Andy laughs at that. “It must be karma that you chose me as your victim. My bank account has about forty dollars in it. Better luck next time.” He regards me, head cocked to the side. “Is that why you brought the wallet back? Not enough money in there for you?”
“It was pitiful.” I shake my head and paste an expression of sorrow on my face.
“Huh. It seems being poor has its advantages.”
“Indeed.”
I tap my finger on the table in front of me. “You dropped it in the library,” I say. “I thought about keeping it hostage to convince you to tutor the team, but then I changed my mind.” I gesture around the restaurant. “Good thing too. If I hadn’t returned it to you, you would have had to make a run for it when it came time to pay for your lunch. Now that I think about it, you owe me one. Thanks to my efforts, you don’t have to start a life of crime.”
Andy isn’t convinced. Instead, he frowns. “How did you even know where to find me?” His eyes go wide. “I have a feeling I’m not going to like it. Did you stalk me? Plant a bug in my laptop? Steal my phone and download a tracker app onto it?”
“Yes, I also downloaded the whole Spice Girls’ music catalogue for you in honor of their billionth reunion.”
He snorts, and I smile at the sound. “You give me way too much credit. I went to the physics department, and some guy told me you’d be here. So, the way I see it, I’ve rescued your wallet. I’ve protected it overnight. And I’ve taken time out of my very busy schedule to hand-deliver it to you, allowing you to pay for your food and not have to work as a dishwasher to compensate for it. Huh. Might be just me, but it seems you owe me one.”
Andy laughs at that. “This is gonna be good. Did you look inside it?”
Now I’m confused. “Is that a trick question? No, I did not rummage through your stuff.”
He pushes the leather square toward me. “Go on, then.”
I narrow my eyes at Andy, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what kind of game he’s playing, so I take the wallet and open it.
There’s pretty much nothing there. Five bucks in the cash compartment. A bus pass. That’s it.
I close the wallet. “It’s… very minimalist.”
“Yeah. I lose my wallet about once a month, so I always have cash on my person. There’s five bucks in my pocket, a couple of dollars in my backpack and for real emergencies, I have a fiver under the insole of my sneaker. Sooo… about that whole you-owe-me deal? I already paid for lunch.” He shrugs, lips twitching. “Sorry, you can’t trick your way into tutoring, since I wouldn’t even have noticed the missing wallet for at least another week.” He plucks the wallet out of my fingers and stuffs it into his backpack. “Listen, I’d help you if I could, but as I keep telling you, I’m not the right fit for this job.”
I lean back in my chair. Until he said that, I’d almost forgotten that I had a purpose for being here. It’s enjoyable to banter with Andy. I’m not sure what I expected Andy to be like, but I was definitely leaning toward somebody much less… interesting. Yeah, that seems about right. Andy is smart, quick with a comeback, and witty. Even though he seems unsure about the tutoring gig, I’m getting more and more convinced that fate has pointed me in the right direction, and Andy Carter is going to be my saving grace.
I’m about to continue when a shadow falls over our table. I look up and wince. Falcon Asola. The guy despises me, and all because of a teensy-weensy little prank the hockey team played on the basketball team once upon a time.
We filled the basketball court with plastic cups of water. I admit, not the most sophisticated prank out there, but it worked well as a team-building exercise since it took a hell of a lot of planning not to get caught, and the whole team needed to work together for several hours to pull the whole thing off. It wouldn’t have caused so much animosity between the basketball and hockey teams if it weren’t for the fact that the basketball team retaliated, but unlike us, they got caught. Somehow Asola seems to think it’s my fault they scored themselves punishment. Needless to say, neither of us is going to start any fan clubs for each other anytime soon.
“Anderson.” Asola’s tone is icy.
Mine isn’t much warmer, as I reply, “Asola.”
I admit, I don’t especially like the guy, but the same can’t be said about Andy because he seems to have lit up as soon as he noticed the dude.
“Hey,” Andy says and smiles.
I blink in surprise. I can see his gums. That is one hell of a warm greeting and isn’t even in the same universe with the suspicious look I got from Andy when I arrived.
Asola frowns at me but then seems to decide ignoring me is the best tactic, so he concentrates all his attention on Andy. He pulls something out of his back pocket and taps it against Andy’s shoulder.
“You forgot this again,” he says and—what do you know—places another wallet in front of Andy. Andy throws me a quick glance before he grabs the thing and flashes another one of those gum-bearing smiles at Asola.
“Dude, thanks. I didn’t even notice. I don’t know what I would have done without it.” Andy chuckles, more strained this time, as his eyes flitter over me again. “I would have had to wash the dishes to pay for my lunch or something.”
I cross my arms on my chest and fight back a smile. This is getting very, very interesting.
Asola reaches out his hand and ruffles Andy’s hair like somebody would his ten-year-old brother. “You know I would have come and saved you—again—if you’d called. What are friends for? I should sew that thing on you. One of these days you’re going to lose it, and then you’ll have to replace all of your documents and stuff, and you know how much you hate the DMV.”
Andy rubs the back of his neck and looks at everywhere but at me. The tips of his ears are bright red. “Hah. Yeah. I definitely owe you one,” is all he has to say about that.
Asola chuckles and pats Andy on the back, and I swear to God, Andy leans into the touch like a cat, starved for attention.
“Listen, I’ve gotta run. I have some last-minute shopping to do. Mom wants some kind of a crazy new cookbook, and I promised to get it for her.” Asola gives me another one of those patented suspicious glares that he seems to keep at hand just for me. “Want me to give you a ride home?” he asks Andy.
Andy glances at me and flushes, and I can’t help but grin because I’ve found my angle for approaching the tutoring gig.
“Actually,” I interrupt and make them both look at me with similar expressions of suspicion. “Andy was helping me with something.”
“Helping?” Falcon asks, confused now. “With what?” He looks between me and Andy, and frowns. “Andy sucks at sports.”
Andy’s face falls at that, and I raise my brows because even if Andy doesn’t happen to be as athletic as Asola and I are, I wouldn’t dismiss everything else Andy has to offer.
“Whatever.” Asola ignores me. “You should come. I’ll be leaving tomorrow, and there’s this thing with the basketball team. You could tag along.”
Andy seems to have checked out, though. He’s staring at a point on the wall, deep in thought, and whatever is going on in his mind, he doesn’t seem happy about it.
Andy takes a moment to realize that both Falcon and I are looking at him.
“What?” he asks.
Falcon stares at Andy as if checking if the guy hasn’t been replaced by a body double. “I asked you if you want me to give you a ride home.”
Andy’s eyes move between me and Falcon. He seems unsure, but I’m not going to take any chances and let Andy’s loyalty to Falcon win. “We’re not done talking yet,” I say.
Falcon snorts. “What have you two got to talk about?” I hold back a smug smile because even though Asola doesn’t seem to realize it, he has lost.
A defiant look appears in Andy’s eyes. “Just… stuff,” he says.
“Stuff.” Falcon repeats. He’s skeptical, and Andy lifts his chin as he stares Falcon down.
“I’ve got stuf
f,” he says, and it finally seems to register with Asola that he has put his foot in his mouth.
He raises his hands. “I believe you.”
“Well… good,” Andy says.
“Good,” Asola repeats.
They stare at each other, Asola’s gaze curious and Andy’s defiant.
“This is riveting stuff,” I interrupt. “Hey! Stuff!” I hold back a smirk as I high-five myself. Asola looks like he’s got confirmation of my douchiness, as he’s always suspected. “But Andy and I do have things to discuss, so you can run along and go do your errands now.”
Asola’s jaw clenches, but when Andy doesn’t make a move to go with him, he says goodbye and gets out of there.
Andy looks after him until he disappears behind the door. He doesn’t look lovesick or anything, but I would bet my car he’s overthinking it all in his head, contemplating if he made the wrong choice and will regret it later.
“I’m feeling hungry,” I say and grin, drawing Andy’s attention back to me. “Pizza?” I ask.
“I’ve already eaten.” Andy points to his empty plate.
I shrug. “Suit yourself.” It only takes me a moment to catch the attention of the waitress.
“So, you and Falcon Asola, huh?” I ask once I’ve placed my order, and the waitress has left.
Andy is in the middle of drinking, and he almost chokes on his water. “What?” he squeaks.
I reach over and pat him on the back. “Easy there. You two seemed… friendly.”
Andy eyes me over his half-empty glass. “We’ve known each other since middle school. He moved in to the house next to mine, and we’ve been friends ever since.”
“That’s nice,” I say mildly, and Andy’s shoulders relax a fraction. “And how long have you had a crush on him?”
Andy chokes on air this time. Huh. I didn’t know you could do that. I reach over and tap him on the back. “What’s with all the choking? I thought you of all people knew about your crush.”
“Yeah, and I thought it was a well-kept secret.” He scowls at me.
I purse my lips. “Ooh, I wouldn’t bet on that one.”
Andy slams his head against the table so hard that the glasses rattle. “Kill me now. End my misery with a pizza cutter.”
“Sorry, we don’t have one.” It’s getting hard to hide my amusement, but I do my best. I don’t think Andy would appreciate me laughing in the middle of his crisis.
“Break the glass, then. Use your creativity. I’m mortified here and need a friend’s help.”
“Oh, so we’re friends?” I ask.
“Not if you refuse to help a guy out.”
“Fine, fine,” I sigh. “I guess I can strangle you if you insist.”
He lifts his head and scrunches his nose, and I’m caught unawares by how adorable it looks. “I don’t think that’s how I want to go.”
“Oh, but a pizza cutter would be fine.”
“I like the gore factor. I presume you’re not very skilled at murder, so it’d be a bloodbath. People would forever remember me as the slaughtered-pizza-place guy. They would come here and see the bloodstains on the floor, and I’d get a pizza named after me. I’d prefer Andy’s Assassination to have pineapple, ham, blue cheese, and potato chips on it. Be a pal and let the owners know, m’kay?”
“The level of thought you’ve put into this is disturbing.”
He places his palm on his heart and gasps. “You haven’t made plans for how you’re going to die? I’m not sure I can be friends with somebody so careless about the important things in life.”
“I prefer to be spontaneous,” I say. “Potato chips on a pizza. Really?”
He raises his index finger in warning. “Do not even go there. I already have Falcon to give me a hard time about my eating habits, so you and I are going to be the kind of friends who don’t nag about junk food and sweets and don’t try to poison each other by serving kale.”
He shudders in disgust.
“Not a fan?” I ask with a grin that is getting wider and wider by second.
“It’s the devil’s food, and since it’s super trendy people force themselves to ignore the fact that it tastes like old newspaper garnished with sweat from socks that have been forgotten in the bottom of someone’s gym bag for a week.”
I raise my glass and nod solemnly. “I’ll drink to that.”
We clink our glasses together and then the waitress appears with my pizza. I grab myself a big slice and wave the plate in front of Andy’s nose. “Come on, you know you want to.” He rolls his eyes, but takes a slice. For a few moments we just eat.
I study Andy. I need to play this smart. I don’t think I’ll get another shot to convince Andy to help me. Let’s face it, I’m already flirting with a restraining order here, so somehow, I have to make Andy think he needs me just as much as I need him.
This should be interesting.
5
Andy
“So why haven’t you told Asola how you feel?” Law asks.
The pleasant feeling inside me disappears with a snap, replaced by the nervous, jittery worry that always accompanies thoughts of Falcon and my crush on him.
I tinker with the edge of the coaster. “It’s complicated.”
Law leans back in his chair. “You’re scared.”
I scoff. “You’d be a lousy detective. I’m not scared. Besides, didn’t you insinuate a moment ago that my feelings are so obvious that everybody knows? Falcon has said nothing, so maybe he’s not into me.”
“I didn’t say Asola knows. I’m about ninety-nine percent certain he lives in his safe friend bubble, and you know it.” He looks smug. “So it’s up to you to pop that bubble for him, and yet you’ve said nothing. Your words say tough guy, but your actions say coward.”
I roll my eyes so hard that, for a moment, it feels like I can see the inside of my head. “Fine. I’m not afraid yet,” I amend.
Law’s face is a stellar representation of a question mark.
“I’m not going to say anything to Falcon until I’ve made some changes,” I explain. “First, I need to… to present myself in a way that would make him see me as a potential boyfriend.”
The question mark is still there. I sigh as I try to think of the best way to explain the predicament that has stopped me from professing my undying love for my best friend.
“It’s like you said, we’ve known each other for so long that I don’t think Falcon is able to see me as anything other than the Andy he met the summer before ninth grade. You think I’m a dork now? You should have seen that dude. Let’s just say that I had a lot in common with Martin Prince.”
“The nerdy kid from The Simpsons?”
“Oh yeah. I mean, there was less bullying because my sisters threatened to beat up anybody who was mean to me, but it took me a while in elementary school to learn to curb my teacher’s pet tendencies, so I wasn’t exactly popular.”
Law mulls that over for a minute. “So what’s the plan, then?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to need to change,” I say.
Law’s eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline. “Hasn’t anybody ever told you that’s a bad idea? You can’t alter your personality to fit somebody else’s. It’s a recipe for disaster.”
“I’m not talking about a complete overhaul of my personality,” I say, even though some changes are definitely in order. I don’t say that to Law because he seems determined to talk me out of it. It’s nice of him, but let’s be realistic, the guy’s known me for a minute. He hasn’t seen all the annoying, uncool parts that have been packed into me and that have got to go.
The encounter with Falcon, and now sitting here with Law, only reinforces my realization that Project Hero needs a serious jolt to get started. Based on Falcon’s disbelief when he saw me with Law, I must be sidekickier than ever, and that will not fly. At all.
This is depressing, so I concentrate back on Law. “I figure, for starters, I need to do something about how I look.”
But then I shrug. I have had a thorough look-over already, so I doubt he’ll find anything new. The hair must go and the T-shirts must go and my comfy, comfy sweats must go. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
But Law surprises me. “What’s wrong with how you look?” he asks.
“I’m too sexy,” I deadpan. “People find it hard to resist me, which let me tell you, makes walking down the street a real challenge.”
“I feel for you,” Law says drily, but let’s face it, unlike me, for him that’s probably a real issue. A six-foot-three hockey god with a fit body, emerald-green eyes, and black hair isn’t exactly what most people consider repulsive.
It’s not that I walk around all day in despair about how I look. Frankly, it hardly ever crosses my mind, but the thing is, aside from getting Falcon’s attention, it has crossed my mind that I’ll be graduating sometime next year, which means I’ll either be going to grad school, or getting a job. Looking at myself right now, I highly doubt I’m what prospective employers look for. Not to mention the people at MIT.
The tough part about changing things about myself is that I’m so used to how I look and the things I wear that whenever I buy new clothes, I automatically gravitate toward what has made me feel comfortable so far. Hence the nerdy T-shirts, which I have worn practically my whole life. I don’t even own a suit.
I went to my sister’s wedding in clothes I borrowed from my brother. I’d left mentioning my lack of suit until the last possible moment, so there had been no time to buy anything. The fact that Ian is five inches taller and twenty pounds heavier didn’t help the look. Mom has placed the frame with that particular family picture so that the side where I am is strategically hidden behind a photograph of Mom and Dad after they went bungee jumping.
Project Hero Page 4
