“Of course.” I nodded. “Bunches of times.” Then something compelled me to add, “But they’re little kid books. I read other stuff too.”
“Well, I don’t think they’re kid books,” Molly said, unwrapping her sandwich. “And neither does my brother.”
I paused in the act of opening my juice box. “Your brother? Jamie?”
She tilted her head to one side. “I only have one brother.”
“Oh.” I shook my head. “I know. I just meant I didn’t think he liked to read. EspeciallyHarry Potter.”
Molly frowned. “Why would you say that?”
“Well, because he’s, you know…” I waved my hand, trying to encompass all that Jamie Burke was. Freakishly tall. Smiley. Popular with guys and girls alike. “Good at baseball.”
Molly laughed, and her eyes crinkled up at the sides, just like Jamie’s did. “And people can only be good at one thing? Or like one thing?”
“No.” My face flamed, and I squeezed my juice box so hard it shot fruit punch all over my brand-new polo shirt.
I darted a glance toward the older boys. Jamie was as easy to pick out of the crowd as a tree in a meadow. He had a mop of wiry, red-brown hair, eyes that were nearly the same warm, cinnamon color, and a kind of red-gold tinge to his skin, no matter the season. Plus, he was nearly a head taller than everyone else on the playground, which meant he was like five heads taller thanme. My dad, who always insisted on us staying and watching the older kids’ baseball games after my game was over because it was supposed to inspire me or something, had said Jamie Burke hadfilled out earlyand thathis stature combined with his natural talent meant he was gonna do great things someday.
I hated Jamie Burke a little.
“I mean, you play baseball too, right?” Molly continued, like this proved her point.
I turned away from Jamie to look at her. “Oh, I play. I’m not any good though. Mostly, I stand in one spot and pray the ball never comes in my direction.” Dex said I threw like a girl, but that was bullshit because Grace and Mariely threw better than I ever had.
I opened my potato chips and offered them to Molly.
She smiled as she took one. “You could ask Jamie for help, I bet. He’d, like, coach you or whatever. He’s really patient.” She leaned across the table confidingly and added, “Pretty sure he’s a Hufflepuff.”
I laughed out loud. Ireadfantasy, but I didn’tbelievein it. There was no realm in which I would consider asking Jamie Burke—the best ball player in ninth grade—to help my scrawny self, even if he was aHarry Potterfan.
Death first.
“You’re sweet, Molly,” I began.
“Well, shit, Parkie!” said a voice from behind me. “Look at you flirting with a girl. I didn’t think you knew how.”
I rolled my eyes and sat up straighter.
“Go away, Dexter,” Molly said. “Nobody was talking to you.”
Dexter sat down beside Molly, forcing her to scoot over.
Pete Daley, the shortest kid in school, took a seat on her other side so she was stuck in place, and grabbed my chips from the center of the table. “Oooh, fancy chips.” He stuffed a handful in his mouth. “Parkie’s mom buys the good shit.”
Mike Morris, the third member of their troupe, sat down next to me and grinned.
I gritted my teeth.
Don’t engage with the bullies, and they’ll leave you alone, Parker, my mom always said but that was bullshit. I wondered if there were a point in human history when that strategy had ever really worked or if it was just some line they taught in a parenting books. Either way, I’d never onceengagedwith Dex, but he’d still picked on me constantly for years, just because my hair was too tidy, or my grades were too good, or my jackets were too expensive or, well, because I couldn’t throw a baseball for shit.
Though maybe I deserved that last one.
“Come on, Molly,” I said, grabbing my backpack and pushing to my feet. “It’s getting crowded here.”
Molly tried to get up, but Dex draped an arm over her shoulders.
“You go on, loser,” he said. “Molly would rather hang with us.”
