knowing,” I grumbled. It was a good movie—very popular among the Vegas population.
“Yes and no,” Elliot said. “No, you never will know exactly what cards your opponent’s holding. But you’ve got to make your best guess based on the cards you’re holding. Just eliminate any variable that you can, and then work backward from there. What would he or she need to beat you, and what’s the likelihood that he or she has it? You’re playing for percentages, not luck.”
I was a terrible math student. This did not bode well.
“So when do I bluff?” I asked. I was as horrible at bluffing as I was at algebra. Which wasn’t surprising, given how unconvincing I was at telling even the simplest little white lie to my father.
“When you’re pretty sure that their hand sucks at least as much as yours does,” Elliot said.
He made it sound so simple. And Iguess, in his mathematically minded brain, it was. You either had the cards, or you acted as if you had the cards. You either knew what your opponent had, or you acted as if you knew.
I didn’t need poker lessons, I needed acting lessons.
Unfortunately, Elliot wasn’t offering those.
Seven
The following Monday morning, I was surprised to find myself actually a little bit okay with waking up and heading to school. I mean, I wasn’t, like, doing cartwheels over it or anything, but the grouchiness that seemed to settle over me when the subject of Jesse, Alana, or anything related to them came up had abated somewhat. Which, I figured, was something.
I’d spent Sunday afternoon playing poker online—I found a site where you didn’t have to use real money—and though I hadn’t exactly cleaned house, I’d won a few hands. Which was way better than I’d done at Kelly’s apartment on poker night.
So I was feeling pretty good aboutmyself as I pulled up into the school parking lot. I had film class first period and was psyched to tell Elliot about my wins. I knew he’d appreciate any improvements I’d made, seeing as how I’d kept him a poolside prisoner for an entire afternoon. Kelly would be into it too, I was sure, since any improvements I made on my own game would up the potential competition of her poker night.
I walked brightly toward the front entrance to the school. I even hummed a little bit under my breath, much to my own embarrassment. But whatever, I was in a good mood and I deserved to dork out on my own if I was so inclined. I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and hoisted the huge double doors open. It was an effort, but that wasn’t what pulled all of the breath out of my lungs like a sucker punch to the solar plexus.
As the doors parted, I saw Jesse standing behind them.
He must have been coming from the office. Maybe he was getting permission to leave early, maybe he’d needed something from the principal’s secretary. It could have been anything, really. Once upon a time Iwould have known his schedule by heart, of course, but not anymore.
He looked cute. I hated to admit it to myself, but he did. He must’ve gotten a haircut over the weekend; I could tell from the rigid lines of his sideburns. Jesse always hated the way he looked immediately after a haircut, but something about the goofiness of it, that week before it had really grown in a bit, was super appealing to me.
He saw me at the exact moment that I saw him. There was no chance to dime-turn out of there, feigning oblivion. I recoiled, which must’ve confirmed for him that I was, in fact, aware of his presence.
His eyebrows shot up—twin question marks.
He opened his mouth as though he was about to say something.
I couldn’t imagine what he would say. A weak apology would only add insult to injury. A deep, sincere apology would probably mess with my head. And a non-apology might just about tear me up.
Right, then. Nothing good could come of an encounter.
I channeled whatever minute reserves ofenergy remained coiled deep within. It was much, much easier said than
“Yes and no,” Elliot said. “No, you never will know exactly what cards your opponent’s holding. But you’ve got to make your best guess based on the cards you’re holding. Just eliminate any variable that you can, and then work backward from there. What would he or she need to beat you, and what’s the likelihood that he or she has it? You’re playing for percentages, not luck.”
I was a terrible math student. This did not bode well.
“So when do I bluff?” I asked. I was as horrible at bluffing as I was at algebra. Which wasn’t surprising, given how unconvincing I was at telling even the simplest little white lie to my father.
“When you’re pretty sure that their hand sucks at least as much as yours does,” Elliot said.
He made it sound so simple. And Iguess, in his mathematically minded brain, it was. You either had the cards, or you acted as if you had the cards. You either knew what your opponent had, or you acted as if you knew.
I didn’t need poker lessons, I needed acting lessons.
Unfortunately, Elliot wasn’t offering those.
Seven
The following Monday morning, I was surprised to find myself actually a little bit okay with waking up and heading to school. I mean, I wasn’t, like, doing cartwheels over it or anything, but the grouchiness that seemed to settle over me when the subject of Jesse, Alana, or anything related to them came up had abated somewhat. Which, I figured, was something.
I’d spent Sunday afternoon playing poker online—I found a site where you didn’t have to use real money—and though I hadn’t exactly cleaned house, I’d won a few hands. Which was way better than I’d done at Kelly’s apartment on poker night.
So I was feeling pretty good aboutmyself as I pulled up into the school parking lot. I had film class first period and was psyched to tell Elliot about my wins. I knew he’d appreciate any improvements I’d made, seeing as how I’d kept him a poolside prisoner for an entire afternoon. Kelly would be into it too, I was sure, since any improvements I made on my own game would up the potential competition of her poker night.
I walked brightly toward the front entrance to the school. I even hummed a little bit under my breath, much to my own embarrassment. But whatever, I was in a good mood and I deserved to dork out on my own if I was so inclined. I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and hoisted the huge double doors open. It was an effort, but that wasn’t what pulled all of the breath out of my lungs like a sucker punch to the solar plexus.
As the doors parted, I saw Jesse standing behind them.
He must have been coming from the office. Maybe he was getting permission to leave early, maybe he’d needed something from the principal’s secretary. It could have been anything, really. Once upon a time Iwould have known his schedule by heart, of course, but not anymore.
He looked cute. I hated to admit it to myself, but he did. He must’ve gotten a haircut over the weekend; I could tell from the rigid lines of his sideburns. Jesse always hated the way he looked immediately after a haircut, but something about the goofiness of it, that week before it had really grown in a bit, was super appealing to me.
He saw me at the exact moment that I saw him. There was no chance to dime-turn out of there, feigning oblivion. I recoiled, which must’ve confirmed for him that I was, in fact, aware of his presence.
His eyebrows shot up—twin question marks.
He opened his mouth as though he was about to say something.
I couldn’t imagine what he would say. A weak apology would only add insult to injury. A deep, sincere apology would probably mess with my head. And a non-apology might just about tear me up.
Right, then. Nothing good could come of an encounter.
I channeled whatever minute reserves ofenergy remained coiled deep within. It was much, much easier said than
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