Jamie and I were racing toward it like we were taking back Helm’s Deep in The Two Towers. Behind us, everyone began to rise slowly from their desks and mosey over.
“Can we do climate change?” Jamie asked.
“No,” I said. I knew Jamie would get to argue the progressive side of any issue we took, and I did not want to be stuck pretending the earth wasn’t obviously melting.
“Abortion?”
“Ehhhh.”
“Guns?”
I made a face.
Jamie sighed, and wrote our names under Federal Legalization of Marijuana, the least awful of our many awful options. Then we stood back and watched the rest of the sheet fill up. Ruby and I exchanged eye rolls, and I felt Jamie notice. Ruby was partnered with Hailey Metcalfe, who was so excited about it she looked like she might levitate off the floor.
When everyone was signed up we returned to our seats, and Mr. Haggerty peeled the sheet off the whiteboard. He read off the groups and their corresponding presentation dates.
Guess which group Mr. Haggerty chose to go first, the next Tuesday. Here’s a hint: after a two-second delay, the stoners groaned and sank into their seats. I could feel Jamie growing more and more smug behind me, until climate change was called dead last. When the bell rang and the luckier groups pranced out of the classroom, Jamie hovered by my desk as I packed up my things. I prepared for her I told you so. I’d tell her I preferred our competition to the try-hards who chose climate change. But I didn’t end up needing to. All Jamie said was “When do you have time to work on this?” Knowing Jamie, I couldn’t very well say what I wanted, which was Monday night.
“I could probably do tomorrow night,” I said. “After practice.”
“Triple Moon?”
I nodded.
By then we were standing alone together in the hallway, and there was nothing else to do but pretend I had to pee so I wouldn’t have to walk next to her. We both knew there was nothing else safe for us to talk about.
* * *
—
I hadn’t been to Triple Moon since the Sweets show, which was a long time for me. When Dee saw me walk through the door she crossed her arms in front of her chest so the script tattooed along her outer forearms looked like one long, menacing sentence.
“Who the hell are you?” she teased.
“I know,” I said. I wanted to say I missed you, but I’d never said anything so explicitly affectionate to Dee before, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself. So instead I said, “I missed it.”
“Well, it missed you, clearly,” she said, gesturing broadly at the all-but-empty coffee shop. Besides me, there was only one other customer, a college kid with a blue mullet I’d seen dozens of times in the exact position they were in now: one leg pulled up to rest against the table and the other bouncing against the seat, a graphic novel pressed almost flush against their face. Two glasses holding milky, melting ice sat on the table. Two drinks is basically the same as two customers, I thought. I wished I had more money so I could stuff a twenty-dollar bill or two into the tip jar when Dee wasn’t looking, but I had exactly eight dollars in my wallet, which was only enough to leave three.
“Iced vanilla?” Dee asked, and for a second I worried she’d been reading my mind. I nodded. Dee took my five-dollar bill without looking at me, and I stuffed my ones into the tip jar when she turned to the espresso machine. When she set my drink on the counter I looked at it instead of her and asked, “Are you guys doing okay?”
Dee paused for so long I was forced to look up. She leaned against the back counter and crossed her arms once again. But it was different this time, the script on her arms looking more like a lyric to the world’s saddest song. I realized I’d never asked her what the tattoos actually said. They were in Latin,