Free Cheater by Michael Laser Page A

his garage, Karl has obsessed over the question, What to do about Cara? Obvious Answer Number One: call her and invite her to go someplace with him. But wouldn’t she disdain any destination he could think of? Finally, he called his cousin Michelle at NYU for advice, and she, who lived in town for most of her life, suggested Café EnJay, which has live music and Italian desserts—but when he got up the nerve to call Cara, he couldn’t find her last name in the phone book. He could have asked Blaine for her number, but there was that lingering confusion about whether they used to be a couple and maybe still were, sort of. He could have talked to Cara in school, but somehow that seemed like a step in the wrong direction—after those kisses, to stand by the lockers and fumblingly ask her for a date. It just felt backward.
    Having exhausted every excuse known to man, in other words, he finds himself a mere six feet away from her, watching her sway slinkily and throw darts. He knew this moment would come when Blaine invited him, and he welcomed the opportunity—in the abstract. In the flesh, things are trickier.
    “Hey, stranger. How’s your dart game?”
    “Don’t know. I never tried.”
    “Then you might turn out to be the best player in the world. Let’s find out.”
    His first dart hits the outermost wire and falls off the board.
    “The secret,” she says, “is to throw it with the pointy end in front.”
    All of Cara’s darts stick in the board, which is more than Karl can say about his. What was that she said in his garage? Act on your true desires. It’s hard to know exactly what his true desires are, under this pressure. Maybe he should put his arm around her. No, he can’t, not in front of everyone. He may lose his chance by doing nothing, though. The window of opportunity is coming down fast, and he’s got his fingers on the sill.
    The Confederacy rescues him from his worries with much-needed distraction. Blaine brings around a wicker tray full of goodies, including potato chips that break oh-so-delicately between Karl’s teeth, cookies still warm from the microwave, and chocolate mint squares with the manufacturer’s logo engraved on the top of each individually wrapped brick. “Someday,” says Vijay, chewing, “students will cheat with bionic chips implanted in their eyes.”
    “I predict it’ll happen by 2020,” Tim says. “Get it? 2020?”
    Vijay and Noah give him the look that groans, Laaaaaaaame.
    “Anyone see Mark Madson’s tattoo?” Ian asks.
    No one has.
    “It’s so idiotic: a little dragon on his shoulder. I can’t believe my former best friend thinks a dragon tattoo is cool.”
    “Zack Barone used to be my best friend,” Blaine says, “and now he has so many piercings, he looks like an acupuncture chart.”
    “Your taste has obviously improved,” Vijay comments.
    Cara surprises Karl by joining in. “I found out my friend Sheryl, at my old school, was telling my secrets to everyone. Know how I caught her?”
    “How?” Karl asks, tossing a dart that sticks in the wall paneling.
    “I told her I had a rare medical condition that was making my breasts swell up. The next day, half the school was staring at my chest . ”
    “That proves nothing,” Ian says.
    “So, I guess she’s not your friend anymore,” Karl says.
    “I don’t believe in friends anymore.”
    There isn’t time to question this startling statement, because Tim quickly seconds it: “A best friend is just a disappointment waiting to happen.”
    In the sudden stillness, Ian flings a potato chip at Tim’s face, Frisbee-style, and says, “Bite fast.”
    Tim does, though not fast enough.
    “One thing’s guaranteed,” Vijay says. “When you think you can count on someone, that’s when they let you down.”
    “Or they just don’t get it,” Noah grumbles.
    Karl’s head feels like it’s under murky water. Here they are, bad-mouthing the whole idea of friends—but aren’t they all