Amanda whispers into Steve’s ear. I feel her smirking at me, and my face burns.
Steve clears his throat. “Cheeseburger.”
Chapter eleven
You owe me five bucks,” I say.
Rashmi smiles. “I’l buy your movie ticket.”
At least we’re on the same team. Nicole divided up Nate’s list, so Rashmi and I went out on our own. The week shouldn’t be too bad. Because of
Rashmi, I’l actual y earn class credit. She let me take some of the pictures—a statue of some guy named Budé and a group of kids playing footbal in the street—even though she was the one who found both items.
“I miss footbal .” Meredith pouts as we tell her our story. Even her springy curls look limp and sad tonight.
A breeze whips down the broad avenue, and we hold our jackets tight and shiver. A dusting of brown leaves crunches underneath our feet as Paris
hovers on the edge of autumn. “Isn’t there some league you can join or something?” Josh asks, putting his arm around Rashmi. She burrows into him. “I
see people playing around here all the time.”
“Boo!” A familiar disheveled head pops between Mer and me, and we jump like startled cats.
“Jeez,” Mer says. “Give me a heart attack.What are you doing here?”
“It Happened One Night,” St. Clair says. “Le Champo, right?”
“Don’t you have plans with El ie?” Rashmi asks.
“Am I not invited?” He wedges his way between Meredith and me.
“Of course you’re invited,” Mer says. “We just assumed you’d be busy.”
“You’re always busy,” Rashmi says.
“I’m not always busy.”
“You are,” she says. “And you know what’s weird? Mer’s the only one who’s even seen Ellen this year. Is she too good for us now?”
“Aw, get off it. Not this again.”
She shrugs. “I’m just saying.”
St. Clair shakes his head, but it doesn’t escape our notice that he doesn’t deny it. El ie may be friendly enough in person, but it’s clear she no longer needs her SOAP friends. Even I can see that.
“What do you guys even do every night?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
“It,” Rashmi says. “They do it. He’s ditching us to screw.”
St. Clair blushes. “You know, Rash, you’re as crude as those stupid juniors on my floor. Dave what’s-his-name and Mike Reynard. God, they’re arses.”
Mike Reynard is Dave-from-French-and-history’s best friend. I didn’t know they lived next to him.
“Watch it, St. Clair,” Josh says.There’s an edge in his normal y relaxed demeanor.
Rashmi whips into St. Clair’s face. “Are you cal ing me an ass?”
“No, but if you don’t back off, I bloody might.”