Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda(6)

“I mean, why?” I ask.

“Because I wanted to.”

“But, like, why so many?”

“Can we talk about the fantasy suite now?” she says. Nora gets squirmy when the focus is on her.

“I mean, it’s the fantasy suite,” I say. “They totally did it. I’m pretty sure the fantasy doesn’t involve talking.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean intercourse.”

“MOM. Jesus Christ.”

I guess it was easy being in relationships where I didn’t really have to think about all the tiny humiliations that come with being attracted to someone. It’s like, I get along well with girls. Kissing them is fine. Dating them was really manageable.

“How about Daniel F.?” Nora asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Seriously, the piercings. I don’t get her.

“Okay, Daniel F.’s the hottest one,” says Alice. My mom and Alice are always using the phrase “eye candy” to talk about these people.

“Are you kidding me?” my dad says. “The gay one?”

“Daniel’s not gay,” Nora objects.

“Kid, he’s a one-man Pride Parade. An eternal flame.”

My whole body tenses. Leah once said that she’d rather have people call her fat directly than have to sit there and listen to them talking shit about some other girl’s weight. I actually think I agree with that. Nothing is worse than the secret humiliation of being insulted by proxy.

“Dad, stop,” says Alice.

And so Dad starts singing that song “Eternal Flame” by the Bangles.

I never know if my dad says that kind of stuff because he means it, or if he’s just trying to push Alice’s buttons. I mean, if that’s the way he feels, I guess it’s good to know. Even if I can’t un-know it.


So, the other issue is the lunch table. It’s been less than a week since the blackmail conversation, but Martin intercepts me on my way back from the lunch line.

“What do you want, Martin?”

He glances at my table. “Room for one more?”

“Um.” I look down. “Not really.”

There’s this weird beat of silence.

“We’ve got eight people already.”

“Didn’t realize the seats were assigned.”

I don’t have a clue what to say to that. People sit where they always sit. I thought that was basically a law of the universe.

You can’t just switch around the lunch tables in October.

And my group is weird, but it works. Nick, Leah, and me. Leah’s two friends, Morgan and Anna, who read manga and wear black eyeliner, and are basically interchangeable. Anna and I actually dated freshman year, and I still think she and Morgan are interchangeable.

Then you have the holy randomness of Nick’s soccer friends: awkward silence Bram and semi-douche Garrett. And Abby. She moved here from DC just before the beginning of the school year, and I guess we were sort of drawn to each other. It was some combination of fate and alphabetical homeroom assignments.

Anyway, that’s the eight of us. And it’s basically locked down. Already, we’re squeezing two extra chairs into a six-person table.

“Yeah, well.” Martin tilts backward in his chair and looks up at the ceiling. “I just figured we were on the same page here with the Abby thing, but . . .”

Then he raises his eyebrows at me. Seriously.

So, we haven’t exactly laid out the terms of this blackmail arrangement, but clearly it goes something like this: Martin asks for whatever the hell he wants. And then I’m supposed to do it.

It’s just so f*cking awesome.

“Look, I want to help you.”

“Whatever you say, Spier.”

“Listen.” I lower my voice, almost to a whisper. “I’m gonna talk to her and stuff. Okay? But you’ve got to let me handle it.”

He shrugs.

I feel his stink-eye on me all the way to my table.

I have to act normal. It’s not like I can say anything. I mean, now I have to say something about him to Abby, I guess. But it’ll be the exact opposite of what I want to say.

It may be a little hard getting Abby to like this kid. Because I kind of can’t stand him.

I guess that’s beside the point now.


Except the days keep ticking by, and I still haven’t handled it. I haven’t talked to Abby, or invited Martin along to crap, or locked them into empty classrooms together. I don’t even know what he wants, honestly.

I’m kind of hoping to avoid finding out for as long as humanly possible. I guess I’ve been doing a lot of disappearing. Or glomming onto Nick and Leah, so Martin won’t try to talk to me. I pull into the parking lot on Tuesday, and Nora hops out—but when I don’t follow, she pokes her head back inside.

“Um, are you coming?”

“Eventually,” I say.

“All right.” She pauses. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah.”

She looks at me.

“Nora. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she says, stepping back. She shuts the door with a soft click and heads toward the entrance. I don’t know. Nora’s weirdly observant sometimes, but talking to her about stuff can be kind of awkward. I never really noticed it until Alice left for school.