The Best Possible Answer(23)

I slide a few inches away, close my book, and slide it under the counter.

“God, I hope no one else shows up,” Virgo says.

“Can we close this place yet?” Evan complains. “I mean, look how dark the sky is.”

“Sorry,” Virgo says. “Only if you see lightning, or if a kid hurls in the pool.”

Evan looks at me. “Don’t you have a little sister? Any fake vomit upstairs you can bring down?”

I laugh. “Somewhere in her disaster of a room, I’m sure.”

Right then, the sky lights up with a flash and then a few seconds later everything vibrates with the booming echo of thunder.

Evan claps his hands and jumps off the counter. “There’s your lightning! Bennett Tower Pool is officially closed!”

Virgo heads off to tell the eighty-something-year-old woman that she has to get out of the water, and then he goes to lock up all the bathrooms. Evan and I work on putting away a few chairs and cleaning up the office.

I shut down the computers and close up the sign-in binders while Evan organizes the pH test kits. Even with the pounding rain and Virgo’s operatic voice reverberating down the hall, there’s an awkward silence between us. It’s the heavy weight of an unfinished conversation, one that I don’t want to have. I can tell he wants to talk to me because he keeps looking over at me, trying to catch my eye. Part of me wants to talk to him, too, to explain what happened the other day and why I can’t get involved with anyone right now and maybe even drop hints about how Sammie likes him. But I decide that the best thing to do right now is focus on cleaning up—that is, on keeping my mouth shut and eyes forward.

He locks up the last cabinet and then breaks the silence. “So we have this surprise gift of an hour or so. We should hang out or something.”

“Um, no. I need to study. Three finals this week. But thanks.”

Virgo comes into the office, drenched and smiling. “I love rain.”

“Let’s do something, yeah?” Evan says. “Viviana is going to call up Sammie and tell her to come hang out with us.”

“I never said I was going to—”

“Come on,” Evan says. “You need a break. See if Sammie’s home yet. Tell her to come.”

Now I’m totally confused. Why is he telling me to call Sammie? Is this part of his appeal for a truce? I really want to say no, but Sammie would kill me if I passed up this opportunity for a health final.

Evan looks at me. “We could all just hang out. Tell her to come.”

“Okay, yeah, I guess. Hold on.” I text her: URGENT. Lover boy wants to know if you’re home yet. Pool is closed due to lightning storm and he wants to hang out. Where are you?

I get an immediate text in return: HELL YASSS. Stuck in traffic but will be there sooooooon. Say yes and I will join you.

“Sammie’s in.”

“Excellent,” Evan says. “Virgo, you in?”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “I’ve got nothing to do.”

Evan looks at me. “Could we go up to your place?”

“No, my mom’s studying and my sister’s there, probably finding ten million ways to distract her. We could go to the roof of my building. There’s an indoor room. It’s used for parties, but when it’s not rented out, it’s open to anyone. And it’s actually great during a storm. When it thunders, the whole building rattles. But it’s even better up there. Mila says it’s like being inside a drum.”

“That sounds like absolute perfection,” Evan says.

Virgo agrees, and we run through the rain to the back door of Bennett Tower. I pull out my key and make a silent prayer to the gods of precipitation and other random occurrences that I don’t run into my mom or Mila in the elevator.

Thankfully, the gods are in good spirits today. We arrive at the top floor, to find the windows of the party room encased in thick gray clouds.

The room is empty except for some folded chairs and a Ping-Pong table. “Fantastic,” Evan says. “I haven’t played in years.” He finds a couple of paddles and balls under the table and motions to Virgo and me. “Two against one?”

I take a paddle. “I have to warn you. I’ve spent many hours up here. I’m a bit of a pro.”

“A pro, huh?” Evan picks up a ball and dribbles it on the table. “That sounds like a challenge. I’m in.”

Virgo takes his paddle and stands next to me. “I’m on her team.”

I text Sammie to let her know where we are, and then I take my position.

As it turns out, I am better than both Evan and Virgo, but generally speaking, we all kind of suck.

Evan is about to serve the ball to us when he stops. “Time out. Have you ever played Extreme Ping-Pong?”

“No.” Virgo and I both laugh.

“I am not familiar with Extreme Ping-Pong,” I say.

“Well, it’s a game where only the chosen few, only the truly daring, triumph,” Evan says. “The goal is to keep the ball off the floor, by any means possible. Other than that, there are no rules. Only survival. Do you think you two are brave enough to survive?”

What begins as a serious game with points and careful serves and rules about volleying and double bounces quickly devolves into a ridiculous game of full-room tennis. We’re leaping and diving and running around the room, hitting the ball so that it flies off the walls, off the ceilings, off our paddles two, three, four times, anything to keep the ball from the ground. And we’re on a streak. It has to be a good five solid minutes of the ball moving through the air before a flash of lightning fills up the room and thunder reverberates so loudly that Evan, who’s in control of the ball, drops it and shudders from the bang.