shrugs, looking a little sheepish. “You wanna try some?”
“No! Why did you bring it to school?”
“I don’t know. I guess I forgot about it. Oh, don’t look so worried.”
“But you could get in trouble. Whatever, never mind.” Kate sighs and rubs her eyes. “Let’s just get lunch.”
Kate gets her food first, a helping of white rice with some grilled chicken, and sits down at a small table in the middle of the restaurant. Even though Dom orders after Sean, he sits down first, since Sean is busy filling a fountain drink.
“So, I know it isn’t any of my business,” he says. “But I just wanted to say, if Sean really had a crush on your friend, I think it would be more obvious.”
“Obvious how?” Kate asks.
“Obvious like—okay, don’t tell Devon I told you this, but for the past week and a half he’s been pretty much infatuated with this girl. He even got one of the old yearbooks and blew up a photo of her, that he taped to his wall.”
Kate’s eyes widen. “Wait, who is it?”
“I shouldn’t say. Devon would kill me if he knew I told you. Besides, my point is—a real crush makes people act crazy. They say things they normally wouldn’t, they do things they really shouldn’t. If Sean had a crush on your friend, you’d be able to see it.”
“But…“ Kate frowns, her attention on the revelation about Devon “What if your brother does something bad to the person he’s ‘crushing’ on?”
“Pfft. He wouldn’t.”
“But that sounds really dangerous! Like stalker-ish!”
“Calm down. I’m sorry I told you.”
Sean sits down, a full cup of coke in his hands. “What are you so worked up about, Kate? Our thing, still?”
“No, I wanna know who Devon has a ‘crush’ on.”
“Well, I’m not gonna tell you,” Dom says. “Just forget I said anything.”
“What if it’s Hannah though! She just broke up with him. What if he goes crazy and like shoots up the school or something?”
Dom gives Kate an are-you-serious look. “It’s just a picture. Look, he’s not some psycho. But, just for your information, it isn’t Hannah.”
Kate grits her teeth. “Okay, I’ll just try to forget you said it.”
Chapter Eight
“Hey, Maddie!” Aude holds out a stapled packet. “Here’s our speech. I spent like two hours typing it up. I added a few things too, but you can skip them if you don’t like them.”
Maddie thumbs through the pages. “This sounds a lot like my speech from last year.”
“Yeah, it’s supposed to. I only borrowed a few sentences from last year.” And a few from Jenna’s old speeches. And even one from Jules. Only a third of the speech is truly original, but the students who would notice have already graduated.
“This is pretty good. Thanks.” She frowns, looking a little sad.
“Did you find out about the Patriots?”
Maddie nods. Aude doesn’t even have to ask the result; if Maddie had made the squad, she’d be ecstatic. “I should’ve let you talk to Mrs. Davis for me,” Maddie says. “She pulled me out of class seventh period, and told me that I just wasn’t ‘quite good enough.’”
“Aw, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Audrey pulls her friend into a tight hug. “You’ll win class president, though. This year’s yours.”
“You
M. J. Rose
Chuck Klosterman
Marty Steere
Donald E. Westlake
Giacomo Puccini, David Belasco
Carol Antoinette Peacock
Darrien Lee
Various
Margaret Daley
John Cheever