graduated from Keaton last year. Apparently Eric was a perfect Keaton specimen: chemistry genius, all-star lacrosse player, but more prankster than Stepford Student. (“Keaton values individualism”—The Month’s words. Uttered seriously.) Jason and Eric’s very rich and very generous father, William, had also attended Keaton. June had whispered the last part conspiratorially: Rumor had it that the new science wing built three years ago existed solely because Jason’s dad wanted better chemistry facilities for Eric.
Jason grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. Threw it up in the air and caught it. “You know, for the organ donations. That’s what we’re here for. A big bunch of young, unsuspecting organ donors. Gotta feed the machine somehow.” He took a big bite from his apple. “So, like I said, they want to keep us healthy.”
Devon put herself in Ariel’s shoes. The smart thing to do would be to play along.
“Silly me. Here I was thinking they were shaping us into well-rounded young adults.”
“Bor-ring,” Jason drew out the word as long as possible. “That’s what they want us to think. Looks much better for the catalogues.” He examined his apple and took another oversized bite. Some of the apple juice dribbled down his chin and onto his white V-neck shirt. Devon had to look down to hide her smile. Jason had just blown whatever cool image he was trying to create. But honestly, it was the first time she’d caught anyone doing anything remotely human all week. “You’ve got it all worked out then. Good thing I ran into you … Jason, right?”
Jason held Devon’s gaze longer than was comfortable. “Yeah, good thing,” he said.
Devon instinctively took a small step back. She had seen that look-into-your-soul look before. Last summer Ariel made Devon double date with these guys that worked at Amoeba Records, Luke and Spencer. Devon was supposed to date Spencer, but he wouldn’t stop talking about “the importance of The Clash in music evolution.” Talk about bor-ring. She remembered that he kept staring into her eyes, willing her to like him back. It was the same look Jason was giving her now. He was definitely flirting with her. Devon broke away from the stare by brushing her hair out of her eyes. She was bad at flirting. Her over-analytical brain crept in. He didn’t ask her name. Clearly he knew. Now she was the lame one for asking the question. “Well, guess I’m not going to get that milk, so, see ya, Jason.” Devon put her empty pitcher down next to the machine and made a beeline for the exit.
“Hutch. Jason’s … whatever.… Hutch is really more my thing,” Jason-turned-Hutch called after her.
Devon turned only when she reached the doors.
“Gotcha, Hutch. Well, good luck with the organs.”
“Are those Nutter Butters?” Hutch asked with a smirk.
The package was sticking out of her pocket. Great. Now it looks like I can’t go anywhere without bringing cookies with me.
“You gonna eat those all by yourself?” Hutch left his apple on the countertop and began rubbing his palms together like a cartoon villain.
“Why, you want one?” Devon asked. Save one for Derek. How right her mom was. She made a mental note to thank her later.
“Hells yeah.” Hutch was next to her in a heartbeat, reaching for the bag. “Wait, sorry, that was rude of me. You should do the honors.”
He pushed the bag back, eager for her to open it. There was nothing in Hutch’s face that made Devon feel like they had just met or needed to be on their guard.
Amazing: her first Insta-Friend. Not from a sponge pellet, either. She tugged at the plastic, but stopped short of opening it.
“That brings me back to the original problem,” Devon started. “You can’t do Nutter Butters without milk. It’s a thing.”
Hutch raised his eyebrows. “Oh, it’s a thing?”
“It’s a thing. Like peanut butter and jelly.”
“Like Simon and Garfunkel?”
“Yeah. Like Rocky and Road.”
“Or like orientation week and sucking.” Hutch smiled wide at his own joke.
Devon laughed.
“Let’s get some milk then,” Hutch said mischievously.
“The machine is locked. Think we already established that,” Devon reminded him.
“This machine is. But where do you think they store the milk for the machine?”
Devon found herself smiling, again, too. What did he know that she didn’t?
“Come on. If it’s a thing, then we gotta go on a mission to make the thing happen.” Hutch grabbed Devon’s hand and pulled her through the doors. “That’s just what was missing tonight. A secret mission.…”
Devon’s thoughts were louder than Hutch’s words. His long fingers clasped