The three of them exchange a look, then Kristin smirks. “Yes, Julian. We know.”
“Julian!” I hear Adam call out from inside a classroom. I halt and find him grinning at me from his desk. “Come here!” His class is noisy chaos, so I continue to hover in the hallway. “Come on.”
Cautiously, I make my way inside.
Allison and another girl—I can’t remember her name—are standing in the front on a raised platform. Some kids are sitting in their desks, ones that are scattered instead of in rows, and the rest of the kids are standing or walking around.
Adam taps the empty desk beside him. I sit down and ask, “What class is this?”
“Theater. Where were you going?”
I shrug.
“Skipping?”
I shrug again.
“You’re going to get caught eventually.”
He’s right and it scares me, but I had to. When I got to Child Development, Miss Carlisle said we’d be doing group work. “I told my teacher I was going to the nurse.”
“Are you still sick?”
“No.”
“So you were faking?”
“Well…”
“You’re the reason Grumpy Nurse is so suspicious!” He points an accusing finger at me.
“I should leave. Before your teacher gets back.”
“She’s not here. She’s running lines with some kids for the show.”
“Oh. So who’s in charge?”
“Me.” Then he pitches his voice louder. “All right, everybody, listen up.” Everyone stops talking and watches Adam pull a slip of paper from the small metal box on top of his desk. “Hypochondriac at the doctor’s office. Go!”
Allison and the other girl on the platform whisper into each other’s ears, then the girl clutches her knee and wails. The classroom fills with laughter as the scene continues.
When Adam’s phone beeps, he yells, “Time!” Then it’s someone else’s turn. After several performances, he looks at me. “You want a turn?”
I quickly shake my head. “No, thank you.”
“How ’bout you, Stef?” he says to a girl I didn’t notice until then.
Stef looks embarrassed and pulls at her wild, frizzy hair. “I’m not sure….”
“Come on,” Adam says, hopping out of his seat. “I’ll be your partner.”
I know he’s just being nice. All of Adam’s friends are so pretty, but she’s like me, one of those people you aren’t supposed to talk to if other people are around to see.
Stef blushes as they walk to the front of the class.
“Julian,” Adam says, “read one of the prompts.”
Everyone looks while I pull a strip of paper from the box. “H-hiring a…private de-detective.”
Adam grins and whispers in Stef’s ear. She blushes again and keeps trying to control her hair. Their performance is really funny, and I find myself laughing along with the rest of the class. If this is what school is like for him, I can see why he likes it.
When the timer goes off, Adam grabs Stef’s hand and pulls her into a bow. He looks happy. Not acting nice or feeling sorry, but genuinely happy, as if he likes her as much as he likes everyone else.
IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT and we’re all piled into Jesse’s living room. Suggesting The Game was totally strategic on my part—any excuse to turn off that music no one can dance to.
“Okay…Jesse,” Charlie says, looking at him in a way that makes him fidget. “I want you to lick Camila’s…” He pauses, and Jesse grins nervously. “…purse.”
Disappointment falls over his face. “Seriously?” We all watched the documentary in Ms. Fry’s class this week claiming purses are dirtier than toilets. “But I might get sick.”
Charlie smirks. “Do it anyway.”
After a lot of harassment from everyone, Jesse gives in, revolted, then chugs his beer as if the alcohol will sanitize his tongue.
“My turn,” Camila says, sticking out her chest and tossing back her dark hair.
“How’s it your turn?” Jesse protests. “I’m the one who had to—”
“I just had to sit back and watch someone rub their disgusting mouth all over my purse.” Jesse looks hurt. “Definitely my turn.”
She points a sharp red fingernail at me. “Question.” Seeing my naked ass must be losing its appeal, because lately, instead of giving me dares, my friends’ve been making me answer questions. I think they’re hoping that eventually something will embarrass me, but it hasn’t happened yet. “Describe the first time you got naked with a girl. In detail.”
“Okay,” I say. “I was in kindergarten.”
“No. Doesn’t count if your mom put you in the bathtub together.”
“No, this counts. It was in a sexual context.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“But it counts. So, okay, her name was Charlotte.”
“Charlotte King?” Allison asks.
“Yeah.”
“We were in Brownies together,” Natalie adds.