The worst thing is knowing they’re right. Asha might be a loser, but she’s been nice to me, inexplicably so, and she doesn’t deserve to deal with what’ll come to her just by being in my orbit.
“You’re not ruining my life.”
I open my eyes as Asha wipes her mouth off with the back of her hand. She must see the uncertainty on my face, because she smiles at me, equal parts grim and reassuring.
“You don’t really believe I think the girls who just bodychecked me into the lockers, called me a loser and ripped up my homework have my best interests at heart, do you?” she says.
I dig my whiteboard and marker from my bag. They’re not going to leave you alone if they see you with me.
“So?” she says. “In my opinion, if those girls hate me, that only means I must be doing something right.” The warning bell rings, and she sighs. “I should get to class. See you later.”
I don’t run into her again until lunch. I’m holed up in the library, the easiest place to be alone without drawing attention to myself or worrying about anyone bothering me. Every computer is taken, so my genius plan to waste the hour surfing the web is dashed to the rocks. Instead I plop down at an empty table and pull out my lunch—a bag of pretzels, bottled water and a Snickers bar, courtesy of the first-floor vending machine—and my geometry book. I can’t believe this is my life now. Spending lunch in the library. Doing homework. Ahead of time. Homework I cannot even understand. Oh, parabolas, why must your formulas elude me so?
“That looks nutritious.”
I look up to see Asha sitting across from me. She has a brown-paper-bag lunch spread out in front of her: a diagonally cut peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a little bag of crackers, some apple slices and a can of iced tea, along with her knitting.
I have no idea how long she’s been sitting there. Did I really get that absorbed in my geometry homework? Wonders, they will never cease.
Asha sees my look and casts her gaze down at the tabletop. “Sorry, am I interrupting?” she asks. “I can go if you want.”