“Maybe,” Katie hedges. “There are a few things we have to attend to first.”
I’m hoping this means she’s going to see Violet. But I don’t say anything with Quinn there. He is an ex, after all.
“Well, I hope to see you at the slam,” he tells Katie. Then he turns to me and says, “And I really hope to see you.”
“Um … sure?” I say.
Quinn laughs to himself and walks away.
“I’m not sure I like your exes,” I tell Katie.
“Quinn? He’s harmless. All snark and no bite.” She looks down at her phone. “I hate to say it, but we should probably head in. It would be lame to fail out in June because of attendance.”
“Are you going to call her?” I ask.
“Yes. No. One of the two.”
“Promise me. By the time we meet back here after school, you’ll have communicated with her in some way.”
“No. I can’t promise you. Because I don’t want to break any promise I make to you, and I’m not really sure that’s a promise I can keep.”
“You should call her. You should try to explain.”
“I know. I will. Unless she doesn’t want to talk. I wouldn’t blame her for that.”
“No, but you’ll blame yourself.”
She slides off the car. Gets her bag from the backseat. Says “I know” one more time, then heads off into school.
* * *
Ryan finds me right before lunch.
“This isn’t cool,” he says.
I’m at my locker. Caught.
“What isn’t cool?” I ask dumbly.
“The silent treatment. The look of terror on your face right now. The way you’re acting like this is all my fault.”
“I never said it was all your fault.”
“You might as well have.” He stops, stares down at the floor, then stares back up at me. “You disappeared last night.”
“I was right out back. If you’d looked for me, you would have found me.”
“But you didn’t want me to look for you, did you?”
Now it’s my turn to stare down at the floor, be honest. “No.”
“Exactly. Not cool.”
He stops, and I know it’s because people are passing us in the hall. People who could hear.
When it’s safe, he goes on. “I saw you talking to Quinn this morning. That was a bit of a surprise.”
“It was nothing. He’s Katie’s ex.”
“Well, I’m sure he told you about his poetry slam thing.” He pulls a flier out of his pocket and unfolds it. Queer Youth Speak Out, it says at the top. “Not very subtle. They even printed it out on pink paper, just in case you didn’t pick up on the fact that it was gay.” He holds it to his nose and inhales. “Mmm … smells like Whitman.”
“Are you going?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Are you going to read?” I ask, even though I know the answer’s going to be no. Ryan’s gay poems live in a very private place.
“Maybe.”
Oh. “Maybe?”
“What may be, may be.” He smiles. “You’ll just have to show up and see.”
What is he telling me? I don’t know what he’s telling me.
“Taylor will be there, and I think some of his friends are going to be there. You should join us. If I go through with it, I want my cheering section to be bigger than Quinn’s.”
I want to be in control. I don’t want him to see what I’m really feeling. But my walls aren’t that high when it comes to him. The truth flies right over.
“Well, if Taylor’s going to be there, you don’t really need me, do you?” I spit out.
And Ryan’s walls must be low, too, because he grabs my arm, right there in the hall, right where anyone could turn the corner and see.
“I’m only going to say this to you once, okay? I like Taylor. I’m excited about Taylor. I may want to date Taylor, if everything goes well. But I have known Taylor for a total of about five seconds, while I have known you since the mountains were made and the rivers were formed. I know we’re in a weird place right now, but I want you to step out of it and be there for me. Taylor is a boy, and you are my best friend. Taylor is a date, and you are my calendar. Understood?”
I know I should say I understand. I know I should understand. But there’s still a part of me that hates how easy it is for him to say these things. He wants to put it in perspective, but it’s all his perspective.
Also, I don’t want to be a best friend if I can’t also be a boy in his eyes. I don’t want to be a calendar if I’ll never get a date.
“Are you really going to read?” I ask him. “In public?”
He smiles. “You can be such an Oblivious Oliver. Like I said, you’ll just have to show up and see. Maybe you’re not the only one who can dance on the bar—so to speak.”
He’s got me, and he knows enough to leave before he loses me. The result is a locker-side muddle. I don’t have any desire to follow him into lunch, so I detour to the library again. I see Dave Hughes sitting at his table by himself. He spots me coming and clears a space.
“Are you always here at lunch?” I ask after I sit down.
“Nah. This is actually my study hall. I have third lunch.”
“Got it.”
I see he’s got the sports section on the table, and he nods that I can take it. Then he goes back to whatever he’s doing on his laptop.