Leah on the Offbeat(58)

27


“SIMON’S ACTING WEIRD,” BRAM SAYS on Thursday, chin in hand. He and Garrett and I have claimed a table in the corner of the library. “It’s like there’s something he’s not telling me.”

“Maybe he’s gay,” Garrett whispers.

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering that.” Bram’s so deadpan when he says it that I can’t help but smile. But God. I can’t believe Simon hasn’t told him. Does he really think the distance between New York and Philadelphia is a dealbreaker? We’re not talking Paris or Tokyo. This is literally an hour and a half on the train.

“I don’t know,” Bram says finally. Garrett looks at me and shrugs. And it hits me, all of a sudden, how strange it is to be spending a morning in the library with these two. Not Simon and Nick, not Morgan and Anna. Just Bram, Garrett, and me. That wouldn’t have happened a year ago. I don’t think it would have happened six months ago.

“Burke, I can’t tell if you’re staring into space or staring at Taylor’s ass.”

“Definitely Taylor’s ass,” I say automatically. I blink, and there she is, a couple of yards away from us. She’s crouched down and appears to be helping a freshman sort through an array of scattered papers. Sometimes I forget what a Girl Scout she is.

“I think she’s into Eisner,” Garrett murmurs.

I nod. “Agreed.”

“But what about Abby?” Bram asks.

Garrett shrugs. “I mean, she dumped him. He’s a free agent.”

“I guess so.” Bram chews on his lip. “Prom’s going to be interesting.”

“Yeah, with Eisner and Suso in the same limo? Guaranteed shitshow.”

“You think it will be bad?”

“For them? Yeah. But we’ll have the best time, Burke, I promise.” He smiles, and there’s this softness in his eyes.

I freeze.

And then the bell rings. Thank God. “I should get to class.” I stand quickly, almost upending my chair.

Because, wow. I can’t do this. I can’t deal with Garrett’s mushy eyes and Nick’s broken heart. And I really can’t be this head over heels for a straight girl. The head and heels need to get back in line.

I need to fucking chill about this Abby situation.

There honestly can’t be an Abby situation.

But I can’t stop thinking about tomorrow afternoon. This mysterious after-school plan that Abby’s concocting. She hasn’t said a word about it all week, and I’m actually starting to wonder if she’s forgotten about it entirely.

But just as we’re leaving English, she tugs the sleeve of my cardigan. “Hey, are you taking the bus tomorrow?”

My stomach goes haywire.

Like, seriously? Fuck this. Fuck you, butterflies. Stop acting like this is a rom-com moment. Am I taking the bus. That’s seriously a step above discussing the weather. But for some reason, my body’s decided to treat this like a marriage proposal.

I blink and nod and exhale.

“Cool. I can drive you home.” She grins. “I’m excited.”

I can’t even reply. I’m just a giant steaming mess.

The whole bus ride home, I’m like a blender on pulse. In one moment, I think I finally have my shit together, and then the anticipation hits me in one megawatt burst. Tomorrow, I get to be alone with Abby. Which doesn’t mean anything will happen. I’m pretty sure I’m trash for even wanting anything to happen.

But I may actually be losing my mind. I’m in the weirdest mood. I’m this close to flinging my arms out and running up a mountainside, Sound of Music–style.

I feel reckless.

And I want to do something.

I get online as soon as I get home and log into my art Tumblr. Because why shouldn’t I? I don’t even hesitate. I type some words and upload some pictures, and then I hold my breath and click post. Done. I link it to my sidebar.

And probably no one even gives a shit, and I’ll never hear from anyone—but in this moment, I don’t care. I really don’t. Because I did the thing, and I posted it, and now I feel like Bigfoot. Like every step I take leaves an imprint.

It’s right there on my Tumblr: I’m officially open for commissions.





28


BUT THE BIGFOOT FEELING VANISHES as soon as I get to school on Friday. Nick’s at my locker, clearly waiting for me. He perks up as soon as I get there. “Hey, I heard you’re hanging out with Abby today.”

“Um.” I hesitate. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

He nods. “Totally. Of course. I don’t want to get in the way of your friendship.” He does this weird, strained laugh. “It’s so funny, because I didn’t even know you guys were friends. But now you are! But, like, I’m totally cool with it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. So sure.” He nods like a Muppet. Holy shit.

I mean, he’s falling apart—and this is over the idea of Abby and me as friends. Platonic, hetero, after-school friends. He would die if he knew. He would actually die. So, yeah.

“Hey. So.” He stares at my forehead. “Will you let me know if she mentions me?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. That’s awesome. Oh man. I really appreciate that.”