Progressive or not, she got rich off of boob pics. I’d rather follow girls who were advancing in life solely thanks to their brains.
Mac grinned. “Aww, amorcita, are you jealous? Why would I need to see faceless pics of half-naked girls when I’m friends with the most beautiful girl who refuses to let me get her half-naked? Hold on, it’s like the perfect combination.”
“Har, har.”
My Doc dinged. Mac groaned. Since our class schedules never overlapped, every five minutes we could get together was sacred.
[ ] T minus seven, six…
He loudly cleared his throat. I held out my Doc.
“I plead extenuating circumstances. I think someone’s messing with me.”
Scrolling through the creeper messages, he frowned. “What happens when it gets to zero?”
“Does something have to happen?”
“Why else have a countdown?” Noticing my insta–panic expression, he set down his comb—only half his head gelled back—and adjusted my bow tie. “Tranquila. It’s probably spam. Sharma can fix it. Or maybe it’s only clocking the seconds till you jump from the high dive into a barrel of water.”
“Still with the clown jokes.” I rolled my eyes, hopped down off the garbage can. “You’re the funniest one, Rodriguez. Come on, time to go learn stuff.”
“Be right there.”
Completely unconcerned that the bell was about to ring, Mac hummed as he tweaked his curls, a residual smile gracing his lips. Mac was the primest cut of meat at Prep and he was rumored to be better at crunching numbers than all our math teachers combined. Don’t think he wasn’t entirely aware of both these facts. I’d almost made it to the door when he called out.
“I heart you, Ronald.”
Here we were again. Audra would have played it coy and said I know. Fawn would have told him the truth, that she hearted him too—like, a lot—because her philosophy was to spread love every chance she got. And Sharma…actually, I have no idea what she’d have said. She wouldn’t have been in that bathroom to begin with. Boys were so beneath her.
So what did young, confused Kyle Cheng say to the boy she adored more than anything yet refused to date? Why, she played it off like it was a joke, pretending to hear only the least meaningful word in his sentence.
“Ronald? As in McDonald? Ugh. Let it go, Rodriguez.”
In the mirror Mac’s easy grin faltered.
“Skip out of calc to see me in lunch?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said, resurrecting his smile. “Always.”
[ ] T minus five, four…
Mad dash to English. I slid into my seat next to Audra, late for the second time that day. Luckily, Mr. E. was tardy, too. As usual, our chairs were arranged in a circle so we’d be forced to talk to one another about the literature we were reading.
“Sharmie duck out for an emergency zombie strat session?” I asked, noting her empty seat. “Twenty bucks plus her crack code that downloads Teenzine on your school tablet says that Mr. E.’s skiing in Vail and we have a sub.”
Audra’s red heels were kicked off beneath her desk. She’d barely glanced up as I sat down, and I couldn’t tell if it was because she was miffed that I’d been gone longer than promised or because she was just that absorbed in who-knew-what on her Doc. As had been the case more and more frequently these past few months, she had it set to privacy mode. Since the screen only decoded for her retinas, all I saw was black.
“Deal,” she said, still without looking up. “Now credit my account and zip that crack over because Brittany Mulligan posted that she saw Mr. E. go into Dr. Graff’s office before first bell. My guess is meeting ran long?”
“Damn.”
“How’s your friend without benefits doing this morning, Ms. I Didn’t Have Time to Pee?”
“Hmm?” I grabbed a Sani-Wipe and swabbed down my school tablet. “I was in the restroom.”
Audra cleared her throat, then read from her Doc in a slightly falsetto voice.
“‘Kyle Cheng just kicked me out of the boys’ bathroom. Awesome.’ That was Josh Tolbern’s status six minutes ago. You could have just said you were going to meet Mac. Though I still say not screwing around with Mackenzie Rodriguez is like not speeding in a Porsche. You didn’t have to lie. Or hide, for that matter. Or are you just into vertical urination now?”
Sharma had set up our Docs so we were pinged anytime our name was mentioned anywhere. Only Audra’s system was set to receive all our pings. I hated when she actually checked them.
As I hid my Doc in my lap, my cheeks burned. Audra prided herself on saying exactly what she thought, exactly the way she thought it. “Boys do it all the time,” she’d say. “Why do girls get shackled with having to be nice?” It used to be one of my favorite things about her. But these types of Porsche comments were exactly why I hadn’t told her I’d gone to meet Mac. They were why Mac and I were meeting in a bathroom to begin with. He used to wait for me at the end of the Walk by Coffee Check. Until Audra’s judge-y looks and in turn catty, then fawning, Mac-focused snipes forced us into hiding.
“Whoa, there, cowgirl,” she said, finally glancing at me. “No need for the between-the-eyebrows crease. I was teasing.”
Sometimes it was hard to tell. When I didn’t respond, she switched to a nicer Audra tone. “Must not have gone so well today, huh?”
“No,” I said, letting down my guard. “It always goes well. That’s kind of the problem.”
Going back to her Doc, Audra sang under her breath, “Only you would think that’s a problem.”
Before I could reply, a familiar voice said, “Mr. E., rewriting essay equals waste.”
In one synchronized movement the entire class looked up from their laps and smirked as Sharma followed Mr. E. into the room. Their constant butting heads about Sharma’s lack of proper usage regarding, well, anything in the English language was a running joke in class. I wished I had something that tied me to Mr. E. like that. Leave it to Sharma to track down our missing profess. Guess it wasn’t an undead-related emergency.
“It’s a waste of what, Ms. Clarke? Complete your sentence. Is it a waste of time? Energy? File space?”
“Tap all three,” Sharma said.
“Don’t let someone else fill in your blanks.”
Whether it was that Sharma was on his heels or that he was late from his meeting with Dr. Graff, I had to say, teach looked flustered. He didn’t take his normal perch on the corner of his desk. Instead he stood behind it and knuckled his chin as his eyes cast around the classroom, barely seeing it. Glamour Stubble—that was Mac’s nickname for Mr. E.
The man could get mani-pedis for all I cared. Hot was hot.