bottle out from the bottom drawer. He glances my way as he turns, but his attention doesn’t stick. He’s either good at pretending or detaching himself on purpose, trying not to get hurt.
What June said would be three minutes of time feels as if it stretches on for ten, but finally, she tells everyone to put their pencils down and she collects the papers. She begins reading the responses, and a lot of them are funny. This part of the game . . . it’s okay.
“Abby’s favorite time of day is any time that Abby is right,” June reads.
“That’s kind of true. Give that a half point,” I say.
“Score,” Lucas shouts, pulling in a fist pump.
My mom ends up getting the most right, even more than my best friend, which soothes me some, but I’m curious about the one paper that wasn’t turned in. I wonder if he tried at all.
“Okay, food is finally ready,” June’s mother announces.
Everyone files toward the table to collect plates and bowls so they can filter down the line and stuff themselves in my honor. Tory is near the front of the line, and I smile to myself at the sight of him filling a large bowl of menudo. He’ll love it. It’s impossible not to. Waiting my turn, I back up a few steps into the kitchen while nobody notices and walk my fingers over to the paper Tory tried to dismiss.
I pull it into my hand and open the fridge, bending down to act as if I’m getting a drink or searching for something down low. It’s silly that I feel like I have to hide just to read his answers, but I do. And as I read on, I’m even more certain.
He’s gotten every answer right. My favorite color is pink, but not just pink—pale pink. My favorite glitter cotton candy is jotted down. Sunsets are my favorite time of day, and my first crush was Peter Pan. I liked the idea of someone sweeping me away for an adventure. Hearing my name mentioned, I quickly fold the paper up small enough to tuck it in my hand and pull a water bottle out for myself, shutting the fridge and moving back into the room full of people.
“Do you want to tell everyone the right answers?” June asks. I discreetly stuff Tory’s paper into my purse and set my water down on the floor by the chair I’ve chosen to be my throne for the day.
“No, I think I like the mystery. Besides, maybe some of you have answers I like better.” My response gets a laugh, and Lucas pipes in to take credit for changing my mind on some things.
I fill my bowl with my mother’s soup, knowing this is probably the only other thing I will eat today and I will eat servings until it is gone. I take my seat again and nudge my purse under my chair with my foot, glancing up to see Tory staring at it. His eyes flit to mine and we lock gazes for a quiet moment when everyone else is too busy to notice.
“Thank you,” I mouth.
His lips curve up slightly at the corners and he blinks slowly with a careful nod. I don’t know how he knows me so well, but perhaps he’s been paying attention. I’m starting to wish I had been all along.
19
Tory
This is hard. Loving a girl is hard. I’m in love with a girl, with Abby Cortez.
And it is fucking hard.
My brother and I drove in separate cars this morning. We left the house a minute apart, to give each other space. It’s all starting to feel so trivial. And wasteful. Gas is expensive.
Something has to get figured out between me and Hayden before our game tonight. I’ve never actually seen Coach this upset at us. At other guys? Sure. But Hayd and I are exceptions. I guess getting away with four years of shit is finally catching up to us. Either that, or maybe this time our problems are too much for a team to take.
We play St. Agnes today. It’s a big game, the first in our division. If we can run up the score against them, we have a good chance of taking the holiday tournament and maybe coming out the top seed in our division for state. We won’t beat St. Agnes if Hayden and I aren’t in sync, and it’s less about the team and more about how much it’s affecting me emotionally.