“Because of you.”
Ryan laughs. “It wasn’t a hardship. In case you didn’t notice, in junior high, I had exactly one friend, who was sick that day.”
I remember. “Then Phillip moved to Cleveland. Do you talk to him much?”
“Online sometimes.” Ryan slings an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get to lunch.”
People act like we’ve been dating for two years, but in fact, he’s never asked me out. Early on, I obsessed over it, trying to decide if he like liked me, but eventually we settled into a comfortable routine. Now he’s my best friend; since I got my laptop, we’re always on Skype when we aren’t together, but I can’t imagine making out with him anymore.
We stand in line, so I can get what passes for a veggie entree at this school, macaroni and cheese with a side of withered green beans. I’m offered Jell-O, but that has pig parts in it, so I pass and follow Ryan to our table. Gwen from Green World doesn’t eat with us, but the freshmen do, and we let them because we remember how much it sucked. Sometimes Ryan’s other friends join us; he’s a Renaissance man these days, so in addition to all the academic clubs and the debate team, he also takes pictures for the yearbook and the school blog. Which doesn’t sound cool, maybe, but everyone knows who he is. I’m definitely the sidekick in this relationship.
As I take my first bite, Ryan asks, “So what’s with you and the new kid?”
I can’t place his tone, but I’m feeling squirrelly. “Huh?”
“You invited him to join our stuff?” He says the last two words like some people say “our song,” as if it’s private and privileged, just for the two of us. But he’s never been exclusionary.
“He was there when I showed up,” I say, puzzled. “So I told him about the meeting. Was I not supposed to?”
Ryan snaps, “He’s a grunge kid. Like he cares about the environment. Right now he’s probably writing song lyrics about how nobody understands him.”
Wow. He seems to have it in for Shane, which is so not like him. I frown while Tara and Kenny glance between us, wide-eyed. They’re not sure what’s going on, and neither am I.
“Maybe we could talk about this later?”
“Come on,” he says, gathering up the remnants of his lunch.
I’m not sure I want to, but following Ryan has become second nature at this point. So I trail him into the hallway. I fold my arms, waiting for an explanation.
“I just…” Here, Ryan pauses, at a loss for words as he never is. “He doesn’t seem like our type, that’s all.”
“How can you tell, just by looking?” I ask incredulously. “You’ve hardly talked to him.”
I can’t believe I’m hearing this from him. He should know, better than anyone, how it feels to be picked on and excluded, based on factors beyond one’s control. Until the summer after freshman year, he was five foot four and routinely got shoved inside lockers. So Ryan knows damn well how Shane must feel; apparently he just doesn’t care.
“Well, I’m not letting you decide who I can be friends with,” I tell him.
“You don’t know—” he starts.
“Does he kill kittens? Sell drugs?”
“One of the secretaries talked to my mom, okay? She said he’s got a thick file. I’m not supposed to know about it, but … that’s never good, right?”
I almost get mad at Ryan then, but that—no. For a few seconds, I’m woozy and scared; this can’t happen. So I take four deep breaths, mustering a smile and a polite tone. “Did Dylan’s mom talk to yours?”
Ms. Smith might be Mrs. McKenna’s source; she works in the school office, which should make Dylan an outcast. Instead, he manages to be popular, probably because he’s hot and plays multiple sports. He’s also the asshole leading the crew that picks on Shane, who’s supposedly a bad guy. I could laugh at the irony.