The Pretty One(59)

I laugh a little louder, as if by sheer force of will I can turn this whole thing into a harmless joke at no one’s expense. “No,” I say.

“You know what I mean. Someone you like-like.”

He’s not laughing. In fact, he’s not even smiling anymore. “I just did,” he says softly. “You.”

In addition to my worsening case of angina, I now have emphysema. No, no, no…

Simon sighs and says, “Last week, when I told you I needed to work some stuff out? Well, I wasn’t exactly honest when I said it didn’t have anything to do with you. It didn’t have anything to do with anything you’ve done or said…it’s just that, well, my feelings for you have changed—developed.”

But you’re my friend, I want to say, my best friend.

“I’ve tried to ignore it, but I, well, I can’t. I want to be more than friends.”

For the second time in five minutes I’m unable to speak.

“I know how you feel about Drew, but, I mean, you don’t really know him. And, well, like you said, Lucy likes him. Maybe if you gave us a chance…you might be able to forget about him.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as I stare at my lap.

“Do you…do you think you could see me as more than just a friend?”

Simon. My Simon. “I want things to be like they were before the accident,” I somehow manage to spit out. “I want you to be my best friend.”

“I can’t keep doing this, Megan,” he says. “I don’t want to be just friends anymore.” He picks up his lunch bag and crumples it into a ball. “I just want you to give me a chance. That’s all I’m asking. Come to the fall festival with me. As my date.”

“I…I…” What can I say that will make this all better? “I can’t.”

Simon’s eyes fill with tears. “I have to go,” he says quickly. “My contacts are bugging me.”

I sit still, watching him walk away from me, heading back toward school. Only then do I realize that my nose is running.





I’m so miserable that I’m tempted to blow off play practice. It’s not that I don’t want to see Drew, it’s just that I’m so upset I doubt I’ll be able to concentrate. And I’m right. Within the first few minutes of practice, it’s obvious that I made a mistake in coming. Even though I’m supposed to be off script, I’m not even remembering the most basic of words, like “yes” and “no.” After only the second page of dialogue, Drew says, “Are you okay?”

“Sure,” I say with a subdued laugh.

“You seem a little distracted.”

“I, well…” I desperately blink back tears as I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I can’t allow myself to cry. Not in front of Drew. “It’s Simon.”

And suddenly I feel guilty for even mentioning Simon’s name in front of Drew. How can I tell Drew what happened at lunch without breaking some unspoken trust between Simon and me?

“It’s not just Simon…it’s, well, everything. This year has just been weird, that’s all.”

He’s silent for a minute, just looking at me. “Maybe we should call it quits for today.”

“I don’t want to go home,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’m not going to go home.”

“I have to run an errand,” he says. “Do you want to come with me?”

“With you?” I ask.

He nods.

“Okay,” I say, grabbing my coat. I don’t even ask where he’s going. It seems irrelevant, somehow. We’re both silent as we leave the school, walking side by side to the parking structure. Even though I’m fulfilling a fantasy by spending some one-on-one time with him away from the school, and should therefore be totally, absolutely over the moon, I’m not. I’m too numb to be excited. The whole Simon thing has left me feeling like a wet noodle.

We walk up the stairs to the second floor of the lot, where he stops beside a brand-spanking-new and shiny BMW.

“Nice wheels,” I say, after I climb inside. Then I cringe. Who says wheels? Whenever I try to be cool, the words come out all wrong. But fortunately, Drew doesn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks,” he says. “It’s my stepfather’s but he lets me use it. He’s a lawyer for some big law firm. Actually, his office isn’t too far from here. He works in the Legg Mason building.”

“My mom’s a lawyer, too. She works in a renovated town house down the street from the Legg Mason building. It’s totally trashed but…she loves her job, which I guess is good because she works twenty-four seven.”

Drew’s quiet as he drives out of the structure. I notice he’s suddenly got a little crinkle in his brow, like he’s forgotten how to get where he’s going or he’s suddenly regretting asking such a clinically depressed person to join him.

“So where are we going?” I ask, trying my best to sound cheerful.

Drew grins as if he’s happy to know something I don’t. “You’ll see.”

As we drive through the Inner Harbor and head up to Route 83, we sit in nervous silence until Drew clears his throat.

“So,” he says finally. “Do you, ah, want to talk about whatever got you so upset today?”