If I'm Being Honest(77)

I’m walking up the steps when two volleyball guys pass Brendan, cutting him quizzical looks. I notice the way his expression wavers, and he self-consciously shifts the straps of his backpack. “I wasn’t sure if I should walk you to class,” he says when I reach him. “Usually I pick up what I need for Computer Science from Mr. West’s room—”

“Brendan,” I interrupt, “do you want to walk me to class?”

He blinks. “Of course,” he says after a moment.

“Then I don’t know why this is a question.”

Brendan’s gaze wavers from mine. “It’s just . . .” he begins reluctantly. “I’d understand if you don’t want to be public about us,” he says finally. “The only thing that’s important to me is being with you.”

His words throw me, until I put together the pieces—the way he dodges my eyes, the way he flinched from the jocks like a fugitive in plain sight. “You think I’m embarrassed to be seen with you?”

“Well . . .” Brendan half shrugs uncomfortably.

I take his hand, entwining my fingers with his. “You’re wrong,” I tell him. “So wrong I’m starting to doubt if you’re as smart as everyone says you are.”

Hesitantly, he smiles. We walk up the front steps, hand in hand. I don’t fail to catch the glances from the crowd hanging out in front of the doors—including Elle, who’s not openly stunned like the rest. Just dismissive. “You actually might be more popular than I am at the moment,” I mutter to Brendan.

Brendan cuts me a curious look. “I am?”

“Elle and Morgan won’t talk to me. Probably Andrew, too. Your sister’s pretty much my only friend. Whereas I heard you had tons of girls trying to get with you last week.” I nudge his shoulder.

“I guess you’re right,” he says brightly. “Wait,” he adds, pausing with an expression on his face like he’s just had an epiphany. “What am I doing here with you? If I’m the popular one, I should be taking the student body president to winter formal or hooking up with the captain of the dance team.”

I shove him lightly. “Very funny.”

“You think I’m joking?” He raises an eyebrow.

I indignantly yank my hand away, but he holds it tighter, pulling me to him and kissing me in front of everyone. I hear the murmur ripple through my classmates, and I don’t care. I wrap my hand around his neck and kiss him back.

He draws away. “I was joking, you know,” he says.

“Yeah,” I reply breathlessly. “I know, dummy. Besides, half the school saw that. I think you’re stuck with me now.”

“Good.” He opens the front door for me. “How should we tell the other half?”



* * *





I watch the clock in fourth-period English. For the first time in a while, I’m genuinely looking forward to lunch. I’m meeting Brendan in the robotics room, where he’s going to walk me through the newest demos of The Girl’s a Sorceress. Is this love, looking forward to video games?

Finally, the bell rings, interrupting Ms. Kowalski, who’s spent the past five whole minutes reminding us our term paper is due right before winter break. I toss my copy of The Taming of the Shrew in my bag and rush to the door.

Morgan’s waiting by the drinking fountain for Elle. I pass her, keeping my eyes determinedly averted.

“Hey, Cam, wait,” I hear behind me when I’m at the end of the hall.

I turn, finding Morgan jogging to catch up with me. She’s wearing a new pair of leather boots, and they click loudly against the tile. I say nothing when she stops in front of me.

“I—I heard about you and Brendan,” she begins, her cheeks flushed. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Morgan nervous before. “I just wanted to say I’m really happy for you.”

“You . . . are?” I want to say more, but I can’t decide if I’m mad at her for ignoring me for two weeks or happy she’s speaking to me.

She tosses a look over her shoulder toward Kowalski’s room, where Elle will be emerging any moment. “I’m not, like, choosing sides, you know. This fight is honestly really stupid, and I’m not getting in the middle.”

I feel my eyes widen. “Sitting with Elle at lunch and not texting me is you not choosing sides?”

Morgan’s lips twist into a frown, but she doesn’t drop my gaze. “I’m sitting where I always sit. I can’t control that you decided to move. And you haven’t exactly been texting me either, you know.”

The classroom door swings open, revealing Elle’s shiny black hair. She looks for Morgan by the drinking fountain, then scowls when she doesn’t find her.

“Look,” Morgan continues, more hurriedly now, “Elle doesn’t have a ton of real friends, and you . . . well, Cameron, you’ve made it pretty clear you don’t need us. You have a whole other group of friends now and a boyfriend. I’m not going to abandon Elle, even if I do think this whole thing is idiotic.”

“I still need you guys,” I say quickly. It hits me then how much I need them. Elle and Morgan have been my friends for years. They understand parts of me I don’t think Paige or even Brendan ever fully could. I like watching weird TV shows with Paige and joking about geekdom with Brendan, but I also like sitting in Elle’s bathroom, learning how to line my lips, then going out to dance with her and Morgan to ridiculous pop songs. I don’t think I need to choose between those sides of myself. Do I?