Olivia is ignoring me, and Taylor. She’s just casually making her salad, seemingly immune to the hysteria she’s causing around her. At least she solved the problem of waiting in line.
I turn around and head toward the vending machines, where I pass Brittany Fesner, who everyone calls Brittany Fester because she’s always had the most horrible skin. I think Charlie came up with that in junior high. I really hope Brittany doesn’t know.
Brittany half waves at me, and I half wave back, and then I feed some dollars into the machine and stand around as San Pellegrino bottles dislodge and land with athump. I pull them out and try to balance them in my arms, but there are six of them and they keep sliding.
“You need some help, Rosaline?” I spin around, and the bottles scatter to the floor. They’re plastic, so they don’t break, but I’m still annoyed. I bend down to pick them up and squint upward to see who is talking to me. It’s Len, of course, and he’s got that stupid smirk on.
“Is it your goal to just make life miserable?”
“I make your life miserable?” He puts his hand over his heart. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be.”
“It’s the first day of school, Rosaline. Whatever happened to a fresh start?”
“I’m not trying to start with you, Len.”
He bends down and picks up a sparkling water, lining it up next to two others like little toy soldiers. “Why are you so hostile? Is it because you’re not getting any from that boyfriend of yours?”
In a flurry of revolt my face flushes red. “Boyfriend?”
“You two seem totally sexually frustrated.”
“Rob is not my boyfriend.”
“So what’s with the puppy-dog looks you two are constantly exchanging?”
He picks up another bottle and tosses it into the air, then catches it and hands it to me. His thumb is covering the label, and I notice his skin is red. Crimson, actually. A mark like spilled paint runs from his thumb up to his wrist and then disappears under his shirtsleeve. I don’t remember ever seeing it before. He has a folder tucked underneath his arm.
“What’s that?” I ask. Less because I care and more because I think he just caught me staring at his thumb.
He looks amused. “What?”
“The folder?”
“Grass,” he says, shrugging.
“Grass?”
“Project for bio at the Cliffs,” he says. “It’s due the first of the year, so it’s not exactly a priority.”
“The Cliffs?” Immediately my mind flips to Rob. The Cliffs have always been our go-to place.
Len eyes me. “Do you run there or something?”
I shake my head, pushing Rob out. “What? No. I’m just shocked you’d do any work of your own accord.”
“Bravo,” he deadpans. “Senior year Rosaline has some spunk.”
I take three of the bottles by their tops and stick the others against my chest. Olivia is waving to me from the doorway, informing me that she’s going back outside.
“Excuse me,” I say.
He moves to the side, letting me pass. “Great doing business with you, Rosaline.”
I teeter outside and follow Olivia back into the courtyard, where I dump the San Pellegrino bottles onto the table. “You guys so owe me,” I say. “I’m going to need physical therapy from that. Regular therapy too.”
“Poor baby,” Charlie says, sticking out her lower lip.
