Because I don’t know what to say, I grab my spoon and start shoveling chocolate ice cream into my mouth.
I am halfway finished with the contents of the bowl when I realize Jessamyn is staring at me as if she has never seen me before. “When,” she asks, “did you become a lefty?”
“What am I going to do?” I ask Delilah, pacing in front of my locker. “She knows I’m not her son. She wants me to go to California, for God’s sake. . . .” When Delilah doesn’t offer even a word of encouragement or support, I turn to her. “What’s wrong with you today, anyway?”
Delilah rubs her eyes. She looks like she’s been locked in a pirate’s brig all night, not that I’m going to tell her that. “I got, like, two hours of sleep,” she says. “Frump is refusing to eat kibble, which means I had to prepare a gourmet meal after my mom went to bed. And he snores. Like,superloud. And every time I tried to take the sheets away from him, he actuallykickedme.”
“Wait,what?” I say, my head snapping around. “He slept with you? In the same bed?”
“Yes. Just like Humphrey did. Remember? You’re not the only one with the hidden identity!”
“I’ve seen what you wear when you sleep.”
“He’s just an animal, Oliver!”
I grit my teeth. “Exactly.”
A grin breaks over Delilah’s face. “Someone’s jealous.” She leans closer to me. “And you know what else? I’ve seen him naked.”
I frown. “Not funny,” I say, slamming my locker. It’s been two days since Frump arrived. “Have you heard anything from Orville?”
“No. Frump and I opened the book last night, and he’s still working on a remedy.”
I consider this, and Delilah tilts her head. “What are you thinking?”
“That maybe we should fashion a pair of pants for Frump in the meantime.”
“I’m pretty sure my mom would notice,” Delilah says. “Honestly, Oliver? He’s really not my type.”
Only slightly mollified, I look down. “Then maybeyoucould wear pants to bed,” I suggest.
Delilah turns, about to lecture me, but she is interrupted by the arrival of Chris, who needs to get into his locker. “I’m so glad you guys are both here,” he says. “I need your advice.”
Chris looks at Delilah. “You know your friend Jules?”
“What about her?”
“I was kind of thinking of asking her out. . . .”
Delilah’s eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yeah, except for one thing. She scares the hell out of me.”
“Why?”
“Just yesterday,” Chris says, “I watched her make Mrs. Jacon cry in homeroom, telling her that by taking her new husband’s name she was a disappointment to the female sex.”
“Jules may be tough, but trust me, she has a soft side. She cried twice watchingTitanic.”
“I criedfourtimes,” Chris murmurs.
“Perhaps we should all go courting together.”
“Dude,” Chris says, “not all black people are into basketball—”
“He means a date,” Delilah explains, and I nod. A slow smile unfurls over her face. “So you finally want to take me out, huh?”
I shrug. “It seems fitting, since we’ve already gone to bed together.”
