for the fact Abby and I don’t really hang on our own, though. It’s always been in groups. When June and Lucas were going through their shit, Abby and I were the co-pilots, steering those two together. That’s when my feelings got all fuckin’ weird, too.
I pay the cart guy four bucks for the same chicken burrito, chips and drink I’ve been buying at this school for four years, then pull my phone from my pocket when it buzzes. I balance the cardboard food box in my other hand.
It’s a text from Hayden.
Hey, totally forgot about this SAT thing. Tell Abby for me?
I was prepared for this. I type back my nonchalant response.
Got it.
Abby is sitting in her usual spot, the one in the far corner of the cafeteria where the windows meet and the sun peeks through the trees. She’s pulled her knees up on the bench and keeps glancing over her shoulder, out the window, probably wondering where Hayden is. She’s usually surrounded by people—Lola, Naomi, June, Lucas . . . me and my brother. She’s become the top of the pyramid in our social structure, the one who isn’t afraid to speak her mind and who would speak up for her friends in a heartbeat. I’m not sure where I fall in that hierarchy. I can’t say she’d get in someone’s face to defend me, but then again, I don’t need her to. I’m pretty quick to handle my own defense.
“Seat taken?” It’s not even clever, and she calls me on it with a look that says I’m a fucking dumbass. I straddle the bench on the other end from her, leaving a solid six feet of distance between us, and plop my wrapped burrito down between my knees.
“They’re all in that SAT meeting,” I say.
“Yeah, I know.” She shrugs and pops one of the chips from her bag in her mouth.
I nod, suddenly kicked off the map of what I should say next.
“Cool.” That’s what comes out.
“You really sticking with that nine-eighty?”
I glance up at her with one raised brow and breathe out a laugh. I wonder how this became our way with each other—little digs, barbs and insults until enough of them add up to equal a conversation.
“Well, I mean, it’s no eleven-eighty.” I hold my palms up, arms out, beating her to her punchline.
“It sure the fuck isn’t.” Her eyes do that little righteous flutter with her words. I laugh it off and turn my focus to my burrito.
She continues to take nibbles at her chips, pushing the bread around from her sandwich. Meanwhile, I bear down and chomp about half of my burrito in three bites. A worry line seems to be permanently pressed into her forehead, and I stare at it for several seconds until she glances up and meets my glare.
“What’s up with you?” I say through a full mouth.
She glowers.
“Nothing.” Her short clipped answer is irritable, and it’s also a lie.
“Come on. I’m good at listening,” I say. I actually am. I rarely say shit that matters to people because sharing my thoughts and feelings is uncomfortable. It’s turned me into a really good free therapist. Lucas unloads on me constantly.
Abby chews through a few more bites while she studies me with her bullshit meter running full blast. She finally gives in and disposes of her half-eaten meal in the crumpled-up paper it came in and slides a few feet closer to me on the bench. We’re facing each other, her feet flat on the wood in front of me. I note the red heart doodled on the side of her right Van and the broken version drawn on the left. I feel like there’s a story there.
“I turn eighteen in two weeks. I’ve had that date circled on my calendar for years because it’s supposed to mean that the bullshit back-and-forth stuff between my parents, which has really only been about money, stops. It’s supposed to mean I decide where I go, with whom, when and what my business amounts to. But—”
Abby’s mouth pulls tight as she shrugs. My stomach sinks with sympathy.
“Eighteen means you’re an adult though, right?” I shift in my seat, moving my foot up to the table so I can scoot a little closer. I’m not doing it for predatory reasons, which I think Abby might suspect given the way she just tucked her knees tighter into her chest. I’m doing it to make our bubble smaller, so she can talk and share without the