But perhaps the thing that really makes my knees melt is Malik’s drive. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t spent a fair share of our AP Psych classes daydreaming about how we’d make the perfect power couple. Me on the six o’clock news and him running for local office. Or maybe even Congress or working as some kind of documentarian/philanthropist.
His leg brushes against mine as he reaches behind his chair to grab his textbook. “I think we’re doing that open-book quiz today.”
“Shoot,” I whisper before I can even dig through my bag. “I knew I was supposed to stop at my locker. You even mentioned it last night.”
He slides his book toward me. “We can share.”
I smile. There goes the fluttering again. “Okay. Thanks.”
I tear out a piece of notebook paper as Mr. Prater turns on his projector and lowers the lights. He plugs in the twinkly lights strung overhead. He hung them himself due to the lack of windows out here in the temporaries, whichmeans no natural light for note-taking while the projector is on.
I realize this wasn’t Mr. Prater’s intention, but it’s all sort of romantic. Sharing a book with Malik underneath the low lights as our thighs touch so frequently it’s more than an accident...
I have to force myself to concentrate on the quiz questions displayed on the slides, but it’s hard not to let this breathless feeling overtake me completely.
Is this what liking someone is supposed to feel like? Because if this is a crush, I don’t know if I can handle the intensity of actuallylovingsomeone. Or maybe thisislove. I don’t know. What I do know is that whatever I feel for Malik goes way beyond just friends.
That afternoon, Will and El are waiting in the courtyard with Tim and Bo. Amanda’s close on my heels as we make our way to their table.
“I don’t want to step on any toes,” I call out to them. “But this meeting is girls only.”
Tim shrugs, and Ellen gives him a quick kiss on the cheek with his face glued to his phone before he walks off toward the parking lot. “I’ll be at the car.”
“His latest obsession is that geocaching app with those little trolls and gnomes,” Ellen explains.
Bo gives me a quick nod. “Hey, Millie.” He turns to Willowdean. “I’ll pick you up for work if you want?”
“I think El and Tim are gonna drop me off actually, butI’ll take a ride home tonight,” she says, her golden curls tangling in the wind.
He nods before giving her a kiss on the lips and then jogs to catch up with Tim.
“Not a bad view,” says Amanda, watching him go.
El sputters with laughter, and Willowdean’s whole face looks like it’s about ready to catch fire. “Can’t say I disagree,” she finally says.
I smile. “Anyone seen Hannah?” I ask.
“I’m here,” someone groans.
I turn to find Hannah wearing a front baby sling with an anatomically correct baby in it. Her once-overgrown bangs have become swoopier than they were, so you can actually see her face. Her charcoal eyeliner is jagged and a little smudged, but the look works for her. Based on her medium brown skin, most people at school just call Hannah black or African American, but she actually prefers Afro-Latina. One of the ladies running the pageant told Hannah that was a mouthful when she included it in her pageant intro, but Hannah told her she should try harder. I tend to agree.
Of everyone from the pageant, I see Hannah the least. Not because I don’t want to, but because she goes out of her way to be unseen. Plus she has lots of slightly older friends who don’t even live in Clover City. Her elusiveness makes me want to try even harder to be friends with her.
“What the hell?” asks Will.
Hannah rolls her head back, stomping to the table where the rest of us sit. “I signed up for that life-skills classthinking it would be dumb stuff like online banking and applying for jobs, but no. It’s basically a home ec class.” She sits down and slams the doll on the table, triggering sobs from the speaker on the back of its head. “Our final,” she says, like we’re gathered around a campfire telling horror stories, “is a casserole.”
Ellen, Amanda, and Will nearly fall out of their seats in hysterics, and I bite my lip, trying not to laugh along with them.
Hannah gives them all a half-baked dirty look, but it’s the best she can do not to smile herself.
“I’ll dig through my mom’s recipe book if it’ll help,” I offer.
She turns to me. “If you really want to help, you’ll make the damn thing for me.”
Willowdean nudges me with her elbow. “So what’s all this about? Did you gather us all here to corrupt another time-honored Clover City tradition?”
They go quickly silent with all eyes on me. Suddenly I feel very, very dumb. Self-doubt washes over me, and I am immediately positive that I like all of them much more than any of them like me. That’s just the worst feeling. It’s like showing up to a costume party where you’re the only one who dressed up.
