Beast(11)

“Me too,” she says. “I thought you were older.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“You’re so big—how tall are you?”

“Is this what you really want to talk about?”

“I just…I’m tall too.” She looks away.

“You want to go first?” I ask. She’s probably done this a billion times already; she might as well.

“Sure,” she says, and takes a breath. “Five good things about me are…um…Okay, one: I helped my mom make breakfast and when I could’ve said something that would’ve set her off, I held my tongue. That was hard, but I did it. Two: I’m transferring schools—finally! Three: my dad said I looked nice today. That was amazing. Um. Four, hmmm…Okay, four: I saw a shooting star last night and I made a wish—”

“Did you wish for fascinating things to say?” I interrupt her with a joke.

Her face falls. “Excuse me?”

I wince. Too far. “I was only, um. I don’t know.”

“You’re lucky I’m forced to talk to you right now. Why would you make fun of someone’s wish? Do you know how many shooting stars I’ve seen in my life? One. And you just shat all over it.”

I hang my head and smooth my furry knuckles with my thumb. “What was your wish?”

“Like I’ll ever tell you.”

“I’ll tell you one of mine?”

She peeks over at me, waiting for my confession or something. I don’t know what to say; I never tell anyone this type of stuff. Like JP would give a shit about what I wish for? He’d just try to buy it for me, but what I want can’t be bought. I think of a safe one. A wish I’m pretty sure everyone’s had at least once. Or for me, a minimum of fifty thousand times. “I wish that I could wake up and not be me. Just for a day.”

Jamie perks up. “Like in what way?”

Um, the f*cking obvious ogre way? “My exterior.”

She sits tall and nods. “Right. Sure, yeah. The packaging, I get it.”

Of course she does. She has two working eyes and they are looking at me.

Jamie reaches into her bag and fidgets around, pulling out a camera. “The fifth thing I was going to say was I’m really good at photography. Maybe if I took some pictures of you so you could see how the light—”

“I hate cameras.”

“Oh.” She sinks her camera back into her bag.

“I mean, if you like it, that’s cool. I don’t.”

“Do you know anything about photography?”

“Pictures are cool.”

“Pictures are cool,” she echoes. Jamie sits back in her seat and tucks her long fingers underneath her thighs. I imagine it’s quite warm under there. She narrows her eyes and smiles. “How can pictures be cool if you hate cameras?”

She’s pushing me and I’m starting to sweat. I need to nip this in the bud because I get pungent. “Can I just say my five good things now?”

Jamie frowns. She’s disappointed. Fine, I’m used to it. “Go ahead. Your turn,” she says.

“Okay.” Since this is my only session, there’s no point going beyond the basics. “Five good things about me. One: my mom and I are cool. She can be annoying, but I love her to death. Two: I’m in all Level 1 and AP classes at school and I have the highest GPA in my class. Three: I’ve got a great seat at lunch because it’s next to JP, and he and I hang out all the time. Four: I’m a nice guy. Five: I have nothing to complain about—I’m fine.”

She bobs her head. “Well, all right then. How about that.”

“How about that.”

“You have nothing to complain about.”

“Nope.”

“Even though you made that wish.”

“Yup.”

“Lucky you,” she says.

“They don’t call me Dylan Luckiest Guy Ever for nothing.”

“Except you don’t seem like a Dylan.”

“What did you think my name was, Throg the Rock Crusher?”

She giggles. After Fern in the library, I don’t want to hear another girl laugh ever again, but she has the best laugh. “I admire you for making a joke. I’m not there yet.”

Now I squint at her. “What could you possibly need to joke about?”

“Um, maybe everything!” Her laughter comes from a way-deep place and erupts. “It wasn’t the wish I made on the star last night, but I’ve had your wish too. Maybe that’s why it didn’t come true for either of us. We’re overloading the system.”

“Maybe the wish factory needs a new call center.”

“You’re funny,” she says. “Even if you are a liar.”

“What? Why would you call me a liar?”

Jamie bends near enough for me to see her pores. Except there are none. She has the most perfect skin I’ve ever seen. It’s like cream. Her face reminds me of almonds. Her chin, her forehead, her cheekbones, all smooth, but just enough subtle edges and sharp points to leave a mark if you push too hard.

“If your life is so flipping fantastic,” she whispers, “then why are you here?”