“No, that’s not what I . . . I just mean that you seem so confident.”
I don’t feel confident, but I like that he sees me that way. So I lean in and kiss him. His mouth is a flicker of heat escaping through a wall of ice. His breath swirls with my breath as our lips move in unison.
When I pull away, the air that rushes in to take the place of his breath is frigid.
“For the record,” he says as he touches my cheek with his slightly sticky hand, “I do like you. A lot.”
So I lean in and kiss him again.
CHAPTER 9
LEGENDS OF THE STONE
KittyKat: behind you
[]Sythlight: thx
MEGAdawn has logged on.
MEGAdawn: LOTSCON IS GOING TO BE IN TORONTO IN MARCH
[]Sythlight: Seriously? Sweet. I’ll have to get tickets.
KittyKat: that’s cool
[]Sythlight has entered the waterlands.
MEGAdawn: LUMBERLEGS IS GOING TO BE ON THE SAME GROUND IN THE SAME COUNTRY AS ME
KittyKat has entered the waterlands.
KittyKat: hey Meg, as long as you’re on, we should talk about our project.
MEGAdawn: CAN’T TALK NOW TOO EXCITED
MEGAdawn: THIS IS SUCH A GREAT WEEKEND
KittyKat: we need to soon
MEGAdawn: gah look we can talk about it at school then you can come over on Friday and we’ll work on it then MEGAdawn: just
MEGAdawn: be sure to show up before 6
MEGAdawn: or after
MEGAdawn: just not at 6
MEGAdawn: stupid jerkface will be here
KittyKat: ok
MEGAdawn: ugh, now jerkface has made me grumpy []Sythlight: HEY MEG, DID YOU HEAR LOTSCON’S GOING TO BE IN TORONTO?
[]Sythlight has entered the greenlands.
MEGAdawn: OMG WHAT? THAT’S AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!
KittyKat: you guys are ridiculous. I’m logging off now.
KittyKat: bye
[]Sythlight: bye :)
KittyKat has logged off.
MEGAdawn: you going to go?
[]Sythlight: For sure. You thinking of flying out here for it?
MEGAdawn: I will hijack a plane if I have to.
[]Sythlight: She’s just kidding, NSA.
MEGAdawn: um right. plane hijacking is a bad idea. but we’ll find a way.
MEGAdawn: there’s no way we’re missing out []Sythlight: Well, I hope you do come. Both of you.
MEGAdawn: oh don’t you worry, we will. both of us.
KAT
AT LUNCH ON MONDAY, MEG MEETS ME AT MY LOCKER AS ALWAYS. “OKAY,” I say, “so I’ve been thinking about our project—”
“Hang on—that’s what you want to talk about after the most epic weekend ever? Why aren’t we talking about LotSCON? Aren’t you going to ask me about my date?”
I blink at her. “You told me about your date all weekend.”
She leans against the locker beside mine. “That wasn’t in person, though.”
“Fine. How was your date?”
She grins. “Glorious. Now come meet Grayson.” She slams my locker door, grabs the lock out of my hand, and snaps it shut.
Here’s the thing: we can’t avoid our science project forever. I can’t avoid testing people forever.
But here’s the other thing: I do want to meet Grayson. Even though it makes my stomach twist. “Okay, but then we should go work on our project.”
She scowls. “No way. You know how I feel about homework at lunch. We’re eating with Grayson and his posse.”
My stomach twists even further. It must be facing back to front.
Meg’s expression softens. “Look, we can eat in the stairwell instead of in the caf. Then you won’t have to be so on edge.”
I’m already on edge. We started a group project today in Ancient Civilizations, and Mr. Bates put me with these two guys, Eric and Sunil, who I’ve never spoken to in my life, and who only ever seem to talk about hockey. They want to write about the impact of the Neolithic Revolution, and I don’t even know if they can spell “Neolithic.” Or “Revolution,” for that matter.
One paleontologist . . . two spelling . . . three strangers . . .
“It’s just—our project—we really should—”
“Dude, what’s going to happen if we wait until tomorrow? It’s not like the entire universe is going to implode or get mad at us or something.”
“It might.”
“Yeah, well, some days the universe is just wrong. Besides, you’re coming over on Friday. We’ll get a ton done then. Now come on.” She loops her arm through mine, then pivots us around toward the back stairwell.
I sigh, giving in. “Will Grayson know to meet us out here?”
She stops abruptly. “Good point. I’ll text him.” She grabs her phone from her pocket and taps a quick message with her arm still looped through mine. Then she slips the phone away and drags us off down the hall, where we drop our backpacks in the corner of the stairwell and sit cross-legged on the beige concrete floor.
Meg starts babbling immediately about LotSCON and all the events they’ve announced. I’m not sure why she’s so excited, since it’s across the country and there’s no way we’ll be going. At least, I definitely won’t. I don’t do planes. But I guess it is kind of cool to have something so big happening in Canada. We get passed over so often.
I’ve just pulled out my lunch when the guy Meg’s pointed out to me in the cafeteria a few times peeks over the banister, then grins and waves at Meg. “It’s this one,” Grayson shouts over his broad, bony shoulder as he comes down the rest of the stairs. His boxers peek out of the top of his pants, just like Meg said—patterned with little skulls and crossbones.
Meg leaps to her feet and bounces over to him and kisses him. On the lips. Right there in the stairwell. This guy she barely even knew a week ago. They beam at each other.
A big, teddy-bear-like guy appears behind them at the bottom of the stairs, and it suddenly feels awkward to be sitting when they’re all standing, so I clamber to my feet and stumble over.
One first kiss . . . two pirates . . .
“Grayson, this is Kat. Kat, Grayson.” Meg wiggles her hips and shoulders in an excited little half dance.
Shaking hands would be weird, so I shove my hands in my pockets and nod at him.
“Hey.” He smiles pleasantly at Meg, then at me, and then gestures at the guy behind them. “This is my buddy Roman. The other guys already went to the caf.”
“Hi,” teddy-bear-Roman says, then nods at us. Then we’re all nodding at one another like some sort of bobblehead convention.
Five bobblehead . . . six eternity . . .
Grayson pulls a deck of cards out of his backpack. “You guys want to play euchre?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. A little too eagerly, maybe, but playing cards means we don’t have to talk. Playing cards means that if eating lunch with Grayson and his bobblehead friend turns into a regular occurrence—which I suspect it will—I might actually be able to survive it.
“Great.” Grayson sits down in the corner of the stairwell and, as we join him, starts to shuffle and deal out the cards, all without saying another word.
I like him already.