Only, instead of moving on as I should, I continue to stand there like the nerd they’re convinced that I am. Mainly because they all just continue talking and laughing like I’m completely invisible. Which, as far as superpowers go, would be a pretty cool one to have. But even the Invisible Man is seen some of the time. As far as these people are concerned, I don’t even exist.
It’s only when Dougall comes up behind me and says, “Nick, what the heck?” that I make for the other side of the room, push through the door, and head for the brown and balding butt-shaped patch of grass marking the space where every former Greentree failure has sat through the years.*2 And I can’t help but wonder how Dougall will feel when we return from winter break and he’s sitting here alone or, even worse, stuck with just Plum, since there’s no way I can invite him to sit at the cool table with me. It makes me feel bad, since we’re so used to eating together, but despite how powerful I’m about to become, there’s no way I can bring him along if he refuses to change. Let’s face it, for Dougall to be accepted by the people I’m about to become friends with, he’d have to transform pretty much everything about himself—the clothes, the personality—he’d basically have to become a completely different person.
“What took you so long?” Plum balances a cupcake with pink icing on the palm of her hand as her gaze settles on me. “Everything okay?”
I close my eyes and tilt my face toward the clouds, intent on ignoring her, which seems like the best way to go, even though it practically never works. No matter what I do, she insists on liking me in a way I will never reciprocate.
“Nick was having a staring contest with the back of Mac Turtledove’s head.” Dougall jabs a thumb at me and rolls his eyes.
“You have nothing to worry about.” Plum’s voice is so sincere it annoys me even more. “Mac doesn’t stand a chance against you.”
Dougall grunts, then flips the tab on the Coke he brought from home. And when I see the way it bubbles and spurts out the top, dribbling all over his hands, well, it’s just one more example of why I have no choice but to lose him. There’s no getting around it—Dougall is completely uncool.
“I still don’t get why you’re determined to do this.” He wipes his hands on his jeans, seemingly unfazed by the fact that they’re going to be sticky for the rest of the day.
“Nick has a gift.” Plum shrugs like it’s a fact. “And when you have a gift, you need to share it with the world.”
“Please.” Dougall tips his head back and laughs. “Nick’s just trying to get Tinsley Barnes’s attention.”
I frown. There’s no point in explaining myself when it’s clear we have different ambitions, different visions. When I think about it, it’s amazing our friendship has lasted this long.
“All I know is, Nick’s going to crush it.” Plum bites into her cupcake. “There’s no doubt.” She chases the words with a grin so big I’m practically blinded by the sight of chapped lips and small chunks of partially chewed cupcake stuck in her braces.
It’s all the right words spoken by the exact wrong person. If that kind of support came from anyone else, like, seriously, anyone else, it might hold some meaning. Maybe even help boost my confidence. But coming from Plum, well, it just makes me desperate to leave. It may be the last day we’ll all eat together, but I see no point in prolonging the inevitable.
I chuck my half-eaten sandwich back in my bag and stand.
“Where you going?” Dougall squints. “Bell hasn’t even rung yet.”
Again with the bells.
“I need a little prep time,” I say, stealing the line Josh Frost always uses when he slips away for a few moments of silence before a big show.
Plum nods like she totally gets me, while Dougall screws up his face like he doesn’t even know who I am.
And that’s how I leave them—one nodding, one squinting—as I head back inside. And the funny thing is, I’m not even tempted to look back and wave goodbye.
* * *
*1 If it were up to me, Plum wouldn’t sit with us. This is entirely Dougall’s fault.
*2 On snow days we eat in the library. As long as we clean up our crumbs and don’t spill, the librarians don’t mind.
12:48 P.M.—1:49 P.M.
GOOD OMEN #1*1
In honor of Greentree’s most famous (and only) homegrown celebrity, the gym received a makeover. There are blue and yellow streamers (our school colors) hanging from the ceiling and big yellow stars and WELCOME banners posted all over the walls. When Josh Frost takes the stage, well, even the most die-hard, self-proclaimed haters can’t keep from getting caught up in the excitement of being in the same room as a real live, flesh-and-blood celebrity.
Everyone is shouting, clapping, and stomping their feet, and the girls are all screaming, “Josh—omigod, I love you!”
I’m too busy studying Josh to join the hysteria. The way he stands before the mike, arms hanging casually by his sides, chin tilted ever so slightly, gaze moving slowly along the bleachers as though he’s actually looking at each and every individual…well, it’s clear why he rocketed straight to the top. For someone so used to screaming fans, he still manages to appear as though he’s surprised by the attention.
The guy’s a pro.