right?”
“You kind of set the precedent when we met, didn’t you?”
“Bailey, attack!”
I give his leash a sharp tug. He only stares at us happily.
Jake laughs. “So cute.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know about you, but I’m walking now.”
“Wow, that’s practically an invitation coming from you.”
So we walk.
“Got any more ideas for our project?” he asks.
“I’m supposed to be thinking of ideas?” I ask back. “I wonder if Norton knows how dumb this assignment is. Do you think he does? Think he’s just fucking with us?”
“I don’t know, maybe. So why did you run away from home?”
“Okay, Jake?” I stop; he stops. “I’m going to tell you something and I want you to listen carefully and then every time you want to ask me a personal question, you can just refer back to this answer. Are you ready?”
He nods and his hair falls into his eyes. He brushes it away.
“I’m really fucked up,” I tell him. “And I don’t like people.”
“Got it,” he says. “But why?”
“It doesn’t matter why. I don’t give the people I know valuable insight into my psyche. You’re the new kid. You have no chance.”
“I’m going try to have a conversation with you anyway. Are you ready?”
I think if I roll my eyes any more this year, they might get stuck in my head, so I refrain. But not rolling my eyes leaves me with an anxious feeling, so I hand Jake Bailey’s leash and start snapping my fingers.
“So, Parker,” he begins. “How are you?”
“Oh my God.” I give in to the eye roll. “I’m fine, Jake. How are you?”
“I’m good. Getting used to St. Peter’s and stuff.”
“Why bother? You’ll just be leaving soon anyway.”
“I believe in making the most of my time,” he says. We head farther down the street. “It hasn’t been easy. I used to go to a public school and now I’m stuck in your stupid uniforms. And the praying drives me crazy.”
“You and everyone else.” I stop snapping my fingers and cross my arms. It’s chilly out. “Do you know how much harder it is to become popular when you have to wear a uniform? You can’t rely on being fashionable to help you climb the social ladder. Becky and Jessie and I had a hell of a time working our way up in those uniforms.”
“Tragedy,” Jake says.
“Definitely,” I agree. “Were you popular at your old school?”
“Would you like me less depending on my answer?”
“Jake, I don’t think I could like you any less,” I assure him. “Besides, I know you were. Popular people give off pheromones only other popular people can pick up on. Chris really took a liking to you, so I put two and two together.”
“My best friend was the most popular guy in my old school,” Jake admits. “His name was Adam Jenkins.”
I don’t say anything.
“I didn’t necessarily want it,” he adds, like that’ll make me think more of him. “Why did you want to be popular?”
“Who says I wanted to be popular?”
“Please. You just said you worked your way to the top. Why?”
“Why does it matter?”
“I’m curious.”
“You should really do something about that.” I take Bailey’s leash back. “I thought it would be easier.”
Jake nods like he understands, but popularity is always different for guys—way less maintenance involved. It really is easier for them. And besides, I’m totally lying anyway. I didn’t want to be popular because it was easier; I wanted to be popular because in high school that’s the best thing you can be: perfect. Everything else is shit.
We keep walking and I wish he’d leave. Being on this street feels wrong. All these people, the cars flying back and forth—it’s like a scene out of a movie and I belong to it with Jake and the dog. It probably looks perfect to someone watching from the outside, but it really freaks me out, so I keep glancing up and down the street, hoping for an opportunity to ditch him. And that’s when I spot this familiar face outside