“Thissucks. I stopped by the Pick Up the Park sign-up sheet and onlyfivepeople have signed up so far! Five!”
Alex shuts his locker, then turns toward us. “I don’t want to tell you how to run things.” Lin looks over at him, a curious expression on her face. “But maybe next time schedule the cleanup on a Saturday? Most people have things going on after school.”
Lin’s eyes widen, like she can’t believe she didn’t think of that. “Oh! You’re so right. I need to tell Andrea.” She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “But you’re still coming, right?” She looks at Alex. “And you, too? I saw your name on the list, I think.”
“Yeah,” Alex tells her. “I need volunteer hours.”
“Awesome.” She turns to me. “See you at lunch!”
I watch as she practically skips down the hall. “You just made her entire morning.”
His eyes light up when he looks at me. “Did I?”
I pull a cheesy grin. “There’s a heart of gold beneath that rebellious spirit.”
Alex cringes, then yanks his beanie down over his eyes. “I can’t even look at you right now. That was awful—like a really bad movie tagline.”
I snort out a laugh. “What? You mean you wouldn’t go see it?” I pretend to think about it. “Maybe I can make a career out of this.”
Alex unveils his eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but no.”
“Oh! What about this,braving true triumph is the key to her heart.”
“God, no.”
“The ultimate courage requires the ultimate sacrifice.”
“I think these are actually causing me physical pain.”
I forgot how easy it is to talk with him. If he’s still upset about my non-response to his text all those months ago, I can’t tell. I know I need to talk to him about it, but the next words out of my mouth aren’t a confrontation.
“You’re here early.”
Alex gives me a questioning look.
“I mean, Raegan says you’re usually late to homeroom.”
He studies me for a moment, a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips. “Yeah, I guess I am. My mom didn’t need help in the kitchen this morning.”
“Did you tell her both me and my stomach greatly thanked her for the pan dulce?”
“Yeah, she was stoked.” He grins. “I also told her how much you loved the Pulparindo.”
“Love is a strong word, frankly. It’s a solid B-plus.”
“Your tastes just aren’t as refined as mine.”
The warning bell rings. I glance at the clock to make sure it’s right. It’s unlike me to lose track of time.
I look at him. “I better get to homeroom.”
“Me too,” he says. “You know, to surprise Raegan with my ability to be on time.”
With a quick wave, he departs down the hall. I watch him for a moment. He didn’t have to write that stuff on the board during Radical Races, but he did. There’s a part of me that’s glad for the familiar comfort of his friendship, but there’s an even bigger part of me that feels like I don’t deserve it.
“Can anyone tell me the nickname of Roosevelt’s political advisors?”
I’m sitting in AP History armed with two pens. I use the blue one every time Mr. Densick mentions something that could be on the AP exam, and my black one scribbles the notes that will be covered on our first exam. If I’d known this class would give me early onset carpal tunnel syndrome, I’d have seriously reconsidered.
