“What is it?”
“Seriously. No one can know. This isn’t one of those Tell everyone you tell not to tell anyone else kinds of situations. This is a You will never be my friend again if you tell anyone deal.”
“I promise,” she said. “Seriously. No one hears anything from me. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.”
Her eyes grew big. “Why? What?”
I took a deep breath and ripped off the Band-Aid quickly. “Aaron Marquand is having an affair with his stepmother. His father found out last night.”
Her mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut. “Are you serious? Oh my God!”
“Crazy, right? I had no idea. I mean, obviously or I would have told you.”
“Wow,” she said. “You hear about these things but you don’t think they happen in real life.”
“I guess they do.” I studied her face, relieved to see that she looked more bemused than upset. “So you’re okay? I was nervous about telling you.”
“Why? Am I that big a prude?”
“No. I just meant . . . you know. Because you liked him and I kind of encouraged you. I swear I had no idea about this.”
She blinked. “What are you talking about? When did I ever say I liked Aaron? He’s cute and nice and all but I’ve never thought about him all that much. He’s a little manic for me.”
“You don’t have to feel embarrassed about it. You had no way of knowing.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” she said, almost irritably. “I just never said I liked him.”
“Yes, you did! In my kitchen! We were talking about Aaron like a week ago and you asked me whether I liked him and when I said I didn’t, you said you did but you were worried he was too sophisticated for you. Remember? And I said—” I stopped. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because you totally misunderstood me!” She was almost helpless with giggles. “That’s so funny. We had that whole conversation and we were talking about completely different people. I meant George. Did you seriously think I meant Aaron?”
“You said something about how cute he was, and he’d just left the room—”
“So had George,” she said. “That must have been why you got confused! That’s so funny.”
“You said he was cute,” I repeated. “So I thought—”
“I happen to think George is cute, even if you don’t. I like nerdy guys. I thought you knew that about me.”
“I guess.” I was too bewildered to argue. I was having trouble processing this.
“Why would I ever say that Aaron was too sophisticated for me?”
“I don’t know.” I tried to collect my thoughts. “I guess it does make more sense the other way. George probably is too sophisticated for you. He’s definitely too old for you.”
“He’s only a couple of years older. My dad is six years older than my mom.”
“It’s different when you’re middle-aged.”
“But they were like eighteen and twenty-four when they met!”
“Oh. Right.”
“A lot of girls date older guys,” she added. “I feel the same way you do about high school boys. They’re lame. George is like a real person—that sounds stupid, but you know what I mean. And he’s so nice. We text sometimes, you know.”
I shook my head slowly. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“You were the one who told me I should text him!” She put her hand to her mouth, laughing. “Oh, wait—I guess you meant I should text Aaron. Well, I thought you meant I should text George, so I did. Just a couple of times, telling him how worried I felt about college stuff and how my college counselor is totally burned-out and overwhelmed.” She grinned and her dimple carved a comma into her right cheek. “So he said he’d help me figure out some new choices if Elton doesn’t work out. I didn’t even ask him to. It was totally his idea.”
“Has he asked you out?” My body tensed up as I waited for the answer. Heather could easily end up hurt—George was way out of her league, even if they could surmount the age difference. He was smarter, funnier, and . . . I didn’t even know what the word was, but he understood people in a way she didn’t.
“Well . . . he did say we should get together once I hear from Elton, either to celebrate or to figure out my next step. I think he feels like he needs an excuse to see me, like he can’t just show up at my house. Which I get.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “There’s my mom for one thing . . . but also it’s probably weird for him that I’m still in high school. We’re really alike, though.”
Heather’s cheerful obtuseness had never annoyed me so much before. “Really? I wouldn’t have said that at all. You guys seem really different to me.”
She opened her big blue eyes wide. “Are you kidding me? Haven’t you noticed when we’re all together how he and I agree about almost everything? You’re the one who’s always on the other side of arguments. And we work so well together—he never makes me feel stupid.” She shot me a sideways look. “Unlike other people I could name.”
“Is that directed at me?”
She flung her hand out. “You’re doing it right now—making me feel like I’m too stupid for someone like George to even notice.”
“I didn’t say you were too stupid. I said you were too young.”
“And unsophisticated, which is just another way of saying stupid!”
“No, actually, it’s another way of saying young.”
“I don’t see what your problem is. If he likes me and I like him—” She stopped. “Unless you like him, too? Is that what the problem is here?”
“George?” I dismissed that thought with a ripple of my fingers. “Of course not. He’s my SAT tutor, Heather. And he’s Jonathan’s brother, and Jonathan’s like my brother, which makes him like a brother to me—”
“It’s the transitive property,” she said brightly. “See how much math I remember, thanks to him?”