A yawn saved me from answering.
“Are you even awake?” she asked.
“Barely.” I blinked a couple times. We started jogging around Portnoy Circle, toward Darby Road. “I only got three hours of sleep.”
“And why’s that?”
I didn’t answer right away, not sure I wanted to tell her. But then I swallowed hard and mumbled, “Dove asked me to her date party.”
Sage laughed. “Oh my god, why? That’s ridiculous!Youdumpedher.Not the other way around. No offense, but why would she ever ask you?”
I sighed. “Because remember what I said when I broke up with her? I really like you, but I don’t think we should be together…”
“Right now,” she finished. The series of Valentine’s Day date parties were staggered between now and the actual holiday, and Hardcastle was kicking things off this weekend. Dove had found me after hockey yesterday, carrying a box of macarons from Pandora’s, and I hadn’t really comprehended what was happening at first. Practice had been seriously grueling, and all I wanted to do was tangle myself with Luke and watchSurvivor.But the vision vanished when Dove smiled sweetly and held out the macarons. “Will you be my plus one?” she’d asked.
“Exactly,” I told Sage.
She sighed. “That was such a stupid idea, Charlie.”
“Very half-baked,” I agreed.
“Well,” Sage said, “that sucks, but at least she got the message when you said no.”
My stomach churned as she and I made eye contact.
She shoved me. “Charles Christopher Carmichael,pleasetell me you turned her down. Tell me you didn’t say yes.”
I was quiet.
Another shove. “What the fuck, Charlie?”
“Hey, I didn’t really have a choice.” I picked up my pace. Sage did too. “I mean, what was I supposed to do? Nobody says no to these things. You get invited, yougo.”
“Yeah, but you have a boyfriend.” Sage’s brows were furrowed. “What happens when she starts flirting?”
“Then it’ll be one-sided,” I said. “I told her it would just be as friends.”
She gave me a look. “You should’ve asked Luke first.”
I stared straight ahead, clenched. “I know.”
“Have you told him?”
“Not yet.” I shook my head. “Later today.”
“Okay, good.”
“Yeah, everything will be fine.” I nodded, hoping she didn’t catch the hitch in my voice. “He’ll understand.”
Sage bit her lip. “Fingers crossed.”
It stayed warm the rest of the week, so everyone started dressing like it was Red Hot American Summer. Reese wasn’t impressed as we walked to Friday’s school meeting, passing guys in shorts and pastel polos and girls in short dresses and flip-flops. “Just because the temperature goes up,” she muttered, “doesn’t mean you should dress out ofseason.”
Ten minutes later, I was reviewing my notes for the meeting (as student council’s Arts Representative, I had to go over the logistics for Bexley’s Winter Dance Expo, its performances next week) when Nick sat down next to me in his PAC seat. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Good,” he said. “I visited the mail room.”
I put down my notes. “And…?”
