I give her my best conspiratorial grin. “Twenty minutes until you’ve gotta quit Newspaper Clubforever.”
Oliver jolts upright, concern flashing in his eyes as he looks to Sara. “What?”
Sara grabs her head between her palms, clearly in distress about this. “Agh, I lost track of time!”
Tammy clears her throat, startling me all over again. I already forgot she was standing behind me.
“Well, if you need to go, maybe Patrick and I can stay here and tend the booth for you guys?”Tammy suggests.
Relief floods Sara’s face. “That would be amazing—thank you, Tammy.”
As she’s pulling on her cardigan, I narrow my eyes at her. “Just give up, Sara. It’s too late. How are you even going to find them? This field is huge. Vicky and I didn’t even make it to all the booths.”
“It’s not too late,” she snaps, frustrated. “I have twenty minutes.”
An annoyed ache spreads through my chest. I fiddle with the strap of my sling, which is folded over my jean jacket like a seat belt.
I’m conflicted. Sure, I want Sara to win the bet so she can stay in Newspaper Club, but I’m jealous she’s about to get her first kiss from Joe. Ugh! I don’t even want to imagine it.
“Then hurry up and go,” I mumble under my breath.
“Twenty minutes for what?” Oliver asks, coming around to Sara’s side. “Did you two make another stupid bet?”
Sara blushes. “Uh, maybe?”
Oliver pulls on his jacket. “Fine. I’ll help you. Let’s go.”
“Oh—you don’t have to! It’s okay, really,” Sara argues, but Oliver’s already placed two hands on her back, gently guiding her away from the booth.
“Nineteen minutes,” Oliver warns, like he’s Father Time himself. “For whatever it is you have to do. So let’s go.”
Sara throws me a helpless look over her shoulder as they take off, but what does she expect me to do? Tammy already volunteered us to stay.
Speaking of, Tammy slips into the empty seat next to me. Her signature pigtails hang over her cashmere sweater, and she stares at me from behind her round glasses.
I slap a hand to my forehead, suddenly frustrated. “Dang it, if she can’t find him, she’s gonna lose again and it’ll be all my fault,” I moan. “Why did I agree to this?”
Tammy fixes me with a sympathetic look. “What’s the bet about?”
“She has to kiss someone by the end of the festival, so now she’s going to find my arch nemesis Joseph L. Yang.” I hinge over the table, clutching my head with my good arm, then add, “TheLstands for loser.”
“Oh,” Tammy says, voice quiet.
“She’s probably going to get rejected by him,” I go on. “And I still can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Probably bad, right? Ugh, yeah. I know. I’m so stupid. Why would I bet her to kiss someone else if I like her? I mean, if she wanted to get her first kiss over with so badly, I should have just bet her to kissme.”
Tammy gasps and throws her hand over her mouth. “Patrick!”
“I mean—I don’t know what I’m saying. I can’t think when I’m in pain,” I say, face flaming.
Argh, why did I just say all that to Tammy? What if she tells Sara?
After a long pause, Tammy says, “Patrick, if you like her so much, shouldn’t you go and stop her?”
Do I like her? Those words slid from my mouth so easily, which has to meansomething. Right? Joe’s a great guy, but when I picture Sara with a boyfriend it’s . . .
Me.
But do I want to ruin what we have? What does it mean for our friendship?
