“Okay, okay, okay,” I say, waving his hands away and letting my shoulders droop myself.
“Let’s play,” Ruby interrupts. I shoot her an apologetic smile. She must be bored, sitting there, listening to Noah and I chat.
“Are you joining, Noah?” I ask.
He looks at the table, then and at Ruby, who’s sorting her cards so roughly, she almost bends them.
“Maybe another time. I better join the others. But I’ll play you one day.”
I smile. “Alright, see you.”
I pick up my cards and turn back to Ruby. I expect her to waggle her brows, but Ruby begins the game without preamble, her voice robotic.
14
Noah: You're Alright
During English, our teacher drones on about a future assessment. We have to write an essay onMacbethin a double period. I don’t know the rest of the details, because once the teacher gave us the main details, Eve agreed to talk to me about the Jealousy Pact.
“I think it’s going well,” I say. It’s been more than a week since we began and everyone in the year level has noticed, and people say nice things about Eve to me, even when Eve isn’t there. Days ago, Declan jostled me and asked if I was sleeping with Eve, to which I said “no, absolutely not.” The more I denied it, the more Declan smiled knowingly.
Which is weird. But also what we want.
“I guess,” Eve says. While she finds the attention strange, she’s getting used to it, becoming more friendly and chatty. “Henry’s polite to me.”
He is, which makes me feel a little guilty about all the anger I direct towards Alison in my head. It’s not her fault she likes Henry.
“Do you think that means he’s jealous or not jealous?”
She shrugs. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
Henry and I haven’t talked about Eve at all. He’s never brought it up, so I haven’t either. In fact, we’re back to normal. The awkwardness that lingered after the pool house has faded away. The other day, we were the only ones left in the change rooms, putting on our P.E. uniforms, and he pecked me on the lips.
“What about Oliver?” I ask. “Have you talked much?”
Eve shrugs. “A little. He seems normal.”
“Hmm—”
“Noah Rosselli.” The teacher’s sharp voice slices through our conversation. “Are you listening?”
Everyone whirls around to look at us. “Yes,” I answer.
“When are we having our Macbeth assessment?”
“Um …” I glance down at what I wrote in my school diary. “Next Monday.”
“Hmph,” the teacher says, before continuing her pacing at the front of the classroom as she chats about Macbeth.
I side-eye Eve. “You’re a bad influence on me.”
“On you!” She knocks my shoulder with a laugh, and the two of us earn another dirty look from the teacher.
Eve puffs beside me, breath heavy. I slow down the pace of my jog, despite already running far slower than my usual pace. Eve catches up, swinging her arms beside her. She’s wearing gym clothes and a Nike headband I lent her to push her hair back. When I offered it to her at our usual meeting spot on the lake, her brows rose.
“That doesn’t have your sweat on it, does it?” she asked.
