Speechless(71)

                “I didn’t do anything,” he says. At my completely confused                     look, he elaborates. “That day I got detention. Some girl asked me to borrow a                     pencil during a test, I handed one to her…my Civics teacher gave us both                     detentions. Total overreaction.” He pauses. “I just remember you looked                     surprised to see me there, thought you might want to know why.”

                Of course when Brendon gets in trouble, it’s not really                     trouble. I knew he was too straitlaced to do anything wrong. I nod slowly, not                     sure how else to react to this. I feel like I should be coming up with some way                     to extend this interaction, but part of me wants it to end as soon as possible                     to kill the painful awkwardness of it all.

                “Um. So.” Brendon swings his backpack onto his back and shifts                     uncomfortably. Clearly the novelty of a one-way conversation has worn off. Or                     maybe he believes I really am in a cult. “Guess I                     should probably…yeah.”

                He ducks his head and hurries off, and I turn to watch him                     disappear into the sea of students. Just as he rounds the corner, Asha comes                     walking up to the library. She looks from Brendon to me with a knowing                     smile.

                “You like him, don’t you?” she says, head tilted to one                     side.

                I give her an incredulous look. What is this, middle                     school?

                “I don’t blame you. He’s cute.” She snags my arm and tugs me                     toward the library. “Come on, no more time for swooning. Parabolas await!”

                Oh, my life.

                * * *

                “Tell me I’m not the only one counting down the minutes                     until school lets out,” Sam says, collapsing onto the stool next to me in a                     dramatic fashion, half sprawled over the art table.

                It must be a long day for him if he’s commiserating to me, of                     all people. I know the feeling. This has been the longest, most hellish week of                     my entire life.

                I pull a sympathetic face and write on my whiteboard. You are not alone.

                “I think I’m going to need the weekend just to recuperate from                     all the studying I did this week,” he says. “I had two major projects due and                     four big tests. That’s inhumane.” He sighs, pushing his head up and propping it                     against his open palm. “Asha told me you’re coming to Rosie’s again.”