“I don’t understand why you’re not telling me that I’m losingit.” I lean forward and whisper, “I think I might be losingit.”
“I’m not ruling it out, but I like to keep an open mind.”
Martin’s open-mindedness is actually one of my favorite things about him. I still remember the first time I needed to tell him to check his (white) privilege. He wasn’t defensive. He just listened and learned.
If I told Cassidy (other best friend forever) about the vision, she would try to have me committed to a very expensive and upscale mental institution. Sophie (my other other best friend forever) would explain to me all the scientific reasons why what I’m saying is not possible. But for Martin, no idea is too outlandish to consider.
“Has it happened with anyone else?”
“No.”
“So you’re not seeing my romantic past and future right now?” he asks with an eyebrow waggle.
“Not possible, seeing as how you have neither,” I say, grinning at him.
He smiles at me and flips me off at the same time.
“How about we do an experiment,” he says after a while. “Maybe it only works on couples.”
“What are you saying? I should stare at people?”
“How else are we going to figure out what’s happening withyou?”
“Fine,” I say.
I scan the room. Shelley and Sheldon are sitting two tables over. Their coupledom is legendary. At first it was because of their ridiculously similar names. But now it’s because of their longevity. They’ve been together for three years, since Shelley was a sophomore and Sheldon was a freshman. Every year, they get voted Couple Most Likely to Get Married.
I watch them for a good thirty seconds before looking back at Martin. “Nothing,” I say.
He points to Dwight and Joel sitting by the windows. “How about them?”
I creepy-stare at them before turning back to Martin. “Nope,” I say.
I try a few more times with other couples, but nothing happens. I look down at my mashed potatoes and carve little gravy rivulets with my fork. “I really am losing it,” I say without looking up.
“My mom would say you have a lot going on. Your parents got divorced, and you found out your dad cheated, and you moved away from the house you grew up in, and it’s second semester senior year. She’d say stress is a killer.”
Martin’s mom is a psychiatrist. She’d definitely say all that before launching into her speech about how weekly therapy sessions should be required for everyone, but most especially for middle and high school students.
“And your mom still won’t talk about anything?” he asks.
“She doesn’t think there’s anything to talk about. Danica too. I’m the only one who’s still stuck,” I say. I don’t expect to cry, but tears are suddenly burning behind my eyes.
Martin hands me a napkin before I can even look for one. I dab my eyes quickly, not wanting anyone to see.
My eyes drift back to Shelley and Sheldon. They’re sitting side by side now, still making moony faces at each other. Shelley leans into Sheldon, pressing her shoulder into his. He throws his arm around her and they kiss.
And I see.
CHAPTER 7
Shelley and Sheldon
A SUNNY MORNINGin Mr. Armstrong’s US History classroom. He’s stalking the aisle, looking for cheaters. As soon as his back is turned, Sheldon hands Shelley a note. Shelley opens it and giggles. The note reads:
Would you like to go out with me?
? YES!
