I sit up straighter, bracing myself for the worst.
“What’s your favorite color?”
Okay, that’s the last question I expected. I was thinking something more along the lines of Why are you such a bitch? or How dare you? or something else dripping with disdain and accusation.
“You were right when you said I know nothing about you,” he explains. “So let’s remedy that. We’ll start off easy. Tell me your favorite color.”
I try to hide a grin as I write on my board. Guess.
“Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to make this hard for me.”
I like to keep an air of mystery.
“I’m sure you do,” he says with a smile.
A smile? I’m so surprised I almost fall off the stool. It’s a nice one, too. Kind of lopsided, but cute. The fact that it’s so unexpected makes it even better. I return it with one of my own, a real one, and I feel the tension between us fading like a slowly deflating balloon.
Sam even walks me to my locker after class. He doesn’t say anything about it, just does it like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do. I appreciate the company, if only because listening to him talk helps distract me from worrying about who I might possibly run into. I text Dad to let him know I don’t know when I’ll be home since I’m being tutored after school, which isn’t really a lie; Asha said she’d help me out again. That girl is on a diehard mission to drill geometry into my head.
“Okay,” Sam says, leaning into me as some freshman barrels past us on the staircase, “favorite Peanuts character.”
He spent all of class playing this game with me—trying to guess things about me without me speaking. All I have to do is shake my head or give him the thumbs-up when he guesses correctly. So far he’s found out that my favorite color is green, my favorite vegetable is carrots and my middle name is Rose. That last one took a lot of guessing on his part.
“Let’s start with the obvious,” he says. “Charlie Brown.”