took me to The Loft.
The Loft is a cute little bistro-type place in the Square. Mom thought it would be fun to sneak me out of school for some girls' time. It was a blast to hang with her and eat the smoked Gouda and spinach omelet that was absolutely to die for—nummsies.
>Sweet! U'll never beeleeve CL.
I sigh hard and move my thumbs over the tiny keyboard.
>Got her bitch back on?
>No. Invited me and TT to sit w/her.
>Serious?
>As a heart attack.
>Almost 2 class. Talk l8r!
I walk into Ms. Pritchard's classroom, full of students milling about before the late bell sounds. I make my way over to my seat and try to calm the nerves that have sprung to life inside of me.
Soon, Courtney bounces in, clinging to Jim Roach's arm. She's all smiles and laughs, and the sullen pallor is gone from her cheeks. She seems well rested and ... back to her popular self. Oh, boy. With a wave to Jim, she eases down the aisle between desks, stepping over Sean's still-cast leg. She sits right next to me.
"Hey," she says, not making eye contact.
I bite my bottom lip. "Hey."
Courtney pulls out a book and notepad from her Prada messenger bag and then picks through a plethora of pens before selecting a specific blue uni-ball.
All right. This is stupid. Why am I shaking like a leaf? What do I think she's going to do, draw on me? I have nothing to fear but fear itself. Course, Franklin Delano Roosevelt never dealt with the likes of Courtney Langdon.
Here I go. "Are you ... okay? You know. From Saturday?"
She waves her hand in the air, as if dismissing everything that happened at Stephanie's. "Everything's fine. I'd rather we not ever discuss that. Like, ever."
I sit up tall. "Umm, sure. I just thought..."
Thought what? That she'd apologize for the last two months of torture? That we might be friends somehow? That she might actually thank me, now that she's not under the influence of a spirit or exhausted after expelling it? I guess some people just never change.
Then Courtney knocks the earth off its axis. She withdraws a report; it's sheathed in a clear cover, black binding, and a nice vinyl backing. The best work from the Radisson Staples down the street. She plops the report on my desk, then claps her hands together like it's first-and-ten.
And she actually smiles at me.
"What's this?"
"So I had some time on Sunday and I thought I'd put together all of our notes on the piglet."
I thumb through the report and see that all of our forms are filled out, as well as the discussion questions on our findings during the dissection. What is this? Courtney finished our project on her own. "This is ... amazing."
She tosses her long hair over her shoulder. "I thought so too. We're totally going to get an A on this project. Did you see the charts I did in the back, where we cataloged everything? Nothing like a little extra effort, huh?"
I hand it back to her. "I can't take credit for this. You did all the work."
She frowns; her perfectly plucked eyebrows form a V on her head. "We both did the work. I just put it all together. No big."
"But you did everything."
Courtney passes the report over to me again. Her eyes tighten and she focuses on me. "No, Kendall. You did everything."
I don't have to be a psychic to understand the meaning of her words. This is Courtney's way of thanking me for helping her. She's, like, making that grand gesture without having to goo or gush over it.
"Oh. Oh! Well, you know. I do what I do," I say with a half smile.
"You do what you're destined to do," she adds. Then she lays her hand on mine and kind of squeezes. It's not an eternal bond of friendship and we'll never be BFFs; however, an understanding passes between us, like a whispered secret.
My skin heats and my nerves finally relax. "Thanks, Courtney. We're gonna be just fine."
Right before class starts, she leans over and says, "So RHS homecoming is in a week."
Intrigued, I say, "I've heard." I don't think she'll necessarily be on the homecoming court, after her last couple weeks of performances and disappearances at school.
"I'm having a hay ride after the pep rally and bonfire on the Thursday before the game." She hesitates for a minute and then clears her throat. "You and Jason should, like, come along with us. Okra's bringing his