Page 4

“OK, so, this is the cafeteria and senior lockers. Across from that are the auto and woodworking shops, then down past there is the gym, and some washrooms.”

Arlo didn’t seem to need to breathe as he bounced ahead of them, weaving his way through the hoard of people. Bren didn’t know what he was more impressed by—the size of the school, or the way Arlo wasn’t even a tiny bit fazed by it all.

“The cafeteria hasn’t been good since grade nine, though. There was some kind of healthy eating initiative or something, and we lost our fries, walking tacos, anything on white bread.”

“What the fuck’s a walkin’ taco?”

“Oh!” Arlo spun around and waited as a girl weaved between them to get to her locker. “You’re going to have to cool it on the swearing at school. Most of the teachers are going to have zero chill about it.”

“Alright. What the bejeezus is a walkin’ taco then?”

Nat made a sound like she’d heard a toddler say something twee and whispered to Yu. Yu snickered and elbowed her in the side, and they tried not to laugh.

“Uh, I say somethin’ funny?”

They snickered harder.

“No, no—I’m sorry.” She said sorry in that same two-syllable Canadian way Arlo did. “I just—I really like your accent.”

Nat looked at Yu and the two of them burst into laughter again.

Arlo frowned but leaned in without a word, and he let Nat whisper something in his ear. A streak of pink appeared across the bridge of his nose and he pushed her away.

“Alright, someone wanna let me in on the joke, like?”

Arlo turned a deeper shade of red and shook his head.

“She was just being gross. And a walking taco is meat and taco stuff in a bag of Doritos, which is apparently poison or something.”

Bren recognized the move to change the subject and decided to let it lie for now.

“Sorry! I really do like your accent,” Nat said as they turned back to the main entrance.

“Piss off,” Bren said, trying not to roll his eyes too hard.

He was worried for a second that she’d taken him seriously from the look on her face. In the end, she laughed about it as another classmate hurried past, so close Nat had to take a step to avoid getting run over.

“How many people go here?”

“Uh, about eight hundred usually, I think,” Arlo said.

He reached over and gave Bren’s hand a squeeze. He squeezed back and Nat cooed.

“So, the other sort of shoppy classes are way on the other side of the school,” Arlo said, gesturing away from the cafeteria. “There’s electronics and welding on this floor. Then computer classes on the second floor above that, then foods and sewing on the floor above that. Wait—what classes are you taking?”

Arlo spun around mid-step, and Bren unzipped his bookbag to pull out his crumpled timetable.

“When were you gonna tell me you know how to weld?” Bren asked as he passed the paper over.

A part of him was still annoyed that he wasn’t allowed to take that one, but thought it was probably for the best at the end of the day. Irish Idiot Burns Down Boyfriend’s School, Flees Country, wasn’t a headline he wanted set to his name.

“Oh, yeah. That’s, like, the one butch class I take. Blame Yu.”

Arlo was laughing like it was no big deal, but Bren was sure a shadow of pride flickered across his face.

“We both took it in grade nine,” Yu said. “It’s where I realized A.J. wasn’t just the weird quiet kid.”

“Nope, I was the weird quiet kid who could melt stuff together. Much better. Yes! We’ve got the same free period, and Foods! Brothers in flour ride again—”