9781250209153

has tethered me to Irene and I’ll spend the whole day linked to her no
matter what I do.
Predictably, my day is smattered with interruptions from gossipmongers
who want to know about the accident. I’m amazed at how many people
suddenly know my name—not just the other seniors, but the juniors and
underclassmen, too. Some of them are sincere when they ask if I’m okay,
but most of them bring it up because they want to hear about Irene.
“Do you guys, like, hang out now?” a wide-eyed girl asks.
“Was she pissed at you for ruining her car?” another whispers.
“Does it feel like carpooling with a Kardashian?” a straight-faced
freshman asks.
“No,” I hear myself saying over and over again. “I literally couldn’t care
less.”
I don’t actually see Irene until the end of the day, when we have our
only class together: Senior Horizons. It’s a joke of a class with an albatross
of a teacher. Mrs. Scuttlebaum is a grumpy, bitter old woman who wears the
same tulip-patterned cardigan over every outfit. Her smoker’s emphysema
makes sitting in her lectures that much worse.
When Danielle and I walk into the classroom, a bunch of the guys, led
by Gino, start laughing.
“Hey, Abraham, your Uber’s here!”
“Can you drive me to the dance this weekend, Zajac?”
“Five stars, Zajac, five stars!”
I can feel my face burning, but I roll my eyes with a bravado I don’t
feel. Irene, however, crosses her legs and says, “I’d only give her three
stars.”
The classroom howls with laughter. Irene catches my eye and smirks,
almost like we’re sharing the joke.
There’s a beat where it’s silent, and then I say, “I’d give her zero.”
The classroom erupts in laughter again. Irene tilts her head at me. She
doesn’t look angry, but I can’t quite read her expression. I ignore her and