I reach out and tap him. He fixes his blue eyes on me.
“Uh, you can fill in your slot first. I need to wait for Bryson.”
“Cool.” He accepts the sheet and looks around for a pen. His eyes land on the one in my hand. “Can I?” He offers me a thin-lipped smile.
“Sure.” Our fingers touch as he takes the pen from me and I feel myself flush. Even though I know Isaac is straight, it doesn’t stop me from feeling some type of way about him. That’s why one-sided crushes exist.
“Thanks.” When he smiles this time, he shows teeth. One of Isaac’s front teeth overlaps the other, but instead of detracting from his looks, that small quirk only adds to them.
“No problem.” I watch as he leans forward and fills in the time he prefers. Unlike Bryson, Isaac does have good handwriting.
Isaac leans back and puts my pen against his lips. I watch every movement. He must feel the weight of my eyes because he looks up. His brow furrows as he does. I look away first.
“Here you go, Kai.” It’s the first time Isaac has spoken my name to me. And the sound of it from his lips thrills me. He holds out my pen and the sign-up sheet.
I reach for it slowly. Bryson sits down louder than necessary and plucks the pen and paper from Isaac’s hands. He’s studying me like I’m some math problem that he can’t figure out.
“What’s wrong?” Isaac asks.
“Nothing,” Bryson says. But it doesn’t sound that way, and before either of us can ask anything further, he turns to me. “When would you like to practice?”
I glance over his shoulder and meet Isaac’s eyes. He shrugs and smiles again. I feel heat coloring my cheeks. Bryson holds up the sheet of paper and waves it. Effectively breaking my eye contact with Isaac.
“How about at lunch sometime?” I say, meeting his eyes instead.
“Tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
Bryson smiles as he scribbles in our chosen time. As he does, a small part of me wonders what just happened. A small part of me, the one that lives in fantasyland, can’t help but ask: Is Bryson Keller jealous?
It’s an absurd thought, so I choose to ignore it.
* * *
• • •
When the lunch bell chimes, Donny and I leave our math classroom and head toward the cafeteria. Already it’s filled with other students. Some stand in line waiting for their turn to be served, while others sit at the many rectangular tables that fill the space. Donny and I join the line. Soon I am greeted by the smell of grilled cheese sandwiches. Few things in this world are as pure and sweet as a well-done grilled cheese sandwich. Aside from pizza and books, it’s the thing the human race can be proudest of.
I order and pay for my lunch and turn to find Priya already seated at our regular table. Priya spots me first and waves me over excitedly. With Bryson being my ride this morning, this is the first time that I’m seeing her today.
I cross the cafeteria and take my seat. Donny slides into his place opposite his girlfriend. I take a bite and savor the taste. Few places manage to get the right amount of cheese on a grilled cheese sandwich, and surprisingly enough, the Fairvale cafeteria does it the best. Well, second best—not even this can compete with Dad’s.
“There you are, Kai,” Shannon Flockhart says. I look up to meet Priya’s gaze, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s staring at the girl standing at my back.
Shannon and Priya have been mortal enemies since last year. And in this feud, I have never been Switzerland. I have picked a side and it isn’t Shannon’s.
She is public enemy number one, and she knows it.
“No,” Priya says.
“I’m not here for you,” Shannon starts.
“I don’t care.”
At last year’s Spring Carnival, Shannon wore a bindi. Priya tried to explain to her that it wasn’t just a fashion statement, that what Shannon was doing was cultural appropriation, but the other girl wouldn’t hear it. Instead, she started to cry and accused Priya of being a bully. In the end, both girls’ parents were called to the school, and it became a matter dealt with behind closed doors. Of course, Priya told us everything. She even showed us the apology letter that Shannon wrote. The insincerity and victim playing were hard to ignore. Since then, there’s been bad blood.
And once Priyanka Reddy has a grudge, she tends to it like a much-loved pet.
“I just—”
“Bye.” Priyanka makes a show of chewing a grape—slowly. Her dark eyes bore into Shannon’s. Eventually the other girl spins on her heel and leaves with a huff.
“What did She Who Shall Not Be Named want?”
I shrug. “I think she wants to know who’s dating Bryson Keller this week.”
“Why would you know that?” Priya asks.
Instead of answering, I take a big bite of my sandwich.
“She’s so annoying,” Priya scoffs.
Donny eyes the blazer that’s between us. “Whose is this?”
I take a deep breath before lying to my best friends.
“Bryson’s. He forgot it after drama. I’ve been meaning to return it, but I keep forgetting.”
“Ah, no wonder Shannon thinks you’re close,” Donny says.
“That name, Donald. I’ve told you not to use it before. It upsets me,” Priya jokes.
“Yeah, I’m really not that close to him. We’re just working on our drama project,” I explain.
Even though I’m totally not looking for him, I do notice t
hat Bryson is missing when Dustin and the rest of the soccer team walk into the cafeteria. It’s a rare occurrence for the Cougars to even be here. The team usually leaves school for lunch.
I pull my phone from my pocket and open my chat with Kelly. Did you get detention?
“Who’s Kelly?” Donny asks. His eyes are trained on my phone screen. I angle it away from him as I read the reply.
Yeah. It’s okay though. No big deal.
My eyes move to Bryson’s blazer. He did end up getting into trouble because of it—because of me.
“Kai, who’s Kelly?” Donny asks again.
“No one.” I can feel both of my friends’ eyes on me. “It’s really no one.”
My phone vibrates with a text. You eating out?
“No One seems to be texting you a lot,” Priya teases.
“Is it Kelly Gold?” Donny asks.
“No.”
“Kelly O’Brien?”
“Donny, be quiet.” His rattling off of Kelly names is messing with my thoughts.
Where are you? I text back.
“Kelly De Palo?”
“Donny,” I grumble. “Give it a rest.” I know my words are futile. When Donny latches onto something, he doesn’t let it go. He’s like an untrained puppy that way. It’s one of his charms, but also really annoying.
In the west quad. Why? Want to visit me?
I check my watch. The lunch break is almost over.
“Maybe Kelly is short for Kelsey?” Donny muses. “Maybe it’s Kelsey Scott.”
“Donald, learn to read the room. Jesus,” Priya says. “Kai clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.” I watch as Priya gets up from her seat. “I need the bathroom.”
“I need to go, too,” I say as I gather my things. “I’ll see you later.”
I throw away my trash and run up to the lady at the counter to place another order before the cafeteria closes. Two minutes later, my order is served. With no time to waste, I sprint to make it to detention before the bell rings.
Setting a new world record, I arrive at the west quad breathless and red in the face. I spot Bryson leaning against the wall. For most students, lunchtime detention means being sent to this quad and staring at a wall in silence. It’s why we call it Purgatory. Other offenders stand around him. Bryson doesn’t see me at first. His eyes are on his phone.
I approach him and clear my throat. Bryson looks up, surprised. He makes to hide his phone but then realizes that it’s me. He smiles like he’s happy to see me. Is he?
“You’re here?” He looks at his watch and then at my heaving chest. “You didn’t actually have to come.”
“I did,” I wheeze.
“Why is that?”
I hold out a warm grilled cheese sandwich and a bottle of apple juice. He looks from the offered items to my face, studying me.
“For me?” He smiles, showing his dimple.
“Yes.”
He takes his lunch just as the bell rings.
“I always try to give as good as I get,” I say.
10
The library is my favorite place in all of Fairvale Academy. Located in block A, it is large enough to house a very modern computer lab. Even though the end-of-school bell has just rung, the library is already bustling as I enter. To my right and walled off by glass is the computer lab, directly in front of me are various workstations and alcoves with a few comfortable chairs thrown in the mix, and to my left are rows and rows of bookshelves.
Someone bumps into me as they race into the library. Before I can complain, they throw me a whispered apology. I watch as they head toward the computer lab. Spaces are limited and it’s often on a first come, first served basis.
“It’s good to see you, Kai,” says Ms. Tarkovsky, the head librarian. I move to put my belongings behind the counter.
“You too, Ms. Tarkovsky.”
“You can work the front desk while I finalize our latest guest speaker.” I nod and watch as the librarian heads toward her office. I love that the library invites authors for events. It’s amazing to meet people who are living my dream.
I take up my post behind the computer, ready to scan books in and out. The first student who approaches me is none other than Shannon Flockhart.
“Jesus Christ, Shannon. Are you stalking me now?”
Shannon ignores my question. “You and BK seem to be really close lately?”
“BK?” I know who she means, but the jock nickname doesn’t fit the boy I’ve spent time getting to know. I don’t share my thoughts with her, though. If there’s one thing Shannon is known for, it’s her desire for a scoop.
“Bryson, silly.” She pats my shoulder as if we’re old friends. The overly chumminess is so fake that it sets my teeth on edge.
“What do you want, Shannon?” I ask, wanting nothing more than to end this charade.
“Tell me who Bryson’s dating now. I’ll even pay you,” she says. “No one has updated their Instagram with evidence. We all want to know.”
I sigh. “Not everyone updates their Instagram.”
“Everyone who dates Bryson Keller does it. Check the hashtag.”
It seems that I am not everyone.
“I seriously don’t know who it is.”
“Liar,” Shannon says.
“Why are you so sure I know something?”
“Because you’ve spent the most time with him this week.” Shannon cocks a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “You know I have a sixth sense about these things,” she says. “I smell something fishy.”
“Ask Bryson if you’re so curious. I don’t get what this has to do with me.” I try to deflect and almost sigh in relief when another student comes to stand behind her. I smile at Eric Ferguson before turning back to Shannon. “Would you excuse me? I need to do my job, please.”
Shannon steps aside but makes no move to leave. It seems that the aspiring reporter in her has awakened.
Eric walks up to return a book. “How was it?” I ask as I scan the spine.
“It’s a good read. If you like fantasy, you should check it out,” Eric says.
“I do, actually.” I smile at Eric and set the book off to the side so that I can read it later. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to hang out with other gay teens like Eric. I haven’t been brave enough to take that step yet. Eric offers me a parting smile. And as soon as he leaves, Shannon pounces.
“I know you know.”
“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” I mumble under my breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, you said something.”
I stare her dead in the face. “I think you’re imagining things, Shannon.”
Shannon groans. “You’re just as annoying as Priya.”
The fact that she insists on calling Priya by her shortened name, regardless of the many times sh’es been asked not to, irks me further.
“Proud of it,” I say with a smile so sweet it could attract bees.
Shannon studies me. “I think you’re hiding something. You have me intrigued.” Before I can respond, Shannon leaves the library.
I sigh. The last thing I need is the aspiring journalist looking into me. I’ll need to be careful. But I’ve been lying for years—I’ve become pretty good at it.
I’m finally able to work in peace. My shift passes in no time, and with five minutes left, I venture into the stacks.
I’m busy reshelving books when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Donny has linked the trailer of a movie that he wants us to all go see.
My phone buzzes with another text and I open the message from Kelly: Where are you?
“Oh! There you are.” His voice surprises me. I turn to find Bryson standing at the entrance of the aisle. Bryson Keller with his cap backward should be illegal. It should b
e impossible for anyone to look this good, especially after they spent an hour and a half running on a soccer field.
“Kelly?” Bryson asks. He’s staring at his message open on my phone. “Am I ‘Kelly’?”
“I shortened Keller to Kelly,” I explain. “I figured a girl’s name would be easier to explain to prying eyes.”
“That’s really smart,” Bryson says. “But also really shitty that you even needed to do that.”
I turn to look at him and realize we’re standing so close—maybe too close. God, it’s unfair for someone to be this handsome. I step back and end up pushing the book cart by accident. Bryson reaches for it. I move to take it, but he stops me.
“I’ll help you,” he says. “I’ll steer, you shelve. Deal?”
“Works for me.” I take a moment to study Bryson. His hair is damp from the shower, and he’s wearing gym clothes instead of his school uniform. Looking at him now, I realize that my fantasy of him last night wasn’t that far off.
“What made you want to work in the library?” Bryson asks as he steers the cart.
“I’ve always loved books,” I say. I decide to tell Bryson another of my secrets: my dream. More people know about it than they know about me being gay, but not many, too few to count on both hands. “I want to be a writer. And you really can’t be a writer without being a reader first.” I stop the cart and place another book back where it belongs. I turn to him. “Do you have a dream? Is it soccer?”
Bryson pauses and looks at me before answering. “It used to be,” he admits. “Soccer was something I loved to do with my dad. But now I play it more out of habit than love.” Bryson shrugs. “I’m hoping to find out my dream in college. Something that’s only for me.”
“Have you decided where you’re going yet?”
“I got accepted to UCLA, but they want me to play soccer and I’m not sure if I want to yet.”
“Oh, I got accepted there, too. Though not to play soccer.” Bryson laughs at my lame joke and I’m thankful. I signal for him to steer the cart and he does. “I’m waiting to hear back from my dream school.”
“Which is?”
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