Lauren starts taking big lunging steps. “OK, then text him back and see what he wants.” This girl is flip-flopping like a senator. I’m probably consulting the wrong person on this crisis—Lauren and Matt have been together since sophomore year. She’s got no point of reference for this kind of pain.
I grunt and stop walking. “This isn’t helping.”
Lauren puts her arm around my shoulders. We walk over to the steps leading to the gym, and she sits down beside me. “This happened on The Bachelor last season. The exact same thing.”
I cut in, “I feel so uncomfortable, I just want to climb out of my skin.”
“Oh,” Lauren says with a concerned face.
“Lo, everyone at school knows what happened that night. I can see them whispering about it when I walk by. Everyone looks at me different.”
“No way. He looked like a huge jackass,” she says.
“We had a deal. The summer was ours. Then he cheated on me. With Taylor. I hate him for that.”
“Taylor isn’t the problem. And the cheating wasn’t the worst part of that night.”
I stand up and brush myself off. “I’m mad at myself for letting it happen.”
“You think it’s your fault?” Lauren asks, hopping up.
“You wouldn’t understand. You and Matt are perfect.”
“We aren’t—”
Lauren stops speaking, and her face goes white like she’s seen a ghost.
From behind me I hear, “Hi, Georgia.”
Oh no. I turn around and see her.
“Hello, Taylor.”
She is twirling a piece of hair around her finger. She always does that. It drives me NUTS.
“It’s so hot out, I can’t see straight,” she says.
“You know, that’s the first sign of a stroke,” I offer. I’d rather run into traffic than have this conversation. Why is she right here, right now? Maybe we said her name too many times and accidently summoned her. If we don’t get out of here ASAP, I might say something that I’ll regret, like Why would you hook up with my boyfriend? for starters.
Taylor lowers her head and kicks the dirt. “Georgia, I just wanted to see . . . if we can talk?”
“That sounds like so much fun, Taylor, but Lauren got stung by a bee and she’s allergic to bees. We need to get to the nurse.”
Lauren leans in to my ear and whispers, “I’m not allergic to bees.”
“OK,” Taylor says, “but maybe we can talk soon?”
Maybe never.
“Sure,” I say while leading Lauren away.
3:59 P.M.
I’m still fuming about running into Taylor when I walk into the last class of the day, Chem Lab. Rational Me knows that it’s not Taylor’s fault. But Irrational Me can’t get over it. Taylor was fully aware that Anthony and I were together; therefore, I am never ever forgiving her. Solid logic. Maybe I’ll show her by getting back with Anthony.
The class has started, and Mr. Glover is warming up his pun game. “Bunsen burner? Get it? Hey, that was a chemistry joke! Why no reaction? Guys, I’m in my element here.”
I have zero percent focus. I lean over to Pony. “He’s in the zone. The pun zone.”
“I’m worried. I think this is a cry for help,” Pony says.
I laugh, maybe a little too loudly. Mr. Glover hears me and takes it as validation that his jokes are landing. They aren’t, but it’s endearing. I have kept my distance from Pony all day, but it’s impossible in Chem Lab—we sit two feet away from each other. I look over at him. He’s got piercing green eyes.
“You OK, Georgia?” he asks.
“Yes, of course,” I say, a little too defensively. He doesn’t know me. Why would he know if something was wrong?
“Cool,” he says, then returns his focus back to Mr. Glover.
A few minutes later, I elbow him. “Did you know that dinosaurs actually had human skin?”
“You don’t say?”
“I do say. Have you seen any pictures of dinosaurs? Pics or didn’t happen, Pony.”
“Well, scientists have devoted their lives to this kind of research, but please continue . . .”
“Shhhh,” I quiet him. “I’ve read reports that dinosaurs had feathers. Feathers, Pony! How fancy.”
Pony tilts his head. “Didn’t the Guardian prove that wrong?”
That’s the sexiest thing a guy has ever said to me. “I think I saw that,” I lie.
“Do you believe in the first moon landing?” Pony asks.
“No,” I say, because I don’t.
He smirks at me. “I know exactly who you are, Georgia.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I say, returning his dumb smirk.
Mr. Glover interrupts our tête-à-tête. “I’m sorry, is my class boron you two in the back?”
We both look up at the teacher with immediate focus and remain still, like wild animals caught eating garbage.
“Hey, Mr. Glover,” Pony says loudly, “what do solids, liquids, and gases have in common?”
Mr. Glover thinks for a moment and then takes the bait. “What?”
“They all matter,” Pony says, and the class laughs a little, but Mr. Glover cracks up. It might be the funniest thing he has ever heard. I’m stunned. Pony is full of surprises.
Mr. Glover collects himself. “Now students, let’s talk mitochondria!”
After it’s safe to look away, Pony shifts his attention to writing in his notebook, and I’m left to think about what I don’t want to think about. I pull my phone out of my bag and conceal it under my desk. I open Anthony’s text and stare at the screen, unsure how to respond.
Pony slides a note over to me with a mischievous smile. A written note—how old-fashioned. I drop my phone in my lap and watch Mr. Glover do the Macarena while singing “Heeeey, Mitochondria.” I don’t think he’ll notice.
I unfold the paper, and it’s a drawing of a T. rex that looks like Mr. Glover—same mustache and everything—covered in feathers and standing on the moon. I start to laugh but cover my mouth. Pony has this big smile with bright, burning eyes.
I put my hand on his shoulder to push him away, but that’s not what I want. There’s an electricity between us, like that shock from clothes fresh out of the dryer. I let my hand fall down his arm. We both turn our attention back to the teacher, like we just did something wrong.
A few minutes later, I remember that my phone is in my lap. I grab it and read the text from last night: Hope u had a good first day, Georgie.
You know what? I did have a good first day. We pulled an A+ prank that everyone is talking about, and I met someone new. I can do better than Anthony. I put my phone away and sneak a look at Pony.
I’m going to stay right here for now.
THREE
Friday, August 30
PONY, 6:45 P.M.
As I walk up the steps to the mansion, I look at the neighborhood. The houses tower over the trees with big windows and fancy cars in the driveways. Each mansion looks different, all silently competing for superiority. We’re not in Addison anymore, Toto.
I ring the bell and hear the echo bounce around the house. After a couple minutes, the actor’s assistant answers the door. He seems confused by my presence, even though he interviewed, hired, and told me to be here.