The Best Possible Answer(22)

“You’re welcome.” I open my eyes and look over at her.

Sammie finally puts down her phone and breaks the silence: “Okay, what was that?”

I sit up. “I don’t know.”

“But, like, what happened? Why did you walk off like that?”

I shrug. “I guess I was just offended. I mean, what an ass. How dare he say we don’t know about life.”

“I get that. But what’s with the dramatic exit? That kind of performance is my specialty.” She laughs quietly. “You know that.”

I have to tell her. “Evan jumped in after me. After you left.”

“What do you mean he ‘jumped in’?”

“He got into the water with all of his clothes on.” I force a laugh to make it sound like it was something silly, something light. “He was playing lifeguard or something, I think.”

“But Vanessa was on duty,” she says. “Ugh. This is ridiculous. He likes you, not me.” She can see straight though me.

I try a different route. “Well, even if he does, I’m pretty sure that I’ve sufficiently convinced Evan that I’m certifiable, so I don’t think he’ll be expressing any further interest in me. Now he’s really all yours.”

I hope this works. Even though he may be into me, which I’ve just admitted, I’m absolutely determined not to go for him. I’m absolutely determined not to go for anyone. If Sammie knew that I even remotely like him, she’d back off, which would be pointless. As far as I’m concerned, he’s fair game.

Sammie gives me a half-skeptical, half-hopeful look. “So you’re saying you think I should go for him? That it’s okay if I go for him.”

“Of course,” I say. And I’m being honest. It really is okay.

“I mean, he wasn’t as much of a jerk today,” she says. “All that talk about true love and his dreams and that stuff with his dad. He seems really sweet, actually.”

“That’s true.”

She picks up her phone and opens his Instagram page. “Look how cute he is, with his guitar.”

She clicks on it and plays a clip of him strumming a Bon Iver song. “He’d make a good boyfriend, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know what a good boyfriend is.”

She doesn’t respond to my pathetic burst of self-pity. Instead, she just sighs and puts away her phone. We lie under the clear, dark sky a little longer, and thankfully the conversation shifts to finals and senior year and then to less important stuff, like the pros and cons of fried Oreos and our lack of plans for my upcoming birthday, which is on the Fourth of July.

At midnight, we head back downstairs and climb into her bed, where Sammie continues to play on Instagram while I lie awake, trying not to think about my most recent Episode and why I reacted the way I did. Or Evan. Or how much Sammie likes him. Or how cute he was in that clip.

*

Sammie’s off today on a mysterious errand with her mom, one that she won’t tell me about. I assume it has something do with my birthday in a few weeks. Even though I told her she doesn’t have to do or get anything for me, she always plans some extravagant surprise, like baking me two dozen cookies from scratch or setting up a citywide scavenger hunt. She goes so far that when her birthday finally comes in August, I feel lame for not knowing how to match hers.

Since she’s gone, and it’s slow today, I’m actually able to get some studying done. Hardly anyone has come, since it rained all morning, just a few of the hard-core lap swimmers. Virgo thought he was going to have to close the pool, but there hasn’t been any lightning, just a sprinkle here and there, and there’s still another hour and a half until closing. Still, poor Evan’s under an umbrella on deck, waiting for an eighty-something-year-old woman to finish her water aerobics.

Virgo sits down next to me and opens the schedule binder. “Ciao, bella. Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

He looks at my book. “Aren’t you done yet?”

“Nope. Three more finals.”

“I do not miss high school.”

“Don’t you still have to take finals?”

“Sure, but a college semester’s only sixteen weeks, so we were done almost a month ago. Plus, you don’t have to be at school seven hours a day. You actually have time to study.”

“Sounds glorious.”

“I mean, it’s a lot of work, but you’re going to be amazed at how much easier it is than high school in a lot of ways. Especially since you’re a nerd.”

“Hey, I’m not a nerd!”

He flips to the back cover of my book. “You’re studying for a health final. No one studies for health finals. So, yeah, you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t want to mess up my GPA.”

Virgo laughs. “You’re a nerd. But believe me, that’s a good thing. You’ll rule the world one day.”

I thank him because I know he’s saying it to be nice, not to mock me, but I can’t help but feel a little self-conscious.

A few minutes later, Evan approaches the desk. “Last person just got out, finally,” he says. Then he jumps on the counter and sits so his legs are right next to my book. He tries to catch my eye, to offer me a smile that reads like maybe a request or an apology, or, at the very least, a plea for a truce.