Adorkable(51)

“You will,” Becks said. “I know you will. You’ll get in and write a freaking bestseller your first time out.”

I played along. “And you’ll be on a soccer pitch somewhere, winning your third World Cup.”

“And we’ll still be friends,” Becks added. “Through everything, no matter where we are, no matter what happens, we’ll always be friends, right Sal?”

I thought of how I’d kissed him, how he’d kissed me back. I thought of how he’d held my hand, been there whenever I needed him, the poem I’d never known he’d written until just a few days ago.

“Right?” Becks insisted.

“Right,” I choked. “Becks, I’ve gotta go, okay?”

“Okay. Night, Sal.”

“Night.”

I hung up, utterly defeated. It’d been less than three weeks, but I couldn’t keep doing this. The F.B.F. plan was good in theory, but in practice it was more trouble than I could handle. The havoc it was wreaking on my heart was too much. Something had to be done and fast. Becks would understand. He’d probably be relieved, might even thank me for it.

Tomorrow, I decided. Slytherin or not, I would do it tomorrow. What I needed to figure out was how best to do the deed.





CHAPTER 11





Becks wasn’t happy.

“What the hell, Sal?”

Correction, Becks was pissed.

As I approached, he stayed locked in his position against my locker, stiff-legged, an unfamiliar scowl on his face. I only ever saw it those rare times when he failed a test (hardly ever) or lost a game. The expression had been safely tucked away for over a year, but it was clearly on display today.

I decided to play dumb.

“How’s it going, Becks?” I asked. “Your ankle any better?”

“My ankle’s fine,” he said tightly, “and I was too until about ten minutes ago.”

“Really?” I was eyes down, giving every spare bit of attention to my combination. With Becks breathing down my neck, I’d already screwed it up twice.

“Umm, you know why?”

Third time did the trick, and I scrambled to get my books in and out as fast as I could.

“No idea, huh?” Becks leaned closer, his voice whisper-soft. “Well, now let’s see. My girlfriend just broke up with me, and you know what? She didn’t even have the guts to do it to my face. Pretty messed up, right?”

“Pretend,” I said, slamming my locker closed. In a voice just as quiet, I faced him and said, “Pretend girlfriend, Becks. We were going to end this in a couple of weeks anyway. What’s the big deal?”

He stared at me, and then held up his phone. “A text, Sal?”

I flinched.

“‘F.B.F. plan not working. Want 2 break early. It’s me, not U.’“ Becks recited the message like I might’ve forgotten.

As if.

I glared at my hands. They’d shaken for an entire minute after I pushed send.

“So?” His tone, his eyes demanded an explanation.

I didn’t have one—or at least not one I was ready to tell him—so instead I said, “I just don’t want to hold you back.”

“What?”

“Like you said, there are plenty of girls out there.” I shrugged and started walking. “At the game, I realized just how many. School’s going to end soon. It’s not right for me to take advantage of you like this.”

“But you knew that from the start,” he said, trying to keep pace. I adjusted my stride to his—taking into account his bad ankle—though all I really wanted to do was run. “And I let you take advantage. What changed?”

Hmm, let’s see: I realized I was a bad friend, a manipulator, and a Slytherin. We lied to our parents. You wrote that poem. We kissed. A lot of things had changed, but I couldn’t say any of that to Becks.

“Hey Bally,” Rick Smythe said, giving Becks a high five as we passed. “I’m all for UCLA my friend. Go Bruins!”

Becks nodded, but his eyes were on me.

“Bally,” someone shouted, “Ohio’s the way to go, man!”

“Yo, Bally.” Trent Zuckerman gave Becks’s cheeks a two-handed rub down, smiled at me then went on his way.

“What’s that they’re calling you?” I muttered. We were almost to Ms. Vega’s door. If I could just hold him off until then, maybe he’d let it rest.

“Us,” he said. “Not me, us. Don’t you remember Clayton’s couple name?”

“Don’t tell me,” I groaned.

“Apparently Bally is catching on.” He tugged on my arm as we reached the door. “Sal, I need you to tell me what happened. Is something wrong?”