Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda(58)

Not to mention the fact that I could call him right this second and know who he is.

But I think I won’t call. Not yet. Because, for all I know, he’s waiting for me. For real. In person. Which means I have to get to the mall.


It’s almost seven by the time I get there, and I’m kicking myself for being so late. It’s already dark, but the carnival is noisy and lit and alive. I love these pop-up carnivals. I love that a parking lot in January can be transformed into summer at Coney Island. I see Cal and Brianna and a couple of the seniors standing in line to get tickets, so I make my way toward them.

I’m worried that it’s too dark. And I’m worried, of course, that Blue has come and gone. But it’s impossible to know when I don’t know who I’m looking for.

We all buy tons of tickets, and then we ride everything. There’s a Ferris wheel and a carousel and bumper cars and flying swings. We fold our legs up into the baby train and ride that, too. And then we all get hot chocolate, and drink it sitting on the curb near the concession stand.

I stare at everyone walking, and every time someone looks down and makes eye contact, my heart goes haywire.

I spot Abby and Nick sitting in front of the games, holding hands and eating popcorn. Nick has a holy buttload of stuffed animals lined up around his feet.

“There’s no way he won all of these for you,” I say to Abby. I feel nervous as I walk up to her. I’m not sure we’re on speaking terms.

But she smiles up at me. “Not even. I won these for him.”

“It’s that crane game,” says Nick. “She’s a total boss. I think she’s cheating.” He nudges her sideways.

“Keep thinking that,” says Abby.

I laugh, feeling shy.

“Sit with us,” she says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She scoots closer to Nick to make room. Then she leans her head against my shoulder for a moment and whispers, “I’m sorry, Simon.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”

“Eh, I’ve thought about it, and you definitely get a pass when you’re being blackmailed.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yup,” she says. “And because I can’t stay mad when I’m deliriously happy.”

I can’t see Nick’s face, but he taps the toe of his sneaker against her ballet flat. And they seem to shift closer to each other.

“You guys are going to be a really gross couple, aren’t you?” I say.

“Probably,” says Nick.

Abby looks at me and says, “So, is that the shirt?”

“What?” I ask, blushing.

“The shirt that Drunky McDrunkbutt made me drive all the way across town for.”

“Oh,” I say. “Yeah.”

“I’m guessing there’s a story behind it.”

I shrug.

“Does it have to do with the guy you’re looking for?” she asks. “This is about a guy, right?”

I almost choke. “The guy I’m looking for?”

“Simon,” she says, putting her hand on my arm. “You’re obviously looking for someone. Your eyes are everywhere.”

“Hmph,” I say, burying my face.

“You know, it’s okay to be kind of romantic,” she says.

“I’m not romantic.”

“Right.” Abby laughs. “I forgot. You and Nick are so cynical.”

“Wait, what did I do?” asks Nick.

Abby leans into him, but looks up at me. “Hey. I hope you find him, okay?” she says.

Okay.


But it’s eight thirty, and I still haven’t found him. Or he hasn’t found me. It’s hard to know what to think.

He likes me. I mean, that’s basically what the note said. But the note was written two weeks ago. It almost kills me. Two weeks with the shirt under my freaking pillow, and I had no idea what was tucked away inside of it. I know it’s been said, but I’m a monumental idiot.

I mean, in two weeks, he could have changed his mind about me.

The carnival shuts down in half an hour, and my friends have all gone home. I should go, too. But I have another couple of tickets, so I blow most of them on midway games and save my last one for the Tilt-A-Whirl. I figure it’s the last place I’ll find Blue, so I’ve been avoiding it all night.

There’s no line at all; I walk straight onto the ride. The Tilt-A-Whirl has these metal pods with domed tops, and there’s a metal wheel in the middle that you can turn to make your pod spin. And then the ride itself whirls around quickly, and the whole point is just to get you dizzy. Or maybe the point is to empty your head.

I’m alone in my seat, with the seat belt pulled as tight as I can make it. A couple of girls squeeze into the pod next to mine, and the operator walks over to latch the gate. Almost all the other pods are empty. I lean back and shut my eyes.

And then someone slides in beside me.

“Can I sit here?” he asks, and my eyes snap open.

It’s Cute Bram Greenfeld, of the soft eyes and soccer calves.

I loosen the seat belt to let him in. And I smile at him. It’s impossible not to.

“I like your shirt,” he says. He seems nervous.