When It Happens (13 page)

“It’s too complicated to get into right now,” I say.

“Oh,” Laila says. “I thought you might finally be ready to tell us about you and the object of your desire.”

“Something happened with Dave?” Maggie asks.

I bite my lip. “Not exactly.”

Dave’s already waiting for me at his table. When I first started sitting with him, seeing him saving me a seat next to Caitlin and Matt was so exciting. Now it feels constricting. Like I don’t have a choice about what I do. And the way I practically ignored Maggie and Laila just to have the opportunity to sit with him was bogus.

We go over to Dave. He’s like, “I have no clue what this is supposed to be.” He points to his tray.

“Emu,” Laila says.

“Huh?”

“It’s emu,” Laila says. “A massive, flightless bird, indigenous to Australia. They must have had it imported. ”

“Is there anything you don’t know?” Dave asks.

“Yes.”

Everybody is quiet.

“Well, we’re going to Burger King,” I tell Dave.

“Oh, but . . . I kind of wanted to stay here today.”

“You can. I mean . . .
we’re
going.”

Dave looks pissed. “Oh. Whatever.”

Matt and Caitlin arrive like celebrities.

Caitlin says, “Hey, Sara!” Totally ignoring my friends.

I look at Dave. “So . . . bye.”

He gets up. He kisses me on the mouth. Hard.

As we’re leaving, I see Tobey across the cafeteria. He’s pressing his hands over his face. I know he saw everything. I have this sudden compulsion to run over and tell him that the kiss didn’t do it for me. That the whole reason we’re leaving is to talk about him. I want him to know everything. But of course, that’s stupid. Everyone knows once you tell a guy how much you like him, he loses all interest.

The walk to Burger King takes five minutes. Lunch hour isn’t even an hour. It’s forty-five minutes. We don’t have a lot of time, so I start talking.

“Okay. Can I tell you guys something?”

“Anything,” Maggie says.

“I didn’t look at Tobey first.”

“I knew it!” Laila shouts. She points at me. “I knew this was about him!”

“Could you say that a little louder? I think there might be someone in Africa who didn’t hear you.”

“So you’re finally admitting it.”

Maggie’s like, “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

We get to Burger King, and I run to the door. I’m letting Laila fill Maggie in on her side of it first. That way there’ll be less interruptions when I tell my side.

After we get our orders and sit down in a booth, Maggie says, “I had no idea you liked him that much! You didn’t tell me that before!”

I’m very absorbed in opening mustard packets for my onion rings.

“Must I remind you that we’re pressed for time here?” Laila chomps down on her Whopper.

I forget where I wanted to start. How do you explain something to your friends you can’t even explain to yourself?

“Okay, I’ll help,” Laila says. “When we left off, Sara did not look at Tobey first. Which implies that Tobey looked at Sara first. Which then implies that he likes her, but we already knew this because he told me. So my guess is that we’re here to talk about how you like Tobey. Since you stare at each other every single day. And since, as a bonus, as if getting to be partners with Robert in a few days isn’t enough of a reason to celebrate, I get to watch you stare at Tobey every single day
and
wipe the drool. Did I miss anything?”

“No, I think that about covers it.”

“So tell me this,” Laila says. “What do you see in him? He has, like, a point-three GPA. Where’s he going next year? Morris County Community College?”

I put extra tartar sauce on my fish sandwich.

“Just because someone isn’t making straight A’s doesn’t mean they’re stupid,” Maggie says. She looks at me. “But why exactly do you like him? Other than he’s cute, because Dave is cuter.”

“The way I feel about Tobey is totally different.”

“And what way is that?” Laila demands.

“There’s just . . . this intensity that I don’t have with Dave. It’s like . . . like the few times I’ve seen him, he makes me laugh. . . . And he’s so confident. . . . There’s something in the way he
is
that keeps pulling me in.” This is so hard to explain. How do you translate your heart? “And Dave was so mean at the mall. With Robert and Joe?”

“That was atrocious.” Maggie chews an ice cube.

“Well, I don’t know what his problem is with the lunch-table thing,” Laila says. “He obviously doesn’t want us sitting over there.”

“Excuse me,” Maggie says. “Not that we’d want to.”

“I mean, I like other stuff about him, but . . . it always feels like something’s missing.”

Maggie nods. “There’s, like . . . this void, right?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t feel the way I wanted it to. It’s like I’m forcing myself to be happy with him while I wait for it to turn into what I want.”

“And what’s that?” Laila says.

“Something real.” I smile across the table at Laila. She’s never even gone out on a date, so I can’t expect her to understand everything I’m saying. But I know she gets this part of it.

Laila smiles back. “Well, it would be nice to have you back at our table full-time.”

“I don’t know
what
you see in those people,” Maggie huffs. “Popularity is
so
overrated.”

“Seriously,” I say. “They come off like they’re all that, and meanwhile Dave’s a virgin.”

“I still can’t get over that,” Maggie says. “The boy is truly gorgeous.”

“Is he still being an ass about the sex thing?” Laila says.

He pulled that repulsive condom trick, like, a week ago, and since then he’s been over twice. At least now he’s decent enough to make out for a while before he starts begging. “I think he’s embarrassed. He’s still pushy, though.”

“He’s such a child,” Maggie says.

“Tobey wouldn’t be that pathetic,” Laila adds.

“How do you know?”

Laila rolls her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“What?” I go. “Now you like him?”

“I wasn’t going to be the one to encourage you and Tobey getting together,” Laila says. “But now . . .” Laila shakes her head. “When he was talking about you he had this look in his eyes, like . . . honesty and clarity and confidence. I haven’t seen . . . I’ve never seen any guy here look that way.”

Maggie and I stare at Laila.

“Oh my god,” Maggie says. “Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“I think it’s the sound of hell freezing over.” Maggie laughs. “Is it just me, or did Laila admit she thinks a guy is cute?”

“I didn’t say I like the whole guy,” Laila insists. “Just the eyes part.”

Maggie and I go, “Woooo!” Hearing Laila say anything remotely positive about any guy is huge.

“Too bad guys aren’t like Mr. Potato Head,” Maggie says. “Where you can pick and choose which parts you want. Then we might come up with a guy who meets your standards.”

“Never gonna happen.” Laila looks at me. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you think you should break up with Dave?” Laila asks.

“Wait,” Maggie interrupts. “Aren’t you switching partners next week?”

“Don’t remind me,” Laila moans.

“You need to give it time,” Maggie says. “Get to know Tobey and find out for sure if he’s the right guy for you. And in the meantime you can vacillate between them.”

“Vacillate?” Laila says. “What’s with the SAT vocab?”

“It’s part of achieving my goal.”

We stare at her blankly.

“You know. To be smarter.”

We stare.

Maggie puts her hands up in front of her like,
Wait till you hear this one
. “I’m reading the dictionary.”

“What, like, cover to cover?” I say.

“No. I’m doing ten new words every day. Then I’m picking one to use at least three times that day, so I can memorize it.”

“What about the other nine?” Laila says.

“Oh, yeah . . . I’m memorizing those, too.”

Laila turns back to me. “I think you should dump Dave. If you already feel this way about another guy, what does that say about your relationship with Dave?”

Maggie nods. “And Tobey totally seems like someone who’d sit at our table.”

Walking back, Laila and Maggie continue to discuss my situation. But I’m only half listening. Because what they said before is right. What I have with Dave isn’t enough for me. I visualize slow-dancing with Tobey, a Dave Matthews Band song playing, being completely happy with him. I put the image into a pink bubble and let the universe decide.

But it’s obvious that I’ve already made up my mind.

CHAPTER 22

dots

october 27, 2:54 p.m.

When Sara walks into the room, I’m nervous. I wipe a piece of lint off her chair.

I glance over at Laila. It looks like she’s already having a fight with Robert. And class hasn’t even started yet. Robert decided to stay in the class, but Mr. Hornby said he would still make the switch. I totally lucked out.

Now Sara is sitting next to me.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” she says.

And just like that, I’m not nervous anymore. It’s wild. She feels really familiar.

Everyone is doing the warm-up, which involves a lot of clapping and going “ta-tata-ta rest ta.” You can tell that everyone in here really wants to be here.There’s a comfort in being around fellow dorks with a similar purpose.

I pretend to listen to Mr. Hornby, but I’m too aware of Sara staring at the ripped knee of my jeans. I knew I should have worn less grungy ones.

Sara takes out
Vivaldi’s Four Seasons
. Which is weird because Mr. Hornby just told us to take out
Remembering the Beatles
.

“Sara?”

“Yeah?”

“I think we’re working on—”

“I know. I was just seeing something.”

I’m such an idiot. She’s not stupid. She knows what we’re doing. Why did I have to say that?

“Sorry,” I say.

“That’s okay.”

When we start working, I lean in close to Sara. She smells like flowers. But not in a perfumey kind of way. More like in an it’s-just-the-way-she-is kind of way.

I can’t get over how comfortable I am with her. We just click.

Then Sara looks right at me, catching me off guard. I am instantaneously transformed into this sweating, heart-pounding freak. I am no longer Tobey Beller. It’s bizarre that I’m still able to speak in this condition.

“So,” I say, "do you play an instrument?”

“I played the violin up until last year.”

“You don’t play anymore?”

“Not really. I haven’t had as much free time this year.”

It almost doesn’t bother me that her lack of free time has to do with the asshole.

“Me neither,” I say. "The world tour, recording my new album . . . gotta keep the fans happy.”

She laughs.

Yes
.

While we’re doing the assignment, Sara seems impressed with my analysis of syncopation. And I caught that the sixteenth notes she was describing were actually thirty-second notes. So I’m feeling good that she sees I have a brain in working condition.

We finish before all the other pairs. I panic for a second, trying to think of something else funny to say. But Sara speaks first. “So, where are you applying?”

“Applying to what?”

“Ha-ha.Very funny.”

"Do...you mean college?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Oh.” Now comes the part where I sabotage everything by telling her I’m still figuring out what to do about college. After which she politely excuses herself to run up to Mr. Hornby and demand that we switch partners back.

"Um . . . I’m still narrowing down my list. What about you?”

“Well, my first choice is NYU.”

“You already know where you want to go?”

“Only since eighth grade.”

“That’s amazing.” And intimidating.

“Not really. It’s just a goal I’ve had for so long. . . .”

“Do you know what you want to major in?”

“I’m going to be an urban planner... mainly focusing on architecture and interior design. I’m into aesthetics.”

I can’t believe I’ve wasted all this time with brain-dead chickenheads.

“What about you?” she says.

"Oh. I’m...not completely sure yet. No, I mean, I know my career will be music-related. I’ve played guitar since I was five and I’m in this band with—”

“I know.”

“Oh. Yeah, so, I feel like we’re on the verge of a breakthrough or something, something huge, and that’s probably taking off.... And I might do recording sessions for sound-tracks . . . that kind of thing. . . . So I’m thinking of applying to music school.... Actually, Mr. Hornby wants me to apply where he went.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

What exactly did she mean by “huh”? Huh like,
That’s really cool you are so beyond my realm of righteousness?
Or huh like,
Could you be any more of a slacker, how could you not have even applied yet?

Sara looks over at Laila. Laila looks like she’s about to attack Robert with the music stand.

“So,” I say.

“So,” she says.

“You know how to play Dots?”

“What’s that?”

“You’ve never played Dots before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Dude.” I open my spiral to a new page.“Allow me.This is an essential skill to have. Your life won’t be complete without the constant possibility of a burning Dots session on the horizon.”

I expected that to get a laugh. But when I look at Sara, she’s looking at me kind of weird.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says.

I start filling up the page with dots. "Okay, so when you do this, it’s really important that both the rows and columns are even. So, like, you use the lines for the rows and make the dots this far apart—”