I was going to be late to math class because I’d forgotten what I looked like. I’d eventually have to make up a believable excuse, but it would be a while before I tore myself away from the bathroom mirror.
The face that stared back at me was familiar, yet for the first time, I had trouble recognizing it. I studied my thin, V-shaped eyebrows, small nose, and pointy chin. Not perfect, but at least symmetrical. Pale skin with freckles instead of a tan, hazel eyes, which sometimes looked green. Decent smile, if I was careful not to show too many teeth. I was slim, with slight curves, but nothing like Cora’s perfect hourglass.
It was my hair that generally ruined the picture. I groaned inwardly and ran wet fingers through the uneven coils. Most days, I’d gather up the mass of brown and twist it into a bun or braid, but that morning, I’d loaded it with gel and let it hang loose over my shoulders. Big mistake. The problem was that it didn’t hang, or flow, like good hair. Instead, it rose and tried to take flight, slowly expanding and swelling upward until it appeared to be taking over the world.
I sprinkled more water into the frizz and twisted the strands hard around my fingers. Better, a little better, but not much. I still looked like the “before” girl. I wasn’t sure what part of me Jonah thought was pretty, but I really wasn’t seeing it. Maybe he’d just felt bad for me and wanted to put Cora in her place.
I frowned into the mirror, grabbed my schoolbag, and pushed the bathroom door open. There was a little shout on the other side.
“Sorry!” I called out as I rushed to catch the handle of the swinging door.
“It’s not just the blondes in this school. Even the doors are vicious.” It was Jonah, of course. Just my luck.
“I’m sorry,” I told him, “I didn’t think there would be anyone in the hall—”
“No, it’s fine. I’m supposed to be in class now, but I’m actually lost again. I’ve been wandering the halls hoping someone would take pity on me.”
He was grinning at me, and I noticed for the first time how blue his eyes were and that his brows tilted up when he smiled, as if his grin had caught him by surprise.
“I’m also late,” I explained. “I was just in the bathroom because—” I stopped in the middle of my excuse and realized, to my horror, that there was really no way to finish that. What was I going to say? The truth is, Jonah, I was staring at myself in the mirror and wondering how you could possibly find me attractive.
I should have let it go and moved on. But I was suddenly and unreasonably preoccupied with finishing my sentence. Even if it meant making a complete fool of myself. What had I been doing in the bathroom? Well—
“Stomach trouble,” I blurted out. “I ate a bad burrito.”
Oh God. What the hell was wrong with me?
Jonah blinked once; his smile faded, and his eyebrows descended. A little bubble of panic began to rise up in my throat. This had to be the worst of awkward silences. Was that really the first thing that I’d told him about myself? Indigestion? I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out; my mind was racing, grasping blindly for some way to take my last words back. But what was I supposed to say? Oh, come on, Jonah, everyone at Fallstaff High introduces themselves that way!
He was staring at me quietly, the faintest hint of laughter in his eyes. Then his lips twitched. “Thank you so much for telling me about it,” he murmured with mock gravity. “I feel very close to you now.”
I felt the color rising to my cheeks. He was obviously teasing me, and I really couldn’t blame him. This was some kind of a personal record for me; I’d managed to strike out in less than one minute flat.
“I have to go—” I began. But even that harmless statement sounded weird now, considering what had just happened. “—to class,” I finished miserably. “Just to class. I have to go to class, not to the—” Oh God. Please just kill me now.
He started shuffling through his bag as I sputtered to a stop. “It looks like I have math now,” he said, pulling out his schedule and smoothing it out against the wall. “Do you have any idea where that would be?”
Did I know where math was? I took a deep breath and felt myself relax a little. An easy question. Come on, April, you can do this.
“It depends—which teacher do you have?”
“Roberts.”
I glanced down at my own schedule and groaned inwardly. Same period, same teacher. A floor away. A two-minute walk at least.
“You’re in my class,” I told him. “It’s downstairs. Come with me. I’ll show you.” Somehow my breathing had slowed a little; my heart was no longer drumming in my ears. “I’m April Wesley,” I said as we headed down the stairs.
“Jonah. Nice to meet you.”
“So, did you just move to Baltimore?” Good job, April. This is how normal people introduce themselves.
“Yeah, just a few weeks ago.”
“You’re from Boston?”
“Uh, yeah, actually. Wait, how did you—?”
Oh. Oh crap!
I realized my mistake as the words came out of my mouth. I wasn’t supposed to know that. Now he’d guess that I’d tried to Facebook stalk him. How much more pathetic could I be? Who looks up classmates before they meet them? Bad Burrito Stalker Girl, that’s who.
I had to say something clever quickly—anything, to distract him…
“April, did you…did you look me up?”
Too late.
Oh well, I thought. I might as well own up to it. Embrace the weirdness and tell the truth. It was over anyway. We were almost at the classroom door.
“Well, no, not just you. I looked up all the new kids,” I admitted, my voice quavering a little. “My best friend switched schools this year, and I really didn’t want to come back here without her.”
It wasn’t much of an explanation, but it was the best I could come up with. Besides, it didn’t really matter what I said. All he had to do now was push the door open, step into the classroom, and pick a chair somewhere far away from me.
Why wasn’t he moving then? Why was he looking at me like that? There was a strange flicker of a smile in his eyes, but his face was sober, quiet. One hand was on the doorknob, and the other played with his bag strap.
“You’re missing your best friend,” he said finally. It was more of a statement than a question.
I nodded. “Attached at the hip since second grade,” I replied, mimicking Kristin’s expression, then paused, suddenly self-conscious again. Why had I just told him that? Why would he care?
His eyes were still on me, but they were darker now, and the laughter in them had drained away. “Two friends against the world,” he murmured, almost inaudibly.
“Something like that.” I smiled. “I’ve got nothing against the world or anything. But things were perfect when it was just the two of us. We didn’t need anybody else.”
He nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.” And with a quick shove, he pushed the classroom door open.