The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [12]
“Yup. We’ll have to get here early, claim one right away.”
He winks, like we’re on a mission now. “Good call.”
The lunchroom is packed. There’s a crowd around the table with pastries and bread on it—this means they’ve brought out a fresh batch of bagels that are still warm. I even see a teacher or two pushing to get to the bagel basket.
Brent Fisher is walking toward us. He’s a senior, but he knows Jeremy pretty well.
“Hey, Cole, can I talk to you a second?” He crouches by Jeremy’s chair.
“What’s up, Fisher?”
How do boys know how to use last names like that? Makes them sound so cool.
“Well, it’s about Marcy McDonald.”
Marcy is a junior at another school, but everyone knows who she is. She’s beautiful, and Jeremy dated her for most of sophomore year, but at the start of this year he was single. I don’t think anyone knows why they broke up: the gossip mill is never as strong in the summertime; people go away—on vacation, to country houses, to fancy college-preparatory summer schools.
“I know you guys were pretty tight last year,” Brent begins, and Jeremy shrugs. “But she and I were hanging out last weekend, and I … Well, dude, I’d really like to ask her out. But I know things ended badly between you guys—”
Hmm, I think. Really?
“—and I don’t want to, you know …”
“Dude, don’t worry about it. Marcy’d be lucky to have you.”
“So we’re cool?”
“Completely.” Throughout this whole exchange, Brent hasn’t so much as looked my way. I wonder if it’s one of those unwritten laws on how to converse with royalty.
“Thanks, dude.” Brent looks genuinely relieved as he turns to walk away, which makes me think that things have already moved forward with him and Marcy and he’d been scared it would get back to Jeremy before he got the okay. Huh, I think, Fornication Under Consent of the King. Just like in feudal times.
Jeremy turns back to me. “Marcy, man. Good luck with that chick.”
“That must have been a bad breakup,” I try, curious to know what happened, hoping he’ll elaborate.
“Whatever. I’m sure she has nice qualities. I used to think so, anyway.”
Maybe she cheated on him. But that’s unfathomable. Why would anyone cheat on Jeremy Cole? I decide to change the subject. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you—how’s Kate doing? She’s absent again today. She must not have been faking, huh? I mean, is she really sick? The flu’s been going around something awful.”
“Going around something awful?” Jeremy smiles wickedly. “You know, Sternin, sometimes you talk like a grandmother.” I blush. “Catch you later, Granny,” Jeremy says, and he gets up and heads to a different table—where he’s met enthusiastically, of course. I knew he didn’t mean it about starting a table of our own.
Now that the physics quiz is over and Jeremy’s vocab has improved, I wonder if maybe our—I don’t know what to call it: friendship? flirtation? exchange of skills?—is over. I pretty much assume it is. It never was anything; Jeremy is just that guy who can hang out with anyone, so he just chose me for a few days there. That’s all.
I am very nearly floored when the phone at home rings later and it’s him. First of all, the call comes late, after eleven, and I don’t really have any friends who would call that late on a school night. That’s the kind of thing only your very best friend would do without worrying about getting you into trouble with your parents. I’m not particularly social once I get home at night; I’m Rapunzel, locked up in my tower to study, with no late-night callers.
I’m groggy as I say, “Hello?”
“Sternin, hey, what’s up?”
“Not me.” I recognize Jeremy’s voice. It’s thrilling to hear his voice on my phone, even if he’s upset my bedtime routine.
“Huh?”
“I was half asleep, Jeremy.”
“Oh, dude, it’s not even midnight. Jeez, Connelly, let your hair down once in a while.”
Not quite the fairy-tale request, but he is a modern-day prince after all.
“Wanna hang out?” Jeremy continues.
“Now?”
“Sure.”
“It’s eleven-thirty on a Wednesday night. I’m in my pajamas.”
“So? I’ll grab a taxi. Just stand outside with me while I have a