First & Then(44)

“Yeah. No problem.”

“At least you got one of those college bullet points you were talking about. Your name on a hard-hitting piece of journalism.”

I snorted. “I’d rather it wasn’t. Rachel’s got a style straight out of the National Enquirer. I hope she didn’t write her college essays like that.” I twisted my voice. “‘Do I Deserve It?—Ace student Rachel Woodson hunts for admission to your university.’”

Ezra smiled a little, and then it was quiet for a moment. “So, uh, did you write the ‘inaccessibly handsome’ part?”

“No, I definitely didn’t.” I realized how that sounded and then felt compelled to go on. My shoes suddenly became incredibly interesting. “But, I mean … it’s true.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

I tried to sound casual. “Sure, I mean, who doesn’t? Those PTs in gym practically salivate every time you walk into the room.”

“PTs?”

“The, uh, the girls in gym. They obviously appreciate”—I gestured vaguely to Ezra’s body—“all this business.”

He smiled a little, lips closed, as he looked back down at the paper for a moment. “What about the ‘inaccessible’ part? Kinda makes me sound like a badly zoned public restroom.”

“It’s true, though. A few details here and there aren’t bad. You’re not exactly forthcoming.”

“I told you. I’m not great at talking.”

“You’re talking now.”

He shrugged. “You’re easy to talk to.”

It was quiet for a moment. Something fluttered around in my stomach. A lone butterfly, agitating me for some reason.

Ezra’s voice was strange when he next spoke, a few notes higher than usual. “So Homecoming’s coming up.”

“Yeah.”

“Would you … maybe want to go with me?”

His face was turned away from me, as if he was extending the invitation to the goalposts.

“Well … yeah. Sure.”

He glanced over at me. “Really?”

“Why not?”

“Cool. Okay. That’s cool. I, uh, I’m also having this thing afterward.… I mean, Jordan is trying to get me to have this thing, this party.… Maybe you could come to that, too.”

“A double invitation. Ambitious.”

“If you wanted to, I mean, you don’t have to—”

“I’ll be there.”

“For real?”

“For real.”





23


“And then,” Foster said in the car after practice, “we ran the fake-out play. I go in, so the other team thinks, like, we’re going to go for a three-pointer, you know? But then we don’t! Instead of putting it down for me, they pitch it out to Ezra and Ezra runs it and it’s, like, touchdown!”

We had gone to the McDonald’s drive-through and were now parked in the lot of the neighboring combination Taco Bell/Pizza Hut. Parking sort of defeated the purpose of hitting the drive-through, but I wanted one of those vanilla swirl ice-cream cones, and they were hard to eat while driving.

“And what are you supposed to be doing while all that’s going on?” I asked, and then caught a lone dribbler running down the side of my cone.

“Trying not to get crushed. That’s what Ezra said.”

“That’s good advice.”

Foster looked over at me knowingly. “He asked you. To Homecoming.”

“He did.”

“And you said yes.”

“I did.” I smiled a little. “So?”

“So … cool. Right?”

“Right.”

“I got a date, too,” Foster said, and then crammed a handful of fries into his mouth.

“Oh yeah? Who?”

He chewed and then said thickly, “Gwin Holtzer.”

“Gwin Holtzer?” I repeated. “Don’t you mean Gracie?”

“I mean Gwin. Gracie’s older sister.”

“Older sister? How old?”

“She’s a sophomore.”

“Geez, this is a big deal. You skipped a whole class of Holtzer. You must be a hot commodity.”

Foster didn’t speak. When I glanced over at him, his eyes were fixed on the window, his brow furrowed.

“What about Marabelle?” I said after a pause.

“Oh, she’s not going.” He was trying to sound nonchalant, but that made him sound even more … chalant.

“So … Gwin it is.”

“Gwin it is.”




Apparently, Homecoming was on a lot of people’s minds. Cas followed me in the cafeteria line the next day, grabbed a tray and a carton of milk, and said, “So what color’s your dress?”

“I haven’t gotten it yet.”

“Well, let me know when you do. We don’t want to clash.”

It took me a moment. “We?”

“You and me. Who else?” Cas grabbed two side salads and put them on each of our trays. “Move down, you’re holding up the line.”

I slid my tray down toward the entrees. “I … I thought you were going to ask Lindsay.”