Oh
You’re with them now?
Yeah
Sorry for interrupting
See you Monday!
I shrug. He wasn’t interrupting much. AP Chem kind of sucks. I turn back to my work, but Bowie flaps their hand.
“I didn’t know you texted Liam,” they sign.
“I guess he got my number off the Theatre Board.”
Bowie studies me for a long moment.
“What?”
“Nothing.” They press their lips together—the aquamarine really does look good on them—and blow out a long breath. “He’s been talking about trying out for a while. Didn’t think he’d get a lead on his first try.”
“He was amazing. You should’ve seen him.”
“Yeah?”
I nod, but Bowie’s got a weird smile.
“What?”
“Do you like him?”
“Yeah, he’s fine.”
“Jacks.”
“Just as a friend.”
No way am I crushing on another boy that won’t like me back. All signs indicate he’s straight, anyway. And if Jasmine likes him? No way.
Bowie’s face scrunches up. “Well, look out for him, okay? He’s not used to Theatre Kids.”
“Hey! I’m a Theatre Kid!”
“You know what I mean. Now come on.” They throw a Twizzler at my nose. “Finish up so we can playSmash.”
“You’re going down.”
7
When we pull into our spot Monday morning, Jasmine flips down her sun visor and examines her face in the mirror, licking her finger and smoothing down her eyebrows. We both got Dad’s thick, dark eyebrows, and Jasmine inherited a teeny bit of Dad’s unibrow too. She’s super self-conscious about it, and gets it threaded once a month.
My sister’s beautiful, though, unibrow or not. She’s got more makeup on than usual for a Monday, foundation and lipstick and some concealer on the pimple in the fold of her nose. I hate when I get one there.
She’s dressed up too, in a pink blouse and jeans, with her hair down in loose waves, like she’s trying to impressLiamsomeone.
I grab my backpack and the shmoodies, hooking my fingers through the plastic loops on the lids. The cold bottles smack against each other as I shut the door.
Jasmine jogs to get in front of me. “Who’s the extra for?”
