He keeps smiling his loopy smile. “Only on life, Sam.”
“And a fuckton of Vicodin,” adds Andy. “He’s on some hard-core painkillers right now.” He starts rolling Noah toward the school. “We’re going to sit on the sidelines and watch you kids live it up.”
Living it up, indeed. The gym’s decorations are as mediocre as ever—leftover silver Christmas tinsel and plastic glittering snowflakes everywhere—but the place is packed, reeking of sweat and cheap cologne and teenage hormones.
“Smells like teen spirit,” Andy quips as he guides Noah to one of the empty side tables.
Asha wastes no time in dragging me onto the floor. I had no idea the girl could dance like she does. My initial self-consciousness vanishes from the sheer, overpowering force of her shamelessness. A few minutes later Sam abandons Andy and Noah to join us; he dances like your typical boy, all minimal feet shuffling and head bobbing, but he looks like he’s enjoying himself, and that’s what really matters. Having fun. And I am. We get a few strange looks—I’m not sure if people are weirded out by Asha’s dress, or by the fact I’ve dared to show my face here—but I don’t really think about it. Who cares? Let people stare.
After a few songs I take a quick break to use the bathroom, and when I come out, I see Brendon by the water fountain. He smiles when he sees me.
“Hey, Chelsea,” he says.
“Hey,” I say, and grin at the surprised look on his face.
“You’re speaking again,” he says. “When did this happen?”
I shrug. “It’s a recent development.”
“Uh-huh,” he says. “I saw you come in with Noah and Sam. Are you guys having a good time?”
“More than I’d hoped for,” I tell him. I tilt my head at him. “Where’s Kristen?”
“Around,” he says vaguely. He bites on his lower lip for a moment, like he’s considering what to say next. “You know, I almost thought about asking you, but—”