Tell Me Three Things(51)

I cross the lawn, vaguely hear Gem and Liam begin to argue.

“Hey there,” I say, once I’m in front of Caleb. Instead of his usual uniform, he’s sporting a USC sweatshirt and jeans with paint splatters, a baseball cap pulled low, as if he wants to downplay his good looks. Still a Ken doll, just the construction version. “Always on your phone.” I smile, the closest I get to flirting, which is its own form of double-talking, I guess. I hope he can’t see my bruises.

“Yeah,” he says. “Thank God Liam found it at the party. Not sure how I would have lived without it.”

“Phew,” I say, and exaggeratedly wipe my hand against my brow. I look like a moron.

“About that coffee—” he says.

“Like I said, we don’t have to. I just—” I want to say: I like talking to you every day. I look forward to your three things. I think about you. A lot. Let’s make this real.

But of course, I don’t. For whatever reason, he wants to keep up the virtual divide.

“No, I’d really like to. It’ll be fun to show a newbie the ropes. Maybe after school on Thursday?”

“Sure,” I say.

“Cool,” he says, and salutes me with his phone again, that weird let’s IM later signal. I feel bad about his brush-off—he obviously doesn’t want me to stay and chat—but a minute later, my phone buzzes.



SN: saving the world, one nail at a time.

Me: I will sleep well tonight knowing I did my good deed for the year.

SN: your sarcasm is endearing.

Me: Is it really?

SN: yes, yes it is.



Dri hugs me as if we didn’t just see each other less than twenty-four hours ago, and as if she didn’t text me ten times last night to make sure I was okay. Clearly, she feels bad about not helping me yesterday, but what could she have done? I’m the one who let myself be tripped.

“I love WVGD. I’d take this over classes any day,” she says, and squints up at Liam on a ladder, his shirt now off, advertising an impressive almost-but-not-quite six-pack and a splattering of freckles. “Not a bad view.”

“I know. She’s one-note,” Agnes says, with an apologetic look. “Sorry to hear about all the Gem drama yesterday. You want me to kick her ass?”

“Would be fun to watch, but no thanks.” I think about how many people have offered an ass kicking on my behalf since I moved here, and I feel grateful. Although I wish I didn’t need defending, it’s nice knowing there are people who have my back. “Theo was actually my knight in shining armor today.”

“Seriously? Theo?” Dri asks.

“Yup. I’m about as shocked as you are.”

“Look at that. Family comes first,” Agnes says.

“Maybe it does,” I say, looking over at Theo, who has found Ashby—her hair is no longer pink, but a shocking white—and they’re laughing on the fringes of the job site totally unconcerned about participating in today’s events. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s rolling a big, fat joint.

—

Lunch is a full buffet, set up in aluminum trays over fire burners. None of that bag-lunch nonsense. It almost looks like Gloria was here, perhaps Rachel’s donation to WVGD. But no, it turns out it’s Gem’s dad who is responsible. There’s even a card on the table saying Thank you to the Carter family for this organic feast!

Shit. I wonder if that means I can’t eat.

“Whatever. Don’t let her stop you,” Ethan says, and I jump as much from the fact that I didn’t realize he was behind me as from the fact that he has read my mind.

“I know it’s stupid, but—”

“Nah. Not stupid, but if it’s as good as last year, I promise you won’t want to miss it. Even out of pride.”

“It’s not pride. It’s not wanting to give her another reason to come near me.”

“Seriously? I thought you were tougher than that,” Ethan says, and he takes two plates and piles them with food. Hands one to me.

“What made you think that?” I ask. He shrugs, motions for me to follow him, and so of course I do. I’ve noticed that Ethan has the ability to find a space and make it his own, and he’s even managed to do that here, though we are only spending a single day on this construction site. He sits on the ground behind the half wall of the future kitchen and under the shade of an enormous grapefruit tree. Away from the rest of our class, and though not quite out of view, in a direction no one would think to look.

“So listen. Sorry about yesterday,” Ethan says.

“Why? You didn’t do anything,” I say, and follow his lead and start eating. He’s right: the food is delicious. Cheeseburgers, though the cheese is neither yellow nor processed and probably has a French name I can’t pronounce and the burger resembles a burger only in form. Kobe beef, according to the tiny flag stuck in its center, as if this designation is one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.

Thug life, my ass.

It’s Gem’s world, I think not for the first time. The rest of us just get to live in it.

“Exactly. I sit there and listen to those girls say stupid crap and I just pretend I can’t hear them because it’s all so dumb, it doesn’t seem worth it. But I don’t know. I should have said something. And I wish I had seen her foot.”