Shuffle, Repeat(14)

Darbs doesn’t take his hand. “I know who you are.”

Oliver lowers his arm. The moment stretches into a standoff, both of them unmoving, staring straight at each other. I catch myself wondering if Darbs is noticing the gray part of his eyes also.

She points to her head. “How do you like my hair?”

He looks her over. “Cool. Last year was green, right?”

“Turquoise.” Darbs holds out a bag. “Chips?”

“Thanks.” Oliver takes one and the moment is over.

Shaun clears his throat. “Everyone done peeing on the bleachers?”

“I am,” says Darbs.

“Me too,” says Oliver.

“I don’t have to pee,” says Lily.

Itch and I don’t say anything.

Shaun gestures at me. “Oliver asked me to settle a bet between him and June.”

I feel two things: Itch’s stare and my cheeks blazing up again.

“June,” says Oliver, “will you accept Shaun as our impartial judge?”

“It’s just a game,” I say. “And sure. Shaun is fine.”

Shaun reminds everyone of our morning carpool arrangement. Lily shakes her head. “No, really. What do you talk about?”

“They don’t,” says Shaun. “That’s why there’s a game.” He turns to me. “When are you going to get your license, anyway?”

I’m unprepared to answer that question, so I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “I’ll get to it.”

“When?” asks Itch.

“When I’m ready,” I tell him, irritated. “It’s not like I even own a car.”

“You worked at the nature center all summer,” Lily says. “You’ve got to have some cash.”

“She spent it on hookers,” says Oliver.

“And blow,” I agree.

Lily and Darbs and Shaun all laugh. Itch doesn’t. “You should get on that,” he says.

“Eh.” Oliver shrugs. “It’s just a license.”

Shaun claps his hands really loudly and we all quiet down to pay attention. He explains the game and I lay out my first proof, just like I did this morning by the family sciences room.

Shaun mulls. He considers. He strokes his chin and says “hmmm” until I kick him in the shin. “Ow!”

“Come on. Lunch is almost over.”

Shaun takes a deep breath. “Okay, I have completed my deliberations.”

“Tell us, O Masterful One,” says Lily.

“Seriously?” I ask her.

“Sorry.” She grins at me. “This is hilarious, you know.”

Shaun clears his throat. “It should be recognized that all decisions of the judge are final. No additional discourse shall be allowed once a verdict has been rendered.”

“Agreed,” says Oliver.

“Agreed,” I say.

“In the case of June Rafferty versus Oliver Flagg, I hereby pronounce in favor of…” We all wait while Shaun does some additional throat clearing and head bobbing. “Oliver Flagg.”

“What?” The word squawks from my mouth. “You’re supposed to be my friend!”

“I have been retained as an impartial judge,” Shaun reminds me. “And in this venerable magistrate’s opinion, it’s just crazy-pants to think that something repeating in the future negates what’s happening in the present. Tomorrow, I’m going to have lunch. That doesn’t mean I didn’t have lunch today.”

“He’s got a point,” says Lily.

I know she’s right but it’s super irritating. Still, I try to defend myself.

“But tomorrow’s lunch might be better than today’s,” I tell Shaun. “I could have more money. I’ll be able to afford better ingredients.”

“Or you might not,” he says. “You might be back in the cafeteria eating wilted salads and dry spaghetti.”

“I won’t.”

“But you might. And in other news,” Shaun continues, “I believe Oliver has a proof of his own to share.”

My eyes narrow. I whip my head around to glare at Oliver. “Really.”

“Why, yes. And I have you to thank for it.” Oliver gives me the sweetest of smiles. “What you said about college really hit me. You’re right, you know. All that cool stuff will happen in college. However”—he leans in close—“you know what determines what college you get into?”

My shoulders slump and I know I’ve been defeated. “High school.”

Oliver doesn’t say anything. He just raises both hands in the air and starts snapping his fingers and moving his shoulders in time to an imaginary beat.

“You have no rhythm,” I tell him.

“He’s not so bad,” says Lily, starting to snap along. Darbs grins and joins in. Shaun, too.

“This is the worst,” I inform everyone as, in the distance, the bell rings.

Oliver rises, still snapping. “Foreigner,” he says as he jumps one bleacher down from where we are. “Poison.” He jumps down another. “Warrant.”

“What are you doing?” I ask, exasperated.

“Torturing you,” Itch tells me. “Those are the names of crappy bands.”