Chapter 10
TEN
Patrick
“Slow down.” I smash my phone to my ear while covering my other one with my hand to drown out the street noise. “You did what with the scarf?”
“I wrapped it around my face, of course, but then he goes and freaking pulls it down!”
Sara’s been my best friend since we started at Eagle Gate four years ago, so I’m used to her blustery panic.
I like that I’m the first person she calls or texts when she needs to vent.
It makes me feel important. Plus, she’s given me access to her blog, where she documents her encounters in this funny, relatable way.
Her writing makes me laugh out loud sometimes, and she knows there’s nothing I love more than a good laugh.
I joke around a lot and can be super-unserious, but Sara is someone I trust with my own problems too. It’s why we’re so close.
Sara doesn’t live that far from me, so I started walking to her building as soon as I heard the stress in her tone.
The truth is, I missed her at karaoke earlier.
She always picks the most random songs—I honestly never know what to expect—and that’s half the fun.
Tammy’s cool, but she chooses these long power ballads that put me to sleep.
Sara’s good at getting Tammy to pick something more upbeat, so this tutoring thing is already getting in the way.
I pause at a crosswalk, waiting for traffic to clear. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, Patrick! I seriously almost fainted!”
“That’s hilarious.” The intersection clears, and I dart across. “So you think he remembers you, then?”
“I guess not.” A crinkle, then a crunch. I’d bet a hundred bucks she’s eating cheese puffs, but I doubt she’d take me up on another bet. “He calls me a weirdo, and, sure, I’m bad at calculus, but at least I’m not stupid enough to not recognize someone I’ve seen before.”
I sidestep a puddle. “Feisty, Sara Lin.”
“Agh, you’re right. I shouldn’t say that about him. It’s mean.” She sighs. “Gah! I still can’t believe I asked if I could kiss him. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Calm down.” I’ve reached the final intersection.
The crossing signal ushers me forward, so I sprint across the street and slide through her building’s double doors.
Fragrant lemongrass hits my nostrils when I step into the lobby, a scent I’ve come to associate with her over time.
I’ve been here a lot. “I bet he doesn’t even remember that was you. ”
“You think so?”
I take the stairs two at a time because I don’t want to risk losing service in the elevator. “Yeah, he would’ve said something by now, right?”
“I guess so.”
“Yeah, he would have. For sure.” I push open the stairwell door and saunter down her hall, pausing when I’m near her front door. “Hey, I’m kinda hungry. You hungry?”
“Are you kidding? I’m starving.” Her tone brightens. “Hot pot? But—ugh, I don’t even want to go outside in case I run into him.”
I glance around. Empty. “Nah, no worries. The coast is clear.”
“What? Oh!” On the other end, I hear her scrambling. She must have accidentally stepped on the cheese puff bag, but she seems unbothered. There’s elation in her voice. “Are you outside? What the heck, Patrick!”
Before I can confirm, she flings open the front door.
I grin. “Surprise.”
We hang up our phones. She’s wearing a striped pink shirt that matches the scrunchie in her hair, which is half up, half down.
Sara cut her hair before senior year because she wanted a sophisticated and chic look, something that made her look older and wiser and less like a child.
It worked, if you ask me. She got bangs, too, except she’s always pinning them back so they’re out of her face.
Her eyes dance with excitement. “Hot pot?”
“Fine.” I’m only acting like I’m bothered. I love hot pot. “I’ll let you choose tonight’s meal even though it’s my money. My treat, after all.”
She tugs a lavender sweater over her head then slips into her sneakers. “Hey, I’m the one who gave you all that money, you dork.”
I laugh. “You didn’t give me this much.”
I reach into my pocket and then theatrically display an array of twenties.
“Yeah, I did, Patrick.” She closes the door behind her, locking it with her key. “Even more than that, actually.”
“Nuh-uh, just look”—I wave the money in her face—“at all these bills.”
She playfully swats me away. “You already spent half of it, didn’t you?”
“I’ll never tell.”
It’s clear she doesn’t want to wait around for the elevator and risk running into Subwayboy, so we take the stairs.
Sara’s smart—really, she is—it’s just calculus that doesn’t stick.
And she’s already had a hard day. Nobody wants to hang at school longer than they have to, so she deserves this.
Yeah, most of it is her money, but her cash has brought us together now, if you think about it, and that’s what really counts.
When she grins up at me, an enthusiastic skip in her step, I know this was a good idea. It’s senior year, she’s my best friend, and we’re as inseparable as ever.
I’d bet anything that isn’t going to change.