gonna buy hers.”
He hardly looked at Hen or Avani, and instead buzzed around my left side, asking if I’d ever seen these movies, which of course left the other two off by themselves, struggling to talk.
I could tell they were dying inside, and if only I was a better person—somebody stronger, more confident and interesting—I would’ve used our time in line to crack jokes and bring us together, but instead we waited in silence.
The first show was sold out, so we had to buy tickets for an hour later. We stood in line for smoothies, then sat languidly in the food court, right in the sun, because all the shady tables were taken, and Avani abandoned us immediately, glomming onto a nearby group of girls, standing over them chatting and smiling while the three of us stared helplessly.
“Do you know them?” I said.
“No,” Hen said.
“I don’t think they go to our school.”
“They could.”
“Well they’re not in the, uhh”—Dave looked at me—“the Ninety-Nine.”
My eyes widened. Although I loved that term, it also embarrassed me. I didn’t want Hen to know I thought about that stuff. But Henry was lost inside the phone on his lap.
I spotted Mari first and waved urgently at her. Her footsteps were short but quick, and she threw open her arms, crashing into me. “Oh, hey! You again!” Then she slid into the bench.
Looking at our drinks, she said, “Wait, I should get a smoothie too.” Just as quickly, she hopped up and stood by herself.
Both Hen and I looked at Dave.
“Well . . . ?” Hen said.
“Uhh, yeah, you should go with her,” I whispered.
“Wouldn’t that be awkward?” Dave said.
“It’s more awkward to sit here.”
“And buy it for her!” Hen whispered loudly. As Dave left, Hen batted his eyelashes at me. “Straight girls love that, right?”
“Doesn’t everybody? I mean you liked when I bought your ticket, right?”
“Yeah, but only in the way I like free stuff. Not in an extra ‘confirming our respective gender roles’ way.”
I inspected Hen’s perfect face. I didn’t feel anything for him. I imagined him naked, imagined the two of us together, and it wasn’t gross or anything, but then I looked at Avani, standing half in the sunlight and half out, with her bare legs shining, and her image tugged at my eyes and at my heart in a way that Hen’s body couldn’t match.
Hen was still tapping at his phone, and I was still mired in dread. Nothing would save this situation. It was beyond awkward. I needed to say or do something immediately.
“Uhh,” I said. “You’re really funny. That was funny, the gender-roles thing.”
He looked up, his eyebrows quirking a little bit. “Thanks,” he said. “That’s nice.”
“Well . . . are you gonna say something nice about me?”
“Hmm . . . I . . .” His eyes dropped, then rose. “I like your pants.”
I looked at my shorts, which were bright orange. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”
“You have very good taste in pants. Not just these ones. Many of your pants are excellent.”
“Hmm, but not my shirts.”
“No, very average, the shirts.”
He said this completely deadpan, and his face didn’t twitch even when I laughed. I took half a breath, expecting him to loosen up, but his eyes returned to his phone. I wanted to snatch it up and smash it on the ground. Hen’s cleverness was actually a burden on everybody else: he relied on us to provide the setup for these clever jabs that systematically disrupted the flow of conversation.
“Who’re you texting?”
“Oh—” He put down his phone. “Nobody.”
“What?” I said. “A crush?”
“Uhhh, no. It’s my brother.”
His angry tone surprised me. “Did I say something wrong?”
“N-no.” He shrugged. “You’re fine.”
“Hey, uhh, how—” I stopped. Hen hated that question: How did you know you were gay? He always asked, How did you know you were straight? Which I thought was stupid, because lots of people didn’t know they were straight.
“So . . .” My mouth made an O. “Last night I might’ve hooked up with a guy.”
Hen’s eyes narrowed. “Hmm . . . what exactly are we talking about? A kiss?”
“I might possibly have gone down on him.”
“Nandan!” he said. “Whoa!”
“Quiet,” I said. “Jesus.”
“Sorry. But I really wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
Now his voice was almost too low. In the distance Avani looked up as her social sensors registered the slight change in dynamic at our table.
“What’d you think it would be?” I said.
“I don’t know. That you lost a bet and had to make out with Ken?