BROKEN

Part 5 of 5

27

Last period is Spanish. I’ve been dreading it, but taking a language is a requirement for graduation. If I’m going to come to school, might as well act like there’s a chance I’ll live long enough to finish. Too bad, because I suck at languages—I tried teaching myself, everything from French to Russian, but the same tin ear I bring to all things musical, I bring to languages.

As I weave my way through the crowd in the hall, I spot Celina. She’s got her hoodie up, head turtled between hunched shoulders, face down as she skirts along the wall. I wave to her then quickly drop my hand as two girls stare at me. No way will she hear me if I call her name—and that’s got to be just as uncool as waving—so I try to hurry after her, but she vanishes.

I end up in the wrong hallway and have to backtrack to make it to Spanish. I sneak in just after the second bell only to find that I needn’t have worried about being late. The teacher isn’t even there. Any students actually interested in Spanish are wearing earphones and droning phrases that sound like they were invented by Dr. Seuss. There are maybe five of them.

Everyone else is talking, goofing off, or doing homework.

Cool. This I can handle, especially at the end of the day.

Turns out Tony is in the class. Earlier, I sat behind him in biology—no sign of Mitch, yeah!—but haven’t had a chance to talk to him since our movie geek-out in English.

He smiles and gestures for me to take the seat beside him. Stretching out his long legs—they take up two desk spaces and his feet are big enough to need their own zip code—he brushes his foot against mine. I’m not sure what to do but I’m smart enough to know I should play it cool, despite the way my heart lurches. I fumble in my pack for my Spanish book and try to ignore how close he is.

“That was fun. Talking movies. In English,” I say, hoping I’m not making too big a deal out of it. Other than my dad, I never get to talk to anyone about movies—certainly not the way Tony and I had earlier.

“Uh-huh.” He’s still staring at me but saying nothing. Is it always this much work, getting a guy to talk?

“You know a lot about movies.”

He shrugs. “You’re not really interested in Spanish?” he finally asks. “Mr. Greenfield is the wrestling coach and he’s too busy to be bothered, so everyone gets a B anyway.”

“I’m not interested in Spanish,” I confess, wondering why he cares.

“Good. Then let’s work on our biology project.”

For a moment, I wonder if he’s only interested in me for my genetic pedigree. But there was a real spark between us in English. I hadn’t imagined that—had I?

“I thought you were getting a new partner,” I say.

“Nope.” He reaches down to grab his notebook. I edge away, uncertain. He pulls out a sheaf of research notes on Long QT.

I’m still uneasy. “But—”

“You think I’m just looking for the easy grade?” He fills in the blanks. I nod. “Let’s see, the chance to work with a cute girl who loves the same movies I do and is smart and stands up for herself and her friends…oh yeah, she also probably knows more about genetics than Ms. Blakely does. So hmmm…a chance to get a good grade plus the girl?” He taps his pencil against the side of his head as if thinking hard. “Gee, what do you think I

should do?”

His face twists into a parody of confusion. I can’t help but smile. But I want to be certain. These feelings…the way he makes me feel is totally different than the way Jordan does and I have no idea if any of them are real or not. Can I trust them? They’re too new, too fragile for me to risk it. “You don’t even know me.”