Highly Illogical Behavior(22)

“Oh, is that right? I’m part of this now?”

“Only if you want to be. You said yourself that you’re getting tired of the guys from the team.”

“So tired,” he said. “Everything is such a pissing contest with those morons.”

“Well, there you go.”

“You know, you could probably just make something up for your essay and still get that scholarship,” he said.

“I know that. But, I want to help him. It’s not just about the scholarship anymore.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” she said. “Give me a few more weeks with him. I don’t want to overwhelm him and since you’ll probably dethrone me as his new best friend, I’d like to get to know him a little better.”

“I am very fun,” he said.

“Let me guess. Right now you are wearing pajama pants, probably nothing else, and there’s a bag of Doritos somewhere visible in the room. Maybe even a doughnut or two.”

“Amazing. How do you do it?”

“Magic,” she said. “What’s your sister doing?”

“Same thing. We’ve been playing video games for, like, five hours. I’m not proud, Lisa. But, also, I am proud?”

“It’s funny,” she said. “The second I start hanging with a dorky recluse, you turn into one. What is this life?”

? ? ?

The next day, Lisa was happy to find Ron’s car in the driveway. She didn’t like him much, but her mom did. And she was a lot happier when he was home. It sucked that they were the way they were: one of those couples that’s either all over each other or at each other’s throats. But some people are just wired that way, Lisa thought. And she was glad she wasn’t one of them.

Around lunchtime, she was looking over some history notes when her phone rang. It was Solomon.

“Didn’t I just talk to you a few hours ago?” she answered.

“What happened last night?”

“We watched the best movie ever and you came out to me.”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Being out is exhausting. I just woke up like an hour ago.”

“And what have you accomplished? Because me? I’ve already run two miles, written a book report, and started studying for a test.”

“Yeah. I spent twenty minutes watching a documentary on eels until I got too creeped out to keep going.”

“Okay . . . so, you’re having a productive day, that’s good.”

He laughed harder than she’d expected. It was a great laugh—that kind where you can actually hear the ha-ha-ha’s if you listen closely enough.

“Yeah . . . umm . . . did you know the lifespan of an eel is about eighty-five years?”

“That’s horrifying. Solomon, did you call to invite me over?”

“Maybe.”

“Go ahead. Just do it. Don’t be shy.”

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“If you want to be friends, you’re going to have to do the things that friends do. They call each other up and invite each other over. You’re halfway there.”

“Fine. Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you want to come over today?”

“I’m actually pretty busy,” she said, holding in a laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I am. How’s two o’clock sound? I’ve got about thirty more pages of notes to look over.”

“That’s perfect,” he said. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Solomon,” she scolded. “You were doing so well. What’s this if you want to business? I want to, okay?”

“Great,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

“Do you play chess?”

“I do. Very poorly.”

“Awesome. So chess it is then. Do you have a set?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s an Adventure Time edition. Please don’t make fun of me.”

“Are you kidding? Clark and I watch it all the time.”

“You’re shitting me!” he said.

“Am not.”

? ? ?

When she got to his house a couple of hours later, he had the chess set ready to go at the dining room table. She’d actually never spent any time in this room and it looked like nobody else had, either. Maybe this was an eat-on-your-own family like hers had always been. For whatever reason, she sort of hoped not, though.

“What’s your favorite food?” she asked, taking a seat.

“Are we in kindergarten?”

She looked down at the chess set and back up at him with one arched eyebrow.

“Okay,” he said, sitting down. “Pizza, probably.”

“Ugh,” she said. “So boring, Solomon.”

“You can say Sol if you want,” he said. “Or Solo.”

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Yeah.”

“I think Solo sounds kind of mean.”

“Nah,” he said. “Think Han, not Lonely Agoraphobe.”

“Ah . . . yeah, that works.”

“I like Sol though. My great-granddad was a Sol.”