Speechless(129)

                Sam says, “They want to go to the winter dance…thing.”

                They? Incorrect plural usage! Only Asha wants to. I draw an                     arrow pointing toward her on my whiteboard and hold it up. Sam pushes away from                     Andy—who smirks, victorious—and rubs at his hair.

                “Correction. Asha wants to go,” he amends.

                “From the way everyone acts, you’d think I was offering myself                     up as a virgin sacrifice,” she mutters, then blushes at what she’s let slip. To                     their credit, Andy and Sam don’t crack any inappropriate jokes.

                My rumbling stomach interrupts the awkward silence. Oops. I                     probably should’ve eaten something today. Everyone looks at me and laughs.

                “Get that girl some food,” Dex says as he walks off into the                     back.

                Sam leans his elbows on the counter in front of me and grins.                     Imperfect though it may be, it is a damn charming smile. “What can I get                     ya?”

                “I want an omelet,” Asha interjects.

                PANCAKES, I write. I think for a second,                     then add, & eggs. scrambled. & orange juice. I draw a little smiley                     face underneath the words.

                Andy sees my board and says to Sam, “I call pancakes,                     bitch.”

                “Like I’d trust you to make an omelet anyway. Bitch.”

                Andy can’t cook as well as Sam can, or make as many dishes as                     Sam can, but even I know pancakes and scrambled eggs are easy, and they turn out                     wonderful. Of course, right now I’m so starved that pretty much anything                     remotely edible would look wonderful.

                He sets the plate down in front of me and says, “I think you                     should.”

                Should what? I cut some pancake with the side of my fork and                     raise my eyebrows.

                “Go to the dance thing,” he clarifies. “I mean, you shouldn’t                     let those idiots stop you from doing what you want to do.”

                Asha and Sam trade looks over my head. I know they must be                     wondering what transpired between Andy and me to make him suddenly care about me                     standing up for myself.