telling them about Somebody/Nobody. I wish I could explain how “talking” to him is so easy the words flow in a way they never do when I have to talk out loud. I also wouldn’t mind some help figuring out who he is. Then again, maybe I don’t want to know. SN may be right: the not knowing is what keeps us connected. It would be so much harder writing to someone I knew I’d see the next day. And I wonder if it works the other way too. Even though he knows who I am, maybe not having to face me makes the conversation flow for him as well.
Of course, Agnes is wrong—words are no less courageous for having been written rather than spoken—and I’m all set to say that to her, out loud and with conviction, when I hear my name being yelled from across the cafeteria.
“Jessie!” At first, I assume the voice is calling someone else—on account of my having no friends at this school—but the voice is so insistent, and even vaguely familiar, that I look up. Shaggy hair and a smile.
“Hey, Jessie,” Liam says, now next to our table, having jogged over with Earl again thrown over his shoulder. He pushes his bangs out of his eyes and then points to his forehead. “How’s the wound?”
“Almost gone. But if you bring that guitar any closer, I’m going to have to get a restraining order,” I say, which even to my own ears almost sounds like flirting. I blush. I don’t know how to flirt. I always feel like an impostor. And I don’t even want to flirt with Liam. He’s kind of my boss.
“Ha. Listen, we’re still on for training this afternoon, right? Expect to be there till closing.”
“Sure. Thanks again for the job. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Least I could do after maiming you.” He smiles, then does this strange little arm-punch thing, which actually kind of hurts, and then hurries off, Earl flopping behind him.
“Shut the front door.” Dri grabs my hand in a vise grip. “How do you know Liam Sandler?” she asks. Her eyebrows practically touch her hairline. “No effin’ way. Liam. Sandler.”
“Relax. He’s not Ryan Gosling.” Agnes rolls her eyes at Dri. “I’ll never understand what you like about him.”
Dri ignores her. Waits for me to answer.
“I got a job at his mom’s bookstore, basically because he hit me in the head with his guitar case. Embarrassing but true.”
“And?” Dri says.
“And what?”
“And everything.”
“And everything like…”
“What did he say? What did you say? Can you introduce me? Have you heard his band? Oh. My. God. Orgasmville.”
“Ew,” I say. “I mean, he’s not bad, but really?”
“No, that’s his band’s name. Orgasmville.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup. And he is. That. Cute. You have to see him onstage. I’ve been, like, in love with him for forever. He’s never said a word to me. Not one. Until right now.”
“He didn’t technically say anything to you,” Agnes informs her.
“He spoke in my vicinity, which is more than he’s spoken to me in the last two years. I’ll take it,” Dri says, and tightens her grip on my hand. That hurts too. “Eeeeee!”
“He has a girlfriend,” Agnes says, and I wonder about her need to piss all over Dri’s parade. If Pete McManning, the senior Scar was obsessed with all of freshman year, had ever talked within her vicinity, I would have squeed right along with her, even though I never quite got Scar’s interest in him. I can’t handle a wispy mustache, even if it’s for the hipster cause.
“Whatever. Gem can kiss my ass.”
“He’s dating Gem?” I ask, and realize just how much I have to catch up on. I know nothing about this school. Forget the honor code; there should be a book that chronicles all this stuff. So, Liam and Gem. Huh. If I had thought about it, I would have figured Liam might have a girlfriend, but I wouldn’t have paired him with Gem. And not because she’s hot—he’s the type to have a beautiful girlfriend—but because she’s nasty. I had him pegged as better than that.
“I know, right? It’s the only thing I don’t like about him,” Dri says.
“Dri is, like, totally obsessed with him. Literally obsessed. She even took up the ukulele to get him to notice her. Hashtag fail.”
“I went through a twee phase. Whatever,” Dri says to me, and gives me a hug. “Arrgghh! You are now my favorite person in the world.”
I smile. Pretend not to notice Agnes’s dirty look.