Never Always Sometimes - Adi Alsaid Page 0,41

those scuffed sneakers of

all things. How every now and then she’d stare off into the distance, or chew on her pen, or examine her split ends, then slowly come to again.

When Gretchen caught him looking, she smiled and he smiled

back, embarrassed, looking away for a while. He studied the secret

life of legs beneath the desks. The jittering and stretching, the

rearranging for comfort, laps used as support for hidden devices and

hidden books. He wondered what people were thinking about as the

end of the year approached, if they had little to-do lists of their own, if they had love lives punctuated by ellipses, by question marks, if

they had any love lives at all. Then his eyes would slowly return to

Gretchen’s scuffed sneakers and it was hard not follow them up. It

made him happy just to look at her, and he had the urge to text her

that message from across the room, but for some reason, he held back.

She was a constant snacker, on quartered oranges and potato chips

and little Tupperware containers full of salad or trail mix. She didn’t

seem to know everyone’s name, which was probably why Dave used to

think of her as somehow elitist. But the more he took note, the more

he came to the conclusion that she was simply less focused, dreamier

than he’d realized.

The turn of her head, how she met people’s eyes, her constant

smile. Her neighbors were often flirting with her, no matter their

social circle. Guys would try to steal her sunglasses or her notebook

and she would take it in stride, hiding her annoyance. At one point

she got bored and puffed her cheeks out, playing with them as her

group members argued about something or another. It was adorable,

and Dave wondered how he’d failed to notice that little habit before.

One of his biggest pet peeves was people who were shitty whisperers,

and it was a strange satisfaction when Gretchen whispered something

and he couldn’t hear it at all. And this girl was coming over to his

house that night.

DAVE 137

The PA system buzzed, snapping Dave from his reverie. It was

the garbled voice of Leslie Winters, the senior class president. “Good

morning, SLO High!” she called out. “I’ve got some exciting news

for this year’s senior class. The ballots for prom king and queen have

been tallied up, and I’m happy to announce the contenders. For prom

queen . . .” She started listing the candidates, and Dave caught Gretchen flashing a smile at him. On their date, they’d talked a little bit about the tree house, since Gretchen had seen the video like everyone else.

Dave hadn’t gone much into the details, but he had mentioned the

Nevers to her, the fact that the prom king campaign was sort of like

Julia’s tree house idea. “And for prom king, the ballot will list: Carl

Alvarez, Hugh Corners, James Everett, David Gutierrez, and Paul

Rott. Congratulations, candidates, and see you at prom!”

After school, Julia was waiting for Dave by her car, one fist raised in

the air.

“How long have you been holding that pose?” he asked as he

approached.

“Since the moment you won,” Julia said.

“Dork.”

“You mispronounced champion, badass.” She lowered her arm,

smile beaming. The Nevers list was in her hand. “Time to cross

another one off!”

“Six to go,” Dave said, tossing his backpack into her car.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling invincible.”

138 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES

“What did Marroney say about the cupcakes?”

“Oh, we had a sub today,” Julia said. She lowered the top on her

car and slid into the driver’s seat, plugging in her phone to play some

music. “Turns out he’s in Arizona for some sort of conference. It

might send some mixed signals when he returns home to a plate of

rotting, ant-infested cupcakes, but nothing’s getting me down today.”

“That man is going to get nightmares because of you.”

“Sexy nightmares, maybe.” Julia looked at her phone. “Ooh, perfect

celebration music.” She hit play and the opening chords of “Blister in

the Sun” came on. Julia started dancing in her seat. “Harbor?” she

asked between lyrics.

“Just for a bit. I’ve got an AP Chem group-study thing,” Dave

said. Then, feeling guilty about his word choice, he added, “That girl

Gretchen is coming over at seven.”

“Plenty of time,” Julia said, taking the admission without a hint

of suspicion. She turned up the music and shifted the car into drive,

taking them down Highway 1 toward the coast, shouting the lyrics

out at the top of her lungs. Instead of going to the harbor, though,

Julia kept driving north along the Pacific Ocean, the mood too

celebratory to stop the car. It was a beautiful drive, and Dave would

never tire of it. That highway made you feel like no