Free Confectionately Yours #3: Sugar and Spice by Lisa Papademetriou Page B

seam. She doesn’t need to speak.
    I turn and walk back to my table. Artie is right behind me.
    “Oh.” Meghan’s eyebrows are raised in surprise as Artie places her tray on our table. “Hi.”
    Artie doesn’t reply. She looks down at her food. Her face is hidden by a curtain of auburn hair, but I see a teardrop spill into her salad.
    Meghan pulls a crumpled tissue out of her bag.
    Artie looks at it, then takes it. “Thank you,” she whispers.
    I pick up the cupcake from my tray and place it on Artie’s.
    My Ex-Best blows her nose and then takes a bite of the cupcake. “This is really good,” she says after a moment. Her voice is quiet and she doesn’t look up when she says it. That’s okay.
    She doesn’t have to say anything else.
    I know she means more than the cupcake.
    ∗ ∗ ∗
    The final bell rang ten minutes ago, and I’m walking down the hall toward the costume shop when I hear piano notes floating from one of the practice rooms. They’reso beautiful, I feel like I can catch them in midair, like butterflies.
    I’m pretty sure I know who’s playing, but I peek as I walk by, anyway. I pause in the doorway.
    It’s Kyle.
    His fingers are long and slim, and almost as pale as the ivory keys they dance across. I tuck my hair behind my ear and hitch my book bag higher onto my shoulder, wishing I knew what to say to him. I want to apologize. I also want him to understand that he shouldn’t be embarrassed — it’s not his fault that Jamil and Omar are jerks.
    But I also kind of want to just walk away.
    “I hope you’re enjoying this, whoever you are,” Kyle announces. He doesn’t turn his head toward the door frame, and I wonder how he knows I’m here. Maybe I’m blocking some of the light.
    This is my last chance to escape unnoticed. I don’t take it.
    “It’s Hayley,” I tell him.
    His fingers pause for just a moment, then he plays on. “Hi,” he says. The keys at the top of the keyboard tinkle.
    “What are you playing?” I ask, mostly because I can’t think of anything else to say.
    Kyle shrugs. “Just something I made up. Well, I’m still working on it.” He plays a few more notes, then pushes himself away from the keys.
    “You’re making it up?”
    “I was thinking of playing it at the talent show.”
    “You know that might not be a real thing, right? I mean, Meghan hasn’t told anyone in the administration that it’s happening. She hasn’t even reserved the auditorium.”
    Kyle’s smile is lopsided. “She’ll work it out.”
    “You’re probably right.”
    “She has freaky powers,” Kyle says. “People do what she asks.”
    I laugh a little, but it comes out like a snort. “Tell me about it.”
    Kyle scoots over on the piano bench, and I come and sit down beside him. His fingers stray over the keys a little as he plays a simple melody from the song he was creating a moment before.
    “That’s really beautiful,” I tell him.
    “Thanks,” Kyle says. His fingers drop from the keys.
    Neither one of us speaks.
    His arm shifts, and it presses against mine for a moment. I don’t move mine away, and he doesn’t move his, either.
    My whole head starts to tingle. I can hear myself breathe.
    Kyle turns toward me. “I’m sorry,” he says.
    “Why?” The word is a whisper. I don’t mean it to be, but I can’t quite catch my breath.
    “I didn’t mean to be so — I don’t know. That whole Jamil and Omar thing … That wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean to get mad at you.”
    “I know,” I say, even though I didn’t know, not until he said so.
    “Those guys aren’t so bad….”
    “They’ve just gone crazy lately,” I agree.
    “Yeah.” Kyle sighs, and I feel his breath against my arm. His eyes are the gray of a deep ocean beneath a stormy sky. “I wish —” he says, then breaks off.
    “What?”
    He smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “I just wish I could see your face right now, Hayley,” Kyle says.
    His arm is still warm against mine. I forget to