If the sluggers were looking for someone to save the world, they chose the wrong guy. Marcus would press the button to save his own ass, Audrey would do it because she honestly believes every person on the planet deserves to live, and I’m sure even Charlie would do it, but only because the button is red and he likes bright things.
I’m not sure what Jesse would have done. He had this way of seeing the truth about a person. He understood people in a way I never could. Maybe he would have saved the world because it deserved to be saved, or maybe he wouldn’t have pressed it because he figured we’d only wind up finding some other way to annihilate ourselves. Whatever choice he might have made, it would have been the right one. Jesse was the best of us. Definitely the best of me.
Not that it makes a difference. The sluggers chose me and, as far as I’m concerned, life is like a game of Whose Line Is It Anyway? Everything’s made up, and the points don’t matter.
? ? ?
I was pretending to pay attention to Ms. Faraci while she taught us about buffers and pH by leaning on my fist and covering one eye, keeping the other open to look like I was awake. Mom and Charlie were still fighting whenever they were in the same room, so I wasn’t getting much sleep at home. I must have dozed off because the bell rang, startling me. Marcus slapped the back of my head as he passed, and threw a nickel on my desk. It bounced off my book and rolled on its edge to the floor. “Keep the change, Space Boy.” Adrian dropped a handful of them at my feet, laughing so hard, he looked like he was going to give himself a hernia.
I watched them go and, when I turned around, caught Audrey eyeing me. “What?”
“Someone started a rumor that you trade blow jobs for nickels behind the gym.”
“That’s stupid,” I said, looking at the change on the floor.
“They seem to think it’s hilarious.”
“If I’m supposedly some kind of nickel whore, and they’re giving me spare change, doesn’t that mean—”
Audrey flapped her hands in exasperation. “Just ignore them.”
“Whatever.”
She was huffing like she was dying to give me more unsolicited advice, but she said, “Forget it,” instead, gathered her books, and left.
Audrey hadn’t tried to talk to me since the party, and I was grateful for the silence. The last thing I want is for Audrey to tell me how sorry she is or make some lame attempt to fix our friendship. I’m content to let the world end with our friendship as dead as Jesse.
“Henry, may I speak to you for a moment?” Ms. Faraci sat behind her desk and caught me as I tried to sneak out.
“I’m kind of on my way to lunch and—”
Ms. Faraci picked up a Scantron sheet and set it on the edge of her desk. Even from a distance, the red lines were visible and plenty. “You failed your exam, Henry. This isn’t like you.”
I shuffled forward to look at the grade. I hadn’t failed the exam, I’d bombed it hard. We’d taken the test the Monday after Marcus’s party, and I knew I’d tanked it when I turned it in. “It’s just one test.”
“If someone is giving you a hard time, I can speak to them.”
“Please don’t.”
Ms. Faraci bit back whatever she was planning to say. “I know high school can be difficult.”
“Is this the part where you tell me it gets better, and that if I toughen up and make it through the next two years, my life will be awesome?” I hoisted my backpack higher on my shoulder. “Can I go?”
“I’d like to give you the opportunity to do some extra credit.”
“Pass.”
“An essay on a science-related topic of your choosing.”
“I don’t have time.”
“Maybe you could ask Audrey Dorn to help you; I’ve seen you talking, and she’s got the highest average in the class.”
“Definitely not, but thanks anyway.”
“You’ve got a real talent for science, and I don’t want to see your grade suffer. Think about it, okay?” Ms. Faraci’s voice was sincere, and I didn’t want it to be. I wanted her to be like the rest of my teachers: bored, jaded, and counting down the seconds until retirement.
“Sure, whatever.” I took off before she could detain me any longer. Even though I didn’t have anywhere to go, I didn’t want to spend my lunch period with a teacher.
My locker was in the art building, which was quiet and centrally located. When I reached it, I dialed in the combination and grabbed my lunch. I heard the door open at the end of the hall, and turned to see Diego Vega enter. I hoped he hadn’t seen me.
“Henry Denton!”
Damn. He was waving like we were best friends. It was hot as balls outside, but he was wearing a green sweater over an oxford shirt and tie that made him look like he’d gotten lost on his way to a polo match, only his tie was askew and his collar flaps out. It was probably as contrived as everything else about him.
Diego sidled up to me as I slammed my locker door shut, and said, “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Guilty.”
“If it’s about what I said at the party—”
“Forget it. I’m used to it.” I wanted to leave out the west exit, but the north doors were closer, so I headed for them.
“Cafeteria’s the other way.”
I kept walking. “I don’t eat in the cafeteria.”