obviously, so eventually she uses her sandwich to wipe it off and then licks the glob off the bread.
“That is disgusting,” I say.
She just grins and takes another bite.
I dig into my sandwich too. It’s Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, pickles, and olives. Not what I would have chosen, but I only have a few minutes left of my break and I’m suddenly starving.
“Tell me something about yourself,” Joni says.
I swallow the bite of hero in an attempt to force down the lump that’s risen in my throat. “What do you want to know?”
She shrugs. “I dunno, basic stuff.”
Basic stuff I can do. “All right, shoot.”
“How did you get this?” She points to the thin scar that cuts through my left eyebrow.
My stomach twists, and I shake my head. I’ve never told anyone that story—not even Meg. At the time, it was her scars that were more important. In particular the one on the back of her thigh, where they extracted a big chunk of skin and tissue around her cancerous mole. “More basic.”
“More basic than that?”
“Yup.”
She sighs. “Okay. What’s your last name?”
“Brooks. What’s yours?”
“Ríos. How old are you?”
“Seventeen. You?”
“Seventeen.”
That surprises me. I thought she was older for some reason. “When’s your birthday?” I ask.
“March 6. You?”
“March 6!”
Joni’s eyes get huge and she sits up straighter in her seat. “Are you serious?!”
I burst out laughing. “No. It’s actually January 13. That would have been crazy though, right?”
She throws a tomato from her sandwich at me. “You jerk.”
I peel the tomato off my shoulder and eat it. It feels good to joke around like this. “Moving on. Where do you go to school?”
“Clinton Central.” That explains why I’ve never seen her before—Clinton’s a few towns away from Whole Foods in the opposite direction of Downey. “And you go to…let me guess…Haverford Prep.”
I almost choke on my last bite of sandwich. “Why the hell would you think that?”
She studies me. “You strike me as one of those angsty, life-is-so-hard, privileged types whose daddy is making him work a part-time job to learn the value of a dollar. Why else would you be so miserable all the time?”
My good mood burns a fiery death. “You really don’t know what you’re talking about.” I push back my chair and toss the hero wrapper in the garbage. “My break’s over. Thanks for the sandwich, but please just leave me alone from now on, okay?”
I don’t know what I was thinking when I thought I could be friends with this girl. I’d wanted it to be different, to have someone fun to talk to and hang out with who wouldn’t look at me with pity. But she’s just as judgmental as everyone else.
Finding someone you can really connect with is like winning the fucking lottery—it happens basically never, but if it does, you really shouldn’t blow it.
• • •
May 23.
“How are you feeling?” Ryden asked me the moment I hopped off the school bus this morning.
The first thought I had was that he’d found out about the cancer. Panic. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean? You were out sick yesterday, right? And there was that whole running-out-of-English incident the day before?”
Relief. “I’m better now. Thanks.”
“Good.”
I know I’m not supposed to think about him. No more crush. Focus on school. That’s what’s important.
I started to walk again, but he caught my arm. “Meg.”
I know this would probably sound crazy if I ever said it out loud to anyone, except maybe Mabel, but I think that was the best moment of my life so far. Because I’ve never felt anything as good as when our skin first touched. It was like time stopped. Heat passed between us like fire when his hand clasped my wrist. Okay, maybe not fire, but something really, really hot.
“Go to the dance with me tomorrow?”
Every possible answer went through my mind: Yes. No. I can’t.
I broke eye contact and looked down at my feet. Someone’s old Math II quiz was being pushed along the ground by a mild gust of wind. It was crinkly, like it had been wet and then dried in the sun. There were footprints all over it. It had been through so much, but it was still here.
“Ryden…”
“Don’t say no. Just come with me tomorrow, and if you don’t have fun, I promise I’ll never bother you again.”
There was a little tremor in his voice when he said the word “bother.” I really wanted to say yes.