Bright Before Sunrise(8)

“And?” I prompt.

“Oh! And nothing.” She frowns. “But, gah, he’s too adorable! He’s wearing this yellow polo today, with a blue stripe that is the exact same color as his eyes. How am I supposed to pay attention when he’s wearing that? And he was telling Max at the next table about his new car—he just got his license. I’d die to be his copilot!”

I don’t have time to be relationship therapist and chemtutor, so I offer the obvious solution and hope we can move on. “So, why don’t you ask him out?”

Silvia laughs and plays with the mouse. “Yeah, right! We’re not all you. I could never. When it comes to Adrian, I’m just … hopeless!”

I’m not going to bite this time. I’m not going to play Who’s More Popular or list the reasons any guy would be lucky to date her. I know she expects this, and it would only take a blink to conjure up the words.

But I can’t. I just can’t.

“Well, then, let’s focus on something less hopeless, like getting you an A on this lab.”

It’s kinder than what I’m thinking—it must be nice to have your biggest problem be a hot lab partner—but my tone is sharper than I intend.

Silvia’s face crumples. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. You can go. I’ll—I’ll stop being so stupid and figure it out.”

My stomach clenches. Hurting her feels like punching myself in the gut. “Oh, Silvie, I’m sorry. That came out wrong.” I give her a one-armed hug and say what I should have said the first time. “Any guy would be lucky to have someone as adorable, funny, and wonderful as you. Your snickerdoodles alone would make most guys drool—combine those with how pretty you are, and how nice? If Adrian hasn’t noticed, then he’s the one who’s stupid.”

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks.” But there aren’t exclamation points on these sentences. She turns her face toward the screen. “I’ll get started so you can get out of here.”

I’m trying not to watch the clock, and not to guess how long everything will take. I’m impatient—I don’t want to keep repeating myself for Silvia or go make small talk with Mr. Donnelly—and knowing that makes me feel worse. I adore Silvie. I like tutoring. I love organizing service projects.

At least, I usually do. I should probably apologize again, make sure she’s okay, but she’s finally focusing on the computer screen and it’s taking all my energy not to clench my hands into fists, so I don’t interrupt.

“Great!” I tell her. “You’re getting it.”

My job is purely moral support, company, and prompts to keep going. A talking doll could do this job—probably better than I could, since a doll wouldn’t have snapped at Silvia. A doll wouldn’t make Silvia feel like she had to apologize for every question or thank me for every answer.

It takes me until she hits print to convince her that I don’t mind, that she’s not stupid, and really, I’m not annoyed with you. How could anyone be annoyed with you?

Silvia thanks me again, and hugs me. “I mean it, B. You’re the best! I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about this over the weekend.”

“Anytime.” I hug her back. “But I should get going if I’m going to catch Mr. Donnelly before he leaves.”

As I walk down the hall I catch sight of a tall guy wearing a yellow polo with a blue stripe standing at a locker. I’m only two doors from Mr. Donnelly’s room, but I’m still suffocating on computer lab guilt, so I pause and smile at him.

“Hi! Adrian, right?”

He looks startled, then grins. “Yeah. Hey, Brighton. I didn’t know you knew me—I guess from that animal-shelter thing earlier in the year?”

“Of course!” I agree. “Anyway, could you do me a quick favor? Please?”

“For you? Yeah. Sure! What’s up?” He pops the tab on a can of Red Bull and takes a sip.

“Do you know Silvia Lombardo?”

“Tall, bouncy girl with brown hair? She’s in my chem class.” His locker is still open, and it’s a mess of energy drinks, papers, Sharpies, and a trio of Cross Pointe High hooded sweatshirts.

“Great! I forgot to tell her what time Key Club is meeting Sunday, and I’m already late for a meeting with Mr. Donnelly. Would it be a huge inconvenience if I ask you to run back to the computer lab and tell her it’s at eight a.m.?”

“Is that the library thing? I’m going to that.”

“Fabulous!” His name is so not on the list in my bag, but I’ll take all the recruits I can get—plus, Silvia will be thrilled. “And did I hear you just got your license?”

“Yeah. Yesterday.” He blinks and stands a little taller, leans toward me. “I can finally use the parking space my parents reserved for me. Crazy, right? Them paying for a space I only get to use a dozen times before summer break—not that I’m complaining.”

I’m supposed to giggle or roll my eyes at his parents’ excess, but really I want to yank the Red Bull from his hand and chug it. Hope that there’s enough caffeine in the can to get me from now until whenever I can collapse on my bed.

I giggle.

“You know—” He shifts his weight and puts a hand on my arm. “I’m old for a sophomore. My parents kept me back in kindergarten, so I’m practically a junior. If you want to see my car—”