“And I was talking during class,” I told my mom. “That’s why I got detention. They have rules about that, apparently. Is that chunky or creamy? Chunky makes me gag.”
My dad just rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.”
“Ha! That’s nothing! You should meet my friend Roux. Oh my God, she redefines drama. She—what?”
Both of my parents were looking at me. “Friend?” my dad said.
“You made friends?” my mom asked me. It sounded like someone was throttling her while she was talking.
“Well, yeah, I kind of have to make friends with people if I’m going to do this job.” I stuck the spoon directly into the (smooth, thankfully) peanut butter. “What, do you think I went to that Halloween party by myself?”
My parents exchanged the longest glance in the history of the world. “Honey,” my dad said, “you know you can’t really be friends with them. It’s ‘friends’ in quotation marks, right?”
The thing was, I did know that. Somewhere in the deep, shameful part of my heart, I knew that I wouldn’t always be friends with Roux, or even together with Jesse. It wasn’t in the job description, and I had watched my own parents pack up and move so many times that I had lost track. None of this was a surprise.
But that was before I had made friends.
“I know,” I told them. “But what else am I supposed to call Roux? My faux-friend? That’ll sound great.”
“Roo?” my dad asked. “Like Kang—?”
“She doesn’t like that,” I interrupted him. “Seriously. She’ll cut you.”
“Ah, wonderful.”
“Her name is French. And besides, she doesn’t have any other friends. I’m, like, her social life raft. Frightening, I know, but true.”
“Please don’t talk with your mouth full,” my mom said. “Especially when you’re eating peanut butter.”
I hopped down off the stool and gathered up my bag and the jar of peanut butter. “Fine. I have to study, anyway. Calculus quiz tomorrow. It should be easy but the teacher likes to throw curve balls and I hate when that happens. So annoying.” I was babbling, I knew it. “Anyhoo, you know where to find me and my one true friend, the peanut butter jar. We’ll be hitting the books.”
I could practically feel my parents’ stares as I hurried off to my room, and who could blame them? I sounded like a peanut-butter-obsessed loonster. But I just turned on some music that Roux had sent me and immediately called her up. “Hi,” I said. “It’s me. Can you talk?”
“No, I’m sorry, I’m busy learning how to knit. Yes, of course I can talk! Are you crazy? You’re the only person who ever calls me, anyway. My social life has been worn down to the nub.”
Seriously, my parents wouldn’t believe that Roux was real, even if they met her.
“Okay, anyway,” I said, “do you promise not to freak out?”
“No.”
“Roux, c’mon.”
“Well, clearly you’re about to tell me something that’s worth freaking out about. So no, I cannot promise that. I have to freak out about things, I’m your friend.”
Just hearing her use the word made me feel guilty. I hated that. “So Jesse Oliver asked me out on a date.”
And true to her word, Roux proceeded to freak out.
“Get out of here!” she squealed after screaming directly into her phone and causing temporary deafness in my ear. “He did? Even though you two already sucked face?”
“Ew.”
“That is so romantic, I’m gonna die. And then you’ll have to revive me so I can come over and help you get ready. Are you going to get your hair blown out? I would if I were you. I mean, yes, the natural look is all well and good, but Jesse Oliver asked you out on a date, so this is no time to mess around. Even though you already sucked face.”
“Can you please stop referring to it as … as that?” I said. “Really, it sounds awful. Like two floppy mackerels going at it.”
“Okay, sorry. I’m just so excited for you! Did you tell your parents? What did they say?”
“They’re …” I searched around for the right words and came up with the wrong ones instead. “They’re not home yet. I’ll tell them later.”
“Do you think they’re going to make him be all chivalrous and come over to pick you up? Oh, I hope he brings flowers. Not roses, though. Blech. So cheap looking. Are you allergic to pollen? If you are, then I’ll tell him so—”
“Roux?” I said. “Pump the brakes.”
“Sorry.” I could still hear her giggling happily, though. “Sorry, I just get excited. I should take a pill.”
“Yes, you should,” I said, before realizing that Roux probably would take a pill. “Actually, no, don’t take a pill. Just answer me one question.”
“For you? Two.”
I glanced out my window at the sea of rooftops and fire escapes and cloudy skies. “What exactly am I supposed to wear on a first date?”
There was a pause before she answered, “You are so lucky that we’re friends.”
Chapter 21
On Thursday, the day before my date with Jesse, I got a note in my locker that wasn’t really a note, just a careful ink drawing of a wide waterfall surrounded by café tables and trees, all sketched on heavy cardstock. I knew an invitation to meet Angelo at Paley Park when I saw one, so I made my way up to Fifty-Third Street after school, thanks to the always-present-and-always-creepy town car that the Collective was making me use.