“The hero’s journey isn’t just limited to fantasy or adventure stories, though.” Mr. Jenkins started scribbling on the whiteboard. “How many of you have read To Kill a Mockingbird? And if you haven’t, this would be a good time to lie, since I know you were assigned it in Freshman English.”
I raised my hand with everyone else, not really listening to Jenkins blathering on about Scout and “moral trials instead of physical ones.” It was hard to focus on anything he was saying. I kept looking at the empty desk in the front corner and wondering how Rachel was doing with the film crew. Not like I was worried about her or anything. She’d just been so nervous when we filmed on Friday. How was she holding up on her own? Maybe she needed a little moral support? That was normal. After all, we were doing this together.
(To Rachel): The key to dealing with Laura is to never, ever imagine her in her underwear. You’ll start wondering about laws of gravity, and biological processes, and soon you’ll be too wrapped up in science to answer quickly.
“Dude,” Ollie hissed. I glanced up, dropping the phone onto my lap at the same time. I grabbed the handout Mr. Jenkins was passing out, trying to act nonchalant, like I’d just been soaking it all in with my hands in my lap. Jenkins smirked but didn’t say anything. He was one of those teachers who’d rather not make a scene. Once he was halfway up the next row I pressed send with my thumb.
“You texting Rachel?” Ollie whispered once Jenkins was safely out of range.
“Yeah.”
“What do you guys even have to talk about? It’s not like you know any of the same people.” Ollie’s voice: normal, low-key. His subtext: judgy.
“I dunno. The show mostly.”
“Where are things with Emma?”
“We haven’t talked since Saturday.” I clicked my phone to light up the screen. I knew Rachel hadn’t texted back. But it was something to do with my hands. “She’s still pissed. I already apologized. There’s nothing else I can do.”
“Mmm.” Ollie scribbled a few notes on the bottom of the handout. Either he was really interested in the hero’s journey or he didn’t want to make eye contact. “So you guys aren’t together?”
“Definitely not.”
“But you’ll make up, right?”
I thought about it. I still liked Emma. She was still fun to hang out with, most of the time.
But I was sick of it. Sick of getting the silent treatment whenever she was pissed. Sick of being expected to grovel. Sick of getting broken up with, then having her “want me back” a week later. Sick of Emma being jealous of girls she didn’t even know. Girls I didn’t even know.
“I dunno.”
“Mmm.” Ollie nodded, still not looking at me. “Gonna play the field? You could probably hook up with a new girl every night. You’d be living Dave’s wet dreams.”
“Yeah . . .” That sounded cool in theory, until I thought of the freshmen that first day in the hall. And the girls on Flit telling me how perfect I was. It was suffocating. Worse: boring. Worst: Ollie was right, it screamed Dave. Who wanted to scream Dave? “Probably not. It’s not really about that. I just need a break from the drama.”
“Emma can be drama, sure. But—”
Ollie looked like he wanted to say something else. Something especially big brothery.
“Gentlemen.” Jenkins was staring straight at us, one eyebrow raised in annoyance. “Unless you’re discussing the stunning brilliance of the handout I gave you, save it for passing time.”
Ollie and I nodded. His lips were pursed and his cheeks were a little red. Ollie hated getting in trouble.
My phone buzzed in my lap. I waited until Jenkins had turned to the board to click the screen on.
(From Rachel): Thank god I didn’t see this before I filmed the Laura segments, because seriously, the old-lady-undies mental images will. Not. Disappear.
I typed back quickly with one thumb.
(To Rachel): How’d it go?
(From Rachel): Okay. People will see how brutally awkward I am and they’ll take pity. Total step up from where I’m standing.
I looked up at Jenkins. He was writing something about mentors. I copied it down before texting back. It was good to look like I was paying some attention, in case Jenkins was still keeping an eye.
(To Rachel): Why don’t you come by later to watch today’s show? Seeing how dumb I look with that fry bouquet will make you feel better
(From Rachel): It’s a date.
I smiled a little. She’d probably have some hilarious stories about dress shopping. Plus, it would be nice to have someone to watch with. And Rachel would be an easy critic. If she laughed at the segment it wouldn’t feel like she was laughing at me. It would have with anyone else.
Somehow a lot of things were different with Rachel.
chapter thirty-nine
RACHEL
MONDAY, 1:10 P.M.
“Okay, so you took the picture for your friend.”