The Similars (The Similars #1)(87)

Johnny’s jaw tightens. His shoulders square. Without hesitating, Johnny squeezes his tray onto the table, directly between Colin and Zeke.

“You’re going to make room for me, right?” says Johnny evenly.

Zeke looks annoyed, Colin proud. “Sure thing, roomie!” Colin scoots over, giving Johnny space on the bench. “Cheer up, sour faces. This new kid might give us all a run for our money. And I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. Do you, Zeke?”

Zeke shrugs. “Not if he can keep up.”

Bianca spears a piece of melon with her fork. “Keeping up requires a certain image.” She eyes Johnny. “I doubt the new boy has what it takes.”

“You don’t know anything about the new boy,” says Johnny. Bianca’s hand freezes midbite. Her eyes narrow. Then she laughs. “He’s got a sense of humor, that’s for sure.” She leans back in her chair, studying Johnny like a specimen. Then she shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to prove me wrong, new boy.”

That’s when I notice two other students approaching in a whirlwind of energy. The girl is stunning, with strawberry-blond hair, blue eyes, and the kind of smile that doesn’t come from good dental work. She’s laughing as a boy next to her makes a joke, gesturing with his hands. He has a friendly face, dark skin, and curly black hair that he runs his hands through. I can’t hear myself over the simulation, but I gasp at the sight of them. It’s Jane Porter and Booker Ward. They are Oliver’s mom and stepfather, some twenty years ago. Of course they are. They were here too. They were part of the Ten.

“You two look like you’re having a rollicking good time.” Bianca smirks, forgetting all about the new boy as the duo approaches. “Want to let us in on the joke?”

The girl giggles. “Booker was just telling me the funniest story about…” She stops talking when Booker shoots her a look. It’s clear he doesn’t want her sharing his joke with the rest of the group.

“Oh, never mind,” she says, and I’m certain she is who I think she is. She has the same relaxed, happy expression I’ve seen on Jane’s face a thousand times. Only not since the thing that happened.

Jane flops down at the table next to Jaeger and across from Johnny.

“Jane Porter,” she says to him, holding out her hand for him to shake. “Resident bookworm and miscreant extraordinaire.”

Johnny appears surprised by the gesture, but quickly composes himself. “John Underwood. Everyone calls me Johnny. Except for your friend Bianca,” he adds. “She’s dubbed me the ‘new boy.’”

Bianca snorts. Zeke smacks her leg. They both laugh.

“That’s right,” Colin says as Jane smiles at Johnny, then digs into her dinner. “Johnny New Boy joins us from upstate New York.”

“What the—!” Jane shouts after swallowing her casserole. “What’s in this glorious mess? Dead snails?” She pushes away her tray. “Who wants to sneak down to Bertie’s Diner for some real food?”

“Count me in,” says Booker as he slides an arm around Jane. “Any of you kids wanna join? Or are you too chicken to play hooky?”

“It’s not that we’re chicken. We don’t want to watch the two of you make out any more than we have to,” scoffs Bianca.

This is all too painful—watching Jane and Booker so happy and carefree together. That changed after Oliver’s death. And yet, I want to watch. I have to.

“I’ll go,” says a quiet, determined voice. Everyone looks over at Johnny. “To Bertie’s. I’m in.”

Booker scowls. Jane grins. “We’ll pick you up at your room tonight. Nine p.m.”

“You know you’ll be breaking about ten school rules, right?” Zeke says.

Johnny shrugs. “So?”

“So you could lose your scholarship,” Zeke replies.

Johnny tenses at the word. “Who says I’m on a scholarship?”

“An educated guess,” Zeke says, staring at him.

“Hey,” says Jane. “Would you two shut up? They’re about to announce our strata.” With that, the view goes blank.

*

It’s dark. There’s enough light to see we’re outside, no longer in the dining hall. I squint to take in the scene. We’re behind one of the Darkwood dormitories. Two figures walk down the dimly lit path. As they get closer, I see it’s Jane Porter and Johnny Underwood.

Johnny walks with his hands in his pockets. He’s standing taller than before. His clothes fit him better, and he’s more confident. I wonder how much time has passed. Weeks? Months? I don’t have long to wonder.

“You can’t take half of what Zeke says seriously, you know,” Jane is saying.

“I don’t,” Johnny replies defensively.

“Then why do you care so much what he thinks? I’ve seen the way you act around him. Around all of them.”

“They’re my friends,” he says. “So I humor Zeke. Or tell Booker what he wants to hear.”

“Or compliment Bianca every chance you get? ‘Oh, B, you look really nice today,’” Jane mimics. “You know they’re not all that, right? They’re regular people, like you and me.”

“Like you, sure. You’re one of them.”