I must say, the picture I create is really a masterpiece. There’s a silhouette of a fire-breathing dragon, and a swashbuckling prince holding his sword aloft.
“Put down your pencils,” Mr. Elyk says. I glance at Raj. He seems to have forgotten how to blink.
“Now we will begin the next section,” the teacher reads.
I pick up my pencil, delighted. I think this time, I’ll draw a castle.
On Mondays during Activity Period, I drop Delilah off at the school library, where she works shelving books. We move through the halls holding hands, which seems rather tame when compared to couples like BrAngelo, who are basically mating as they navigate the building, blindly slamming into lockers and terrified freshmen.
The buzz that morning in school is still about the dreadedSAT test. “It wasn’t that bad,” I tell Delilah. “I don’t want to brag, but my dragon was rather creative.”
“Is that a metaphor?”
“No. I drew a dragon. Literally.”
She bursts out laughing. “The guidance counselors are going to have you committed.” Delilah releases my hand and links her arm through mine instead, hugging me closer. “So I was thinking . . . you and I have never been on a real date.”
“We’ve had supper with your mother.”
“That does not even begin to count.”
“Then what did you have in mind?” I ask.
“Well.” Delilah looks up at me; it’s like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “I thought maybe—”
“Yo, Edgar,” I hear, and I turn around to see the captain of the school hockey team passing by. He fist-bumps me over Delilah’s head. “Hey, thanks for the help in English. I totally passed the test.”
“Anytime!” I say, and turn back to Delilah. “You were saying?”
“I was thinking we could go out to a restaurant, like—”
Suddenly James appears in front of us. “You coming to Friday’s meeting, Edgar?”
I nod. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’m bringing the snack.”
“Awesome,” James says, and at the last minute, acknowledges Delilah. “Hey,” he says, nodding before he walks past.
Delilah’s grip tightens on my arm. “Anyway.” She exhales. “I was thinking maybe you’d like to try Chinese food—”
“EDGAR!” A gaggle of girls surrounds me, pecking at melike chickens with their questions.Did you do the history reading? Should I get a pixie cut? Can you show me how to throw a Frisbee sometime? Is it true that you went to camp with Harry Styles?
I can feel Delilah’s nail dig into my skin. “Girls,” I say. “I’ll catch up with you later.” Then I turn the full force of my charm on Delilah. “Where were we?”
“Iwas making dinner plans,” she answers, her voice tight. “Youwere signing autographs.”
I watch her turn into the library, completely confounded. The problem is that Delilah brought me into her world. But now it’s mine too.
At Ms. Pingree’s urging, I’ve joined the drama club. They meet during Activity Period as well, in the school auditorium. Every week, we act out scenes from different plays. Last Monday, it was Tennessee Williams. This time, it’s Shakespeare.
I must admit, Shakespeare is a more comfortable fit for me.
“Now,Romeo and Julietis something you all should be able to relate to: two teenagers who can’t keep their hands off each other, even though circumstances are forcing them apart. Edgar,” Ms. Pingree says, “would you like to take the reins as Romeo today?”
This is not a surprise. I’m the only male in the drama club. “It would be my greatest pleasure,” I say, and Ms. Pingree’s hand goes to her heart.
“Now. Who shall be our tragic Juliet?”
The hands of the fifteen girls in the room shoot up. “Claire, dear.” Ms. Pingree points. “How about you?”
