I Wish You All the Best Page 8

  “I messed up on the shading at the back, and the eyes are way too dark for where the light is supposed to be coming from.”

  “Ben, this is pretty awesome.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “No, I mean it. You need to give yourself more credit, dude.” He hands my phone back, and I feel that sting.

  “Thanks.” I slide the phone back into my pocket. “So what are you doing here so early?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” He leans back, trying to turn around without getting another wedgie.

  “I asked you first.”

  “Choir practice.” He grins.

  “No way.” I try my best not to laugh. “Really?”

  “Ha!” Nathan tosses his head back. “How gullible are you?”

  “Shut up.” I shove him.

  “For real though, I’m here for student council.”

  “Serious this time?”

  “One hundred and ten percent. Our lovely president, Stephanie, has to work after school and wanted to go ahead and start planning Spring Fling stuff. It isn’t even for another few weeks, but there’s a lot to do.” Nathan tries to keep back a yawn but fails miserably, wiping at his eyes.

  “Spring Fling?” I ask.

  “You know how most schools are obsessed with football and homecoming?”

  I nod. I’m all too familiar with Spirit Week, and the pep rallies, and the football game, and dances.

  “Well, here at good ol’ North Wake High we’re more of a baseball crowd, but that season doesn’t start until the spring, so we have Spring Fling. Just take everything you’d normally do during homecoming but crammed into March instead of November. There’s even a dance.”

  “What’s the theme?”

  “A Night Under the Stars!” He accentuates every word by sticking his hand in the air. “It’s going to be about as fun as you’d imagine.”

  “Sounds like it.” I haven’t been to any dances since middle school, and those were pretty sad excuses to corral students in the gym for an hour and listen to “clean” versions of popular songs.

  “My vote was for Godzilla Attack, but that was shelved pretty fast.”

  “They turned that down?” I pause. “Can’t believe it.”

  “My, my, someone took his smartass pills this morning.” Nathan bumps into me with his shoulder. “So spill. What are you doing here?”

  “Thomas wanted to come in early to grade some papers. Figured I’d get some peace and quiet while I was here.”

  “Oh.” Nathan glances around. “I can leave if you want me to, then.” He makes like he’s going to stand up.

  “No,” I say, before I even know I’ve opened my mouth. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know,” he starts to say, relaxing back into his spot, “I sort of thought you might be mad at me for something. If I did something to make you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.”

  “No, it’s not you.” I sigh, wishing it was as simple as telling him the truth. “I’ve, um … just been going through some personal things.”

  “Oh.” He spreads out his long legs. Really, how is it even possible for someone to have legs that long? “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay. So, what do you want to talk about?”

  “Don’t know, you got anything on your mind?” I ask.

  “Not really? Maybe collapsing in on myself at the idea of dealing with all these school events, and homework, and college letters coming in, but that’s not exactly great conversation.”

  “Right,” I agree wholeheartedly.

  “So we’ll sit here in silence?” Nathan pushes himself forward a bit, leaning his head back. “I’m cool with that. The world’s too loud sometimes.”

  “You’re the last person I’d expect to say that.” I sneak a look at him, grateful that his eyes are closed. He’d make good money as a model, honestly. He has those sharp cheekbones and that smatter of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

  Striking. That’s the word.

  “Underneath this smooth and handsome exterior lies the soul of an isolated poet, Ben.” Nathan cracks a smile. He’s even got dimples, how is that fair? “Can’t you tell?”

  “I never would’ve guessed.”

  “Damn. Really?” He laughs. “I should work on that image. What do you think? More brooding? Or should I start wearing black turtlenecks?”

  “Definitely more turtlenecks.” I grab my sketchbook again to work on the rose, not even bothering with the reference photo this time. “Don’t forget the black coffee though, and the hipster glasses with fake lenses.”

  “Blegh, black coffee? Why would you punish yourself like that?”

  “Hey, you’re the bohemian writer. It’s for the aesthetic,” I add.

  “Noted.” He lets out a long, slow sigh. “If I fall asleep, you promise to wake me up?”

  “Sure.”

  “Pinky promise?” He sticks out his hand, pinky finger extended, and for a second, I just stare at it before it occurs to me that he’s serious.

  I wrap my own finger around his.

  “Pinky promise,” I say.

  “This is where you go during lunch, isn’t it?” Nathan asks, his eyes still shut.

  “Sometimes,” I whisper after what’s probably too long a silence. “Or I go to the art room.” I’m not quite sure why I tell him the truth. Maybe I owe him that much at least?

  “Seems lonely.”

  “Sometimes the world is too loud,” I repeat back to him.

  That makes him laugh again. “Touché.” He takes another deep breath. “I guess there’s no point in asking you to join me for lunch today, huh?”

  There’s this thud in my chest. Make a friend, Ben. Make a friend. “I’ll go.”

  He opens an eye. “What?”

  “I’ll go,” I say again. “For today at least.”

  “Are you serious?” He nearly leaps up from his spot.

  “Pinky promise,” I say.

  He grins, and he can’t stop giggling as he takes my finger.

  “You really want me to go to the cafeteria that bad?”

  “It’s the sort of experience you only get in high school, my friend.” He winks. “Besides, Meleika and Sophie have wanted to meet you for a while now.”

  “Meleika and Sophie?”

  “My friends.”

  “Oh.” I’m not sure why I imagined it would be just the two of us, but maybe with more people there the chances of it getting awkward will be diminished? At least a little.

  We sit in silence for a bit before. Nathan starts humming a song I don’t recognize, but that dies out quickly. At one point I’m sure he’s fallen asleep, because his breathing changes and there’s a slight hitch. When the parking lot begins to fill with cars, I nudge him awake, but he doesn’t seem groggy or tired or anything.

  “Almost that time?” he asks.

  “Almost,” I say, closing my sketchbook and sliding it into my backpack.

  “Did you finish the rose?”

  I stand up and brush the gravel off my jeans. “Not yet.”

  Nathan grabs his own bag, checking something on his phone. “Can I see it when you’re done?”

  “Yeah,” I say without hesitating.

  “Hey, do you have any paper?” Then he pauses. “Any that you don’t use for drawing? I’d hate to steal the artist’s resources.”

  I grab my bag and dig through the front pocket, looking for the pack of sticky notes I keep there just in case. In case of what? I don’t really know.

  “And a writing utensil?”

  “So needy,” I tease, reaching for a pen.

  He writes something down and folds the sticky note around the pen, handing it back to me before taking off across the parking lot and shouting back, “See you in Chem.”

  I unfold the note and stare at the ten-digit number he’s written inside, along with the message scrawled messi
ly underneath.

  Text me ;)

  “Can I help?” Nathan leans over the counter in Chemistry to watch me wash the beakers. Today we’ve been messing around with some chemical reactions. According to Thomas, our next big quiz is going to be a lab.

  Toward the middle of the period I pretty much took over. Nathan had nearly poured too much of a solution into one of the beakers, which would not have been good considering I don’t think either of us would look very attractive without our eyebrows.

  I don’t even mind, really. I like chemistry. Even with the numbers and the formulas, it’s more interesting than math. Except my gloves are way too big for my hands, so I have to keep pulling them up, and then water gets in the tips of the fingers and the whole thing makes them feel totally pointless, but Thomas said it’s unsafe to wash without them, so I guess I’ll have to suffer.

  “I think I’ve got it,” I say.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, thanks though.”

  “You still up for lunch?”

  I glance out the window of the classroom. Even if I wasn’t, there’s really nowhere to go. Apparently, Mrs. Liu is out sick today, and I really don’t want to spend any more time than I need to around her substitute. And whatever sunlight was hanging around this morning is now hiding behind thick layers of black clouds and rain. So the quad’s out too.

  “Don’t really have a choice, do I?” I tease, rinsing out the last beaker.

  “Not unless you plan on making a paper boat out of your sketches, which is not something I recommend you doing, as it would be a huge waste of talent. So yes, you have no choice.”

  “I could go to the art room.”

  “There you go, poking holes in my plan. Besides, I hear Mrs. Liu is out today or something.”

  “So you orchestrated this thunderstorm and made Mrs. Liu sick, just so I’d have to have lunch with you?”

  “Nooo.” He drags out the O sound. “But if you happen to see an evil-looking weather machine in someone’s backyard, I most definitely do not live there.”

  “No worries, I won’t call the FBI or anything. And I already told you yes.”

  “Just making sure you weren’t having second thoughts.”

  “Funny, I think all I have these days are second thoughts.”

  Nathan gives me a sort of look, but then he just laughs me off.

  “Hope you two are getting real excited about cleaning your station,” Thomas says from his desk.

  “Sorry, Mr. W!” Nathan grabs a wet rag and starts wiping down our desk, smiling like a goof the entire time.

  The moment I step through the cafeteria doors with Nathan I want to turn around and run. Maybe a paper boat isn’t such a terrible idea. I can probably make something fairly safe with a few layers. But leaving is impossible, thanks to the crowd of my fellow classmates pushing us farther and farther in.

  “Sorry, it’s a bit of a jungle in here. Don’t fight the crowd, that’s how you get trampled.” Nathan takes me by the shoulder and leads me to this set of tables that’s in an elevated part of the cafeteria. We steer right toward the one at the far end, settled in the corner where two girls are sitting together.

  “Ladies.” Nathan grabs my shoulders. “This is the mysterious Benjamin De Backer you’ve heard so much about.”

  Both the girls look around my age. One of them has dark brown skin, darker than Nathan’s, and her hair is done in this mix of black and blue braids. She’s currently unpacking her lunch from this polka-dot lunch box that I have to admit I’m sort of in love with.

  The other girl is Korean American, thick-frame glasses sitting on the very edge of her nose, wearing a denim jacket decorated in at least a dozen different buttons and enamel pins. They both look up when Nathan starts talking.

  “Ben, this is Meleika Lewis.” He points to the girl with the braids, and Meleika waves at me.

  “You can call me Mel.” Meleika smiles.

  Then he points to the other girl with all the buttons. “And this is Sophie Yeun.” Nathan claps his hands. “I’m gonna go get in line. You want anything, Ben?”

  It’s then that I realize I don’t have any money on me, and I doubt there’s been any magically added to the student account I’ve yet to touch. “No, thanks, I’m good.” I’m used to not eating until I get to Hannah’s house anyway.

  “Okay, girls, don’t tear him apart.” Nathan claps me on the back and leaves me with two girls I’ve known for all of twenty seconds. I take the empty seat in front of me, right across from Meleika, mostly so I’m not standing there like some total creep.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ben.” Meleika tears open a bag of chips and offers them to me. “Want one?”

  “I’m good, thanks though.”

  “Nathan’s told us a lot about you,” she says.

  “He has?”

  Sophie answers first. “He said you ate lunch out on the quad, with the burnouts.”

  “I do.” Then I think about what that implies. “I don’t smoke though. It’s just quieter out there.”

  “I’m sure you’ve at least gotten a contact high, dude. The quad is big, but not that big.” Sophie laughs, mostly to herself, while I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

  “So, Benjamin, why haven’t you taken advantage of our cafeteria’s fine dining options?” Meleika glances over to the neighboring table, where there are other students sitting with trays filled with something that looks relatively close to pizza. I mean, it’s square, and that’s probably a pepperoni slice?

  I shrug. “Never felt the urge.”

  “Well, at least now you get to hang out with the two greatest people at this school,” Sophie says, beaming.

  “I don’t see them around.” I laugh so they know it’s a joke, and they both start chuckling, so I’m taking that as a good sign. I’m actually a little proud of that one.

  “He’s got jokes,” Meleika adds.

  Sophie taps her nails on the table. They’re painted this really neat turquoise. “I like you, Ben.”

  “Thanks.” I feel like I’m grinning too much. “That’s a first.” I try to laugh.

  “Is the interrogation over?” Nathan sits his tray on the table with the same suspicious-looking pizza as the other table.

  “Not even close, but he’s passed the first test.” Meleika bites into her sandwich.

  “Is there going to be a quiz at the end of this?” I ask.

  “He’s funny, unlike a certain someone.” Sophie eyes Nathan.

  “My jokes are always fantastic, thank you very much.” I can’t tell if Nathan’s pretending to be offended or if he actually is.

  “Oh yeah?” Meleika asks. “Go on, tell Ben the one about the scarecrow.”

  “Fine.” Nathan turns to me. “Why did the scarecrow get an award?”

  “Um.” I actually try to think of any possible answers, but I’ve got nothing. “Why?”

  “Because he was outstanding in his field!” He throws his hands out, big goofy grin on his face.

  All three of us just stare at him, blankly.

  “You get it?” he asks. “’Cause you put them in fields?”

  “Oh, I get it. It’s even funnier when you have to explain it,” I say, before I turn to Sophie. “You’re right.”

  “See?”

  “Whatever.” Nathan rolls his eyes and bites into the pizza. “Y’all just don’t appreciate good humor when you hear it.”

  “Sure …” Sophie says under her breath. “So, Ben, do you like it here?”

  “It’s okay,” I say.

  Meleika huffs. “You picked a great time to transfer,” she adds sarcastically.

  “You guys dressing up for Spirit Week?” Sophie asks.

  Meleika pulls out her phone. “Yeah. I need the extra credit in Biology.”

  “Extra credit?” I ask. I saw the list of theme days, but nothing about extra credit.

  “Teachers will give you credit if you dress up for the theme days,” Nathan says. “Sometimes it’s just t
en points on something, but some teachers will drop your lowest test or give you a free one hundred if you dress up all five days.”

  Meleika giggles. “It’s probably the only way I’m passing Bio.”

  “Told you to get a tutor.” Sophie sighs, like this is the thousandth time she’s said these exact words.

  “And I told you I don’t have the time. Between planning for this dance, studying, and work, I’ve got nothing but weekends, and no one ever does weekends.” Then Meleika leans against Sophie, using her shoulder as a pillow. “If you loved me, you’d tutor me.”

  Sophie scoffs. “Yeah, I know next to nothing about biology. Your grades might go down if I tutored you.”

  “They’re going to go down anyway!” Meleika groans.

  Nathan pushes his tray away, his food left half-finished. “I’ll need one for Algebra, but no one’s put up any listings yet.”

  “People are busy, dude,” Sophie says.

  “You need a tutor?” I ask, and I’m not sure why. Oh God, I’m not really doing this, am I?

  “Yeah, it’s kicking my ass.” Nathan rubs his forehead like just talking about math has given him a headache.

  Yep, I am apparently doing this, because no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop my mouth from moving. “Oh, I mean, I could …”

  “Really?” He raises an eyebrow.

  I do sort of owe him for showing me around the school and trying to make me feel welcome. “I don’t know how good I am at tutoring, but I can try.” Besides, if he’s good in English, he might be willing to help me too.

  “I don’t know if you want to do that,” Sophie says. “He’s a bit of a lost cause.”

  Nathan turns back toward her. “Bite me.”

  “Just saying,” she sings.

  “We’ll meet up this weekend. Okay?” he says.

  “Oh, yeah. Sure.” I probably nod a bit too enthusiastically, while I try not to think too hard about what I’ve just volunteered to do.

  I’m just as nervous about this second session as I was for the first. This time Dr. Taylor actually has something to discuss. We’re going to have to spend the whole hour talking about my panic attack, no more nice introductions or paperwork. This time it’s all about me.

  Maybe that’s a good thing.

  I want to know what’s wrong with me.