The WORLD’S HEAVIEST APPLE is about four pounds; the HEAVIEST PEAR is about six and a half pounds; the HEAVIEST MANGO is over seven and a half pounds. And it feels like I ate them all as a fruit salad.

“You can’t tell anybody,” I say to Jesse as soon as we’re in the hallway.

“Is this why you didn’t want me interviewing Pops? Because you thought I’d find out?”

“No! Maybe? I don’t know.”

“You lied to me.”

“I know. I had to though.”

Jesse stops by his locker and puts his books inside. I wait for him.

He starts walking again. “I get it, I guess.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean. I get jealous of the record stuff sometimes, but I wouldn’t want anybody to know about a world record for”—he leans over and whispers—“ diarrhea.”

“Hold on.” I grab Jesse’s arm and pull him to the side. “Look. You can’t say anything to anybody.” I look him right in the eyes so he knows how serious I am. “Please.” I’m borderline begging.

“I won’t say anything. And when I do my paper on Pops, I’ll mention the record stuff, but I won’t say what he got a record for.”

I shake my head. “No. You don’t get it. We didn’t break a record. At all.”

Jesse’s forehead furrows. “Wait. So you lied lied.”

I can’t look at him. His eyes narrow with disgust. Of course he’s disgusted. Perfect Jesse would never lie. Why would he? There’s no reason to when you’re perfect.

“You’re going to have to tell everybody. I’m not lying for you.” He shivers like he’s sick at the very thought.

I focus on my right shoe. The lace is untied. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Jesse says, and he starts to leave.

“Wait!” I stop him. “But not today, okay?”

Perfect Jesse crosses his arms. “It’s not gonna get any easier.”

“But let me be the one to tell people. Give me time—a week at the most. It’s just—you know Brandon made me look like a fool in class. Let me recover from that first. This can’t all happen at once.” And I can’t be known as the liar. That’s worse than being a record-breaking failure.

He huffs. “I’m not lying for you,” he says again.

“I promise. You won’t have to.”

As soon as we get inside the cafeteria, Jesse splits from me to go through the lunch line.

I go to our usual table. Jason and Luke are already there. I sit down before I realize I forgot my lunch in my locker. I’m not hungry anyway. The invisible fruit salad is still heavy in my stomach.

A few minutes later, Jesse sits next to me and says, “Have y’all had Computer yet today? Did you read that article about the food-poisoning record in Abilene?”

Jason and Luke say they didn’t read it. Justin says, “I don’t have that class until sixth period.”

I stay silent.

Jesse picks up one of his school-issued nachos, and he shakes it until a glop of chunky, melted cheese drops to his tray. “I doubt they really set the record. This school has poisoned way more people than that.” He pops the chip in his mouth, chews it, and swallows. “Anything you want to add, Milo?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“Nothing?” Jesse says. “Seems like it’d be a terrific opportunity.”

This is giving me time?

Jason unwraps a Twinkie and shoves it into his mouth all at once.

“Geez!” says Luke. “That’s disgusting.”

“Sorry,” Jason mumbles, his mouth still full. A crumb flies out and lands in front of me.

I don’t waste the opportunity to make Jesse back off. I pick it up and eat it.

“Ewwwww!” Luke says.

Jesse gags, thanks to his easily triggered reactions.

I shrug. “Forgot my lunch.”