New year. New semester. New you.
That’s what’s running through your mind as Marshall pulls into the student parking lot.
Everything is going to be better now.
Granted, the end of last semester isn’t hard to beat.
Everyone thought you wrote that word on the RC board before Thanksgiving break.
You didn’t. Obviously. You and Brody were long gone from school. You were at his house, and he was making you binge a bunch of oldStar Warscartoons you didn’t even know existed.
That didn’t stop the rumors flying when you got back from break. Or Dr. Matthews interrogating you in his office until he got hold of Brody’s mom, who confirmed your alibi.
You’re not proud of it, but your first thought was that Reggie had done it. You don’t know why. But you didn’t tell anyone. You weren’t going to go throwing around accusations.
You’re not that kind of guy.
And you’re not the kind of guy who writes slurs on whiteboards, either.
You’re not.
As you hoist your backpack, you spot Brody waiting for you bythe doors and give him a wave. He’s actually wearing pants today. Probably because the wind chill is below zero.
And he’s wearing the ugly sweater you got him for Christmas.
In years past, you and the boys used to have a big Christmas bash, stay up too late, eat too many cookies, and exchange presents you saved your allowances up for.
There was no Christmas with the boys this year, but there was Christmas with Brody, which was nearly as good.
“Is Brody wearing that sweater you bought?” Marshall asks.
You crack a grin. It was calling your name at the store. Well, Brody’s name. Brody laughed when he opened it, pulled it on right away.
“It’s hideous, right?”
Marshall nods, but bites his lip.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “I just liked your old friends is all.”
“Cooper and Tyler? The ones who ditched me?”
“That wasn’t cool of them. But…” He gives a look toward Brody. “You know, Coach Strickland said we’re all just combinations of the five people we hang out with the most. Is he really who you want to hang out with the most?”
“Brody’s a good guy,” you say. “He’s my best friend. What’s your problem?”
Marshall shrugs. “Forget it.”
“He’s a good guy,” you say again as you trudge through the slushy parking lot.
Your brother only sees Brody’s mischief. The times he goes too far, jokes too hard, gets ISS. He doesn’t see Brody’s kind side.The side that patiently waits while you pick fragrances. The side that geeks out overStar Warsnovels. The side that always has your back.
Brody’s a good guy.
If Brody’s not, then you’re not, either.
“Wer ist gut in Deutsch?” Frau asks as you get ready for a quiz. You’re one of the few people to raise your hands. Beinggut in Deutschis this thing Frau does where you basically bet on yourself that you can get 100 percent on the quiz, and if you do, you get bonus points, orPluspunkte. But if you don’t, you lose a letter grade on the quiz. You’re not sure if that counts as gambling, or if it’s her way of challenging you to build confidence in your German skills. But whatever it is, it’s working. German’s the only class you have an A-plus in.
