Speechless(30)

                When Sam’s elbow accidentally knocks against mine, I nearly                     jump out of my skin. So much for playing it cool. He glances at me with big blue                     eyes, clearly surprised by my crazy overreaction, but doesn’t say anything. I                     blush and try to return my attention to whatever Ms. Kinsey’s still                     discussing.

                “…and four weeks from now we’ll have the presentations,” she                     says.

                Oh, right, the project. I’m looking forward to it so much I                     could just shoot myself in the face in anticipation. Ms. Kinsey beams brightly                     at me, and I struggle to look less outwardly like I feel, which at the moment is                     borderline suicidal.

                “So why don’t you go ahead and partner up, and you can start                     deciding who you want to choose as your subject.”

                Wait. Partners? What?

                Please, please, please tell me I                     heard that wrong.

                I didn’t. Everyone in the classroom shuffles around, making the                     migration to other workstations, meeting up with the partners they arranged via                     silent hand signals and elbow nudging during Ms. Kinsey’s ramble. Everyone                     except me, of course. And, oddly enough, Sam. I notice he hasn’t moved from his                     spot. Doesn’t he have friends?

                I try to remember who I’ve seen him with in the past. Noah,                     mostly. And I know they hung out with a lot of groups, but I can’t think of any                     specific one—they’re not art freaks, or super academics, or straight edge, or                     burnouts. I’ve seen them both skateboarding, but they don’t hang out with the                     skaters, either. Definitely not the jocks, even                     though Noah plays soccer. They just…floated from group to group. Somehow they                     still managed to be friends with practically everyone. Cool but still                     accessible. Which is the reason Noah was allowed to come to the party in the                     first place.

                I chance a glance at Sam as he drums his fingers on the                     countertop. He sees me watching and stops abruptly.

                “Uh…” he starts to say. He looks everywhere else before he                     settles his gaze on me, and then he does the hair rubbing thing again, like it’s                     a nervous tic. “It looks like everyone else paired off. Guess that leaves                     us.”