I nod warily. While he acted okay with making me the tuna melt and for most of the night, I still remember his conversation with Asha. I know his tolerance toward me is only because she asked for it.
“Listen,” he says, leaning closer to me, “I told Asha I’d give you a chance, because she asked. But if you’re going to be hanging around, I need you to be honest with me about a few things.” His eyes narrow. “You’re not messing with her, are you?”
I shake my head hard. I don’t even know how I could mess with Asha. Hasn’t he noticed that I’m in no position to screw anyone over? I’m the lowest of the low.
He studies me carefully. “I hope not,” he says. “Asha is a good person. Better than most. She’s not like you.”
That stings. I frown and reach for my whiteboard. You don’t know me.
“You’re right,” he says. “But I know Asha. She sees the good in people, even when she probably shouldn’t. She’s the best friend you can have, not just some consolation prize. She doesn’t know how to be mean. If you act like you’re her friend, she’s going to believe you are. If you’re just using her to help yourself get a good grade and then drop her, she’s going to be upset. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
I can’t pretend his concern isn’t warranted. After all, my main motivation for spending time with Asha so far has been for help with my homework. But at the same time, I can’t deny that there’s something about her I genuinely like, too. Sam is right—Asha doesn’t know how to be mean. When she says something, she means exactly what she says. She isn’t like Kristen, where cutting criticisms are disguised as compliments, where everything has a double meaning. It’s refreshing to be around someone I can take at face value.
Asha is the only person who is nice to me, I write, turning the board for him to see. I don’t plan to screw that up.
He stares at my words for a while before he clears his throat. “Good,” he says softly. “Now that that’s out of the way, I have a few more questions for you.”