We’re decompressing in Lin’s room, and I’m painting my toes a bright shade of yellow I bought only because it was calledPineapple Paradise.
“David was brilliant, of course.” Lin swipes a splash of coral polish on her pinky. She was at another mock decathlon competition this morning to prepare for the real one in January—the first one of the year. “But I kept second-guessing myself. I felt so dumb. Also, Breck sort of killed it? Especially with the science questions.”
I hold my foot carefully over my paper towel. Her room looks more like a hotel than a teenage haven. She has thick, navy curtains that match her bedspread, which is tucked and smoothed over so tightly someone could probably suffocate under there. There is nothing on her desk aside from a lamp with a depressing gray lampshade. Her mom makes her keep all her textbooks in her closet to keep her room from looking disorderly. She’d probably have an aneurysm if she came in here and saw us with the nail polish.
“First of all, you’re not dumb,” I tell her, because it’s the truth. She’s in the top twenty percent of our class. “Try and let go of your nervousness, you know? You’ll be more confident next time.”
“True. I’m always nervous when we first start practicing.” She caps the coral polish. “God, I’m starving. I want pizza rolls. And a Slurpee.”
Lin’s parents don’t believe in junk food. Their pantry is always stocked with healthy snacks like mixed nuts and dried seaweed. It’s one of the reasons she hates having sleepovers at her place. That, and we’re not allowed to leave the house after ten.
It’s ten thirty now.
“Let’s go to 7-Eleven,” I say. “Stock up.”
She checks her phone. “Yeah, right. They won’t let us leave.”
I stare at her. “But if they don’t know we’re gone—?”
“Sneak out?” She looks uneasy. “Really? For food?”
“They’ll never know. We’ll make it a ninja mission.”
She laughs. “Some girls sneak out to go to parties, and we’re sneaking out to get snacks.”
We wait until our nails dry. I use her laptop and open iTunes, then I click the first artist and let it play on low. Too much quiet will make them suspicious, so I set it close to the door. They hardly ever come in to check on us, which is why I think Lin is okay with this plan.
I pull on my black sweatshirt and zip it up to my chin, then I yank the hood over my head. “Ready?”
“Out the window?” She says it like we’ll be scaling a fourteen-story building.
“You’re on the first floor!”
“There’s still adrop.”
“Oh my god. It’s like, two feet.”
I climb out first. She follows. Five minutes later, we’re giggling like five-year-olds as we sprint down the sidewalk and around the corner out of her neighborhood.
“I’ve never done that before!”
Laughter bursts from my lungs. “We should really get you out more.”
It’s a perfect autumn evening. There’s a crisp chill in the air and even though it’s dark, the streetlights illuminate the fact that the oak trees around us are changing colors. It’s funny—autumn used to be my least favorite season. Now I’m finding I don’t mind it.
The door to 7-Eleven chimes when we walk in. I breathe in the sticky scent of artificial syrup and leftover glazed donuts. Lin walks toward the back to grab a Slurpee. I’m about to make my way toward the candy aisle when I hear someone call my name.
I freeze.
Oh no.
No no no no no.
I turn and face the register, but I already know who’s standing behind it. Saylor. He’s wearing his starchy uniform shirt and plastic name badge. And waving. Enthusiastically. In my direction.
I give a pathetic half wave before ducking into the candy aisle.
Crap. How could I be so careless? OfcourseSaylor is working tonight. He works almost every night shift.
