All week I watch for Grayson in the cafeteria so I can point him out again to Kat, but he must eat elsewhere sometimes, because I don’t spot him until Friday. “There!” I say, pointing to a table in the back corner.
“Don’t point,” Kat snaps, then turns her head ever so slightly in that direction. “The guy with the floppy hair and black shirt?” She’s whispering, as if there’s any chance he could hear her all the way across the busy room.
“That’s the one! Doesn’t he look kind of like Legs?”
She shrugs, then jerks her head down. “He’s spotted us.”
“He has?” I stand and turn, and sure enough, he’s looking right at us. I wave, then immediately regret waving, then don’t regret it at all because he actually waves right back and grins this grin so magical it should be named Perfection.
I sit back down to find Kat blinking wide-eyed at me, cheeks tinged with red.
“Isn’t he adorable?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Let’s just work on our proposal,” she whispers. She pulls our drafted and redrafted plan from her backpack.
“I told you, I don’t do homework at lunchtime,” I say, but I’m too happy to really protest. “Maybe Grayson can be one of the people we test. That’s a good idea. Write that down.”
Kat just rolls her eyes.
KAT
EVEN THOUGH OUR PROPOSAL IS PRETTY FAR ALONG, MY HEART POUNDS AS Mr. Carter leans over my desk to peer at it.
One judgment . . . two approval . . .
“Nice hypotheses,” Mr. Carter says.
“We want to do a bit more research on sugar this weekend,” Meg pipes up, which surprises me because I didn’t think she was listening when I told her that the research we’d done—and she had actually done a bit after I texted her to remind her—didn’t quite answer all my questions. “To make sure they make sense.”
Mr. Carter nods, eyes still on our paper. He reaches out and taps a line with his pencil. “You’re going to need to test more than ten people, though.”
More than ten.
Seven crowds . . . eight socialization . . .
“How about thirty?” Meg throws out.
“Yes, thirty would be much better.”
Meg grabs the sheet, turns it toward herself, and I’m forced to watch her make the revision as if in slow motion.
We will test ten thirty people.
Thirteen strangers . . . fourteen panic . . .
“Good work so far,” Mr. Carter says, then walks toward the next group, his legs disappearing from my field of view as I stare down at the page.
Sixteen introvert . . . seventeen conversation . . .
Thirty people.
When Meg and I decided on our science project, all I thought was: Legends of the Stone. Video game. Awesome.
I did not think about the fact that we would have to test real people. And I did not think about the fact that we would have to recruit those people.
I’m thinking about it now.
Twenty extroverts . . . twenty-one doomed . . .
“He said, ‘Good work,’” Meg says, beaming like she’s never had a teacher say that before, though I know she’s acing history and drama. She’s sitting backward in her chair, leaning over my desk, doodling on the corner of our proposal.
I can’t admit to her that I’m panicking. Can’t tell her that even though I’ve been here for more than a month, she’s the only person I know. We don’t need to actually finish the testing until February, with a check-in in January. That’s loads of time. Months and months. Which means I can push it out of my mind for now, and we can deal with that issue later. The people issue.
I hate people.
“Even me?” Meg asks, which could mean she’s a mind reader, but probably just means I accidentally said that out loud.
“You’re not people. You’re Meg.”
And something about the way she grins at that makes me feel the tiniest bit better.
LEGENDS OF THE STONE
[]Sythlight: Good job, team.
MEGAdawn: I only died five times!
KittyKat: you’re definitely improving
MEGAdawn: yeah now that we’ve handed in our proposal and you’re actually letting us play again instead of working all the time
KittyKat: oh shush. we played tons while we were working on it.
[]Sythlight: I should probably go soon. Need to go for a run before it gets dark.
MEGAdawn: u run in the snow?
[]Sythlight: No snow yet. It’s only October.
KittyKat has entered the waterlands.
MEGAdawn: we have a ton already
MEGAdawn: it snowed all weekend
MEGAdawn: u down somewhere south?
[]Sythlight: Nope, near Toronto.
[]Sythlight has entered the greenlands.
MEGAdawn: WOOOOO TEAM CANADA
MEGAdawn: we’re in Edmonton
[]Sythlight: A lot of us on here are in Canada. I think Pterion’s in Halifax. That’s how I connected with Lucien on the forums in the first place. Discovered we were both in Ontario and he invited me on here.
MEGAdawn: ur not a true Canadian if you don’t have snow yet, though
MEGAdawn has entered the waterlands.
KittyKat: stop perpetuating Canadian stereotypes
MEGAdawn: there’s no one else even on
Private Message from MEGAdawn to KittyKat:
MEGAdawn: u and Sythlight should totally get married
KittyKat: you’re ridiculous. I don’t even know if Syth is a girl or boy
MEGAdawn: boy
KittyKat: you don’t know that for sure
MEGAdawn: hey Syth, u a guy or a girl?
Private Message from KittyKat to MEGAdawn:
KittyKat: you are sooooo embarrassing
[]Sythlight: Guy. Why?
Private Message from MEGAdawn to KittyKat:
MEGAdawn: told you so
KittyKat: gah, he’s gonna think we’re stalking him
KittyKat: and maybe he doesn’t even like girls
KittyKat: BUT DON’T YOU DARE ASK THAT
KittyKat: and also I really don’t care
MEGAdawn: I have a theory that boys play girl and boy characters, but girls only play girls
KittyKat: that’s not confusing at all
[]Sythlight: How many people have you asked?
MEGAdawn: 1
MEGAdawn: so far 100% right. :P
Private Message from KittyKat to MEGAdawn:
KittyKat: if you want me to marry him, then you should probably stop flirting with him
MEGAdawn: OMG am I? so sorry!
KittyKat: dude, I’m not actually going to marry him. flirt away
MEGAdawn: no I’ll stop
MEGAdawn: random fact—I’m lactose intolerant so I fart after I eat ice cream
Private Message from KittyKat to MEGAdawn:
KittyKat: OMG!
MEGAdawn: no problem
MEG
NORMALLY, I LOVE SNOW——LOVE THE WAY IT TURNS GRAY STREETS WHITE AND piles up on lawns like mounds of fluffy pillows and makes everyone look like they have white hair. A city of grandparents.
As I bash my knee into the washing machine, though, I curse the stuff. Loudly.
The rest of our house is draped in carpet—except for the living room, but Mom yelled at me when she found me skateboarding on the hardwood floor. Which means that I’m stuck trying to learn this kick turn in our laundry room. The room may have cement floors, but it is way too tiny to do this trick right, let alone to do it wrong.
I let the skateboard skitter away toward the drain as I jab pause on the YouTube tutorial. My knee has taken enough bashing for now, and so has the washing machine. I pat it apologetically as I hop up to sit atop it. Then I text Kat.