What We Saw(12)

“Don’t. Make. Me. Come. Over. There.”

“What? We were just hanging out,” I say matter-of-factly. “From time to time, we hang out. As is our custom. Since we were five years old.”

“With his head in your lap?”


This is what we do, Rachel and I. It’s why we’re best friends. If it were up to her, even state secrets would be shared, thus causing disaster on a global level. If it were up to me, during said disaster we’d all die alone in the dark from lack of communication and basic resources. The simple fact of the matter is, we need each other. Still, I find a strange delight in making her pry the details out of me.

“I’m waiting,” she reminds me.

“For what?”

She’s all business. “Confirmation of head in lap.”

“I will not stand for these wild allegations.”

“Oh my god,” she groans. “This isn’t even the biggest story of the day, and you’re making me work my butt off for it. You and Ben hanging out is like a blip on the scrolling ticker under the anchor’s face on CNN.”

“Fine,” I relent. “I walked over to his house to say thank you for bringing me back home last night.”

“Aaaaaand?”

“And we went to get ice cream and sat in the park.”

“Kate, this will go faster if you just tell me all of the details at once.”

I smile. “But I like hearing you beg.”

“Okay,” she says. “Then I have no choice. You’re forcing me to do this.”

“Do what?”

“If you don’t spill it this instant, I will tell everyone in school that you are a National Merit Semifinalist, and then whatever this is that you have with Ben will be doomed because your secret genius will be known to all.”

I start to giggle. Rachel is the only person who a) gives me ultimatums, and b) makes me laugh like a sixth-grader.

“Okay, okay! Uncle.” I crack. “Ben put his head in my lap while we were talking, and then he fell asleep for a few minutes.”

“That’s it?” she asks.

“That’s it.”

“You didn’t bore him to death with all your smarty-pantsness, did you? Is that why he fell asleep?”

“No, Rach. Ben has a secret, too.”

“Narcolepsy? I knew it. He could never stay awake in geometry last year.”

“No.” I laugh, and take a deep breath. “He’s also a total brainiac.”

“Get. Out. He didn’t—”

“He did. Semifinalist. But don’t tell anyone. I’m sure he wants to break the news to Dooney and Deacon in whatever way will cause him the least”—I struggle for the right word—“hassle.”

“Dooney and Deacon?”

“Promise me you won’t tell them—or anybody who knows them.”

Rachel pauses. “Um, I’m pretty sure they have other stuff to worry about besides Ben Cody being too smart.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Only the biggest story of today,” she says.

“You mean the party?”

“I just can’t with you right now,” says Rachel. “You haven’t looked at your phone since you walked over to Ben’s, have you?”

“Just now,” I admit. “You’re my first contact with the media that is social.”

“This is why I love you, Kate Weston.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing I can’t catch you up on tomorrow,” she says. “Sleep tight.”

“Wait—how do you know I’m already in bed?” I ask her.

“Are you in bed?”

I fluff my pillow and assume my British accent. “I might be. Or I might be about to sneak out for a clandestine rendezvous with a mysterious stranger.”

“Uh-huh,” says Rachel. “And I might be crowned Miss Nebraska next month. See you tomorrow, Katherine the Great.”





UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE


HarperCollins Publishers

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eight


“SHE WAS SO wasted.”

I can hear Christy long before I see her walk around the corner with Lindsey. It’s one of the things that makes her an excellent goalie: Her voice carries clear across the field. Also, she’s built like a tank: solid muscle.

The four of us got lucky this year; we were assigned spots just across from the senior stairwell where the lockers of the graduating class begin. Dooney and Deacon Mills shuffle down the steps above us. Some people claim the basketball players at our school have an arrogant strut, but Ben says they’re all walking that slowly because they’re in pain. Coach Sanders kills them with squats in the weight room.

Today, their lope is slowed further because they’ve got their noses about an inch from the screen of Dooney’s phone. I hope they don’t break their necks text-walking on the stairs. We need them both for the state tournament.

Christy’s laugh thunders over the noise in the hall as she gets closer. “Like, blackout drunk.”

“Is she here today?” Lindsey wants to know.