We Are the Ants(27)

I tossed the remote to Zooey and started to stand, but she said, “Don’t leave on my account. I have so much studying to do.”

“What class?”

She rolled her eyes and glanced at her book. “Just a stupid history survey.”

“Sounds like a blast.”

“I hate it. Not history—history’s pretty cool—just the way they cram two thousand years of human civilization into a five-month class.” Zooey shook her head. “Seriously, it’s like history for dummies. No, strike that. It’s like white male history for dummies. The professor totally ignores every major contribution by anyone who wasn’t a white dude.”

She talked about history the way I felt about science. Science is all around us. We are science. It governs our bodies, how we interact with the world and universe. But most people are too stupid to realize it. They think science is optional. Like if they refuse to believe in gravity, they can simply ignore it.

“Is that what you want to do?” I asked. “Be a historian, I mean.”

“No,” she said. “I think I want to be a psychologist.” Zooey flashed me a wry smile. “To be honest, I’m not even a hundred percent certain about that.”

“You’ve definitely got the patience for it. You’d have to, dating my brother and all.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll major in history, too, and become a historical psychologist.”

“Is that even a thing?”

Zooey shrugged. “Got me.”

Talking to her was easy. Even when she was watching the TV with one eye, I felt like she was really listening to me. Like she actually cared. “If you knew the world was ending, and you had the chance to stop it, would you?”

“Of course.” Zooey rubbed her belly. She wasn’t even showing yet, not that I could see. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” I said. “It’s for a school project.”

“That’s interesting.”

I shook my head. “Not really. Like I said: it’s just a school thing.”

Zooey turned toward me, giving me her undivided attention. “Not the question—the fact that you’d even need to ask.”

“You don’t think there are some pretty compelling -reasons for wiping the earth clean and starting over?”

“No,” she said, “but clearly, you do.”

I didn’t get the opportunity to respond because Charlie returned, his shirt sticking to his still damp body. He flopped down between me and Zooey and grabbed the remote, which was my cue to leave. Though she didn’t say anything, I felt Zooey’s eyes on my back as I left the room.

? ? ?

I was surprised when Diego texted me later that evening to meet him outside in twenty minutes. He refused to tell me where we were going, but Charlie and Zooey had ordered pizza and traded her history homework for baby name books, so I was especially grateful for the opportunity to escape.

Diego grinned when I hopped into the car, and didn’t even wait for me to buckle my seat belt before throwing Please Start into drive and lurching toward our destination, which didn’t take long to deduce.

“We could have walked here,” I said when Diego parked on the side of the beach road. It was empty, save for a couple of packs of cyclists that whizzed past, wearing those obscenely tight spandex shorts.

“I didn’t want to carry that.” He pointed at a long black duffel bag in the backseat.

“Are those the tools you’re going to use to kill and dismember me?”

Diego rolled his eyes. “If they were, do you think I’d tell you?”

“I’d tell you.”

“As if. I’m pretty sure the only thing you could dismember is a sandwich.” Diego hoisted the bag over his shoulder. “Speaking of, there’s a sack with subs on the floor. Grab the pop, too.” He started down the dunes, and I had to hustle to catch up. By the time he stopped, my shoes were full of sand, so I kicked them aside and peeled off my socks.

“If I’d known we were going to the beach, I would have worn flip-flops.”

“You usually do. I hadn’t expected you to be in fancy dress.”

“Fancy?” I tried to ignore my burning ears, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t put some thought into my outfit. Still, it was only jeans and a V-neck tee. Compared to Diego, though, I suppose I was a little dressy. He was wearing khaki shorts and a green tank that showed off his lack of tan lines and his impressive shoulders. I tried not to stare at the way his muscles rippled when he moved, but I rationalized that it would be insulting not to admire them a little. “Anyway, at least I can pick a style and stick with it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Preppy one day, surfer the next. It’s like you can’t decide who to be.”

Diego shrugged. “I like to try new things. You don’t go to a buffet and only eat spaghetti all night.”

“Still, it’s weird.” I walked to the edge of the water and breathed in the salt air. The sun had set, but the western sky was the color of peach skin, while the sky over the ocean was a clear lapis blue. The moon was a bright smile, hovering high to the south. “Is this the surprise?”

Diego knelt beside the bag and lifted out a navy tube and black tripod. It slipped, and I rushed to help. “It’s my sister’s telescope. I thought you’d enjoy looking at the stars.”