Free M or F? by Lisa Papademetriou Page B

huffy.
    â€œAm I?” Marcus and I have this standing Saturday night movie date thingie, and I knew that was what he was huffing about. We get together to watch crazy Indian musicals (Marcus’s favorite) or Hong Kong kung fu (my usual choice) and pig out on Hawaiian-style ham-and-pineapple pizza. It’s our thang.
    Okay—truth: I wanted to go out with Jeffrey. Who wouldn’t? I mean, pizza and a movie with Marcus was fun, but I could do that anytime. Quality time with the hottie of my choice wasn’t usually on the menu. But I didn’t want to say that to Marcus.
    â€œI don’t know, are you?” Marcus repeated.
    Two could play at this game. “I don’t know,” I replied. “Am I?”
    <> scrolled across the screen.
    â€œClock’s ticking,” I said.
    â€œOh, for God’s sake,” Marcus snapped. “Tell him you’re free.”
    My fingers hovered over the keyboard. “But what about us?” I had to offer some kind of alternate hangage. “Do you want to have brunch tomorrow?”
    â€œOoooh, brunch,” Marcus said sarcastically. “I just love sloppy seconds. Besides, brunch is so eighties, and you know I’m into anything retro.”
    â€œOkay, I’m telling him that I can’t make it.” I started to type.
    â€œDon’t you dare!” Marcus shouted. “Frannie Falconer, you will go on that date, and you will wear something low-cut, and you will dish up all of the details while we watch Sholay tomorrow night. Type it in.”
    So that’s what I did.
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    A few things flashed through me at that moment—a thrill that it was a real “date,” as in the Scoops-crew-approved two-person date formula and everything . . . and a little, tiny, microscopic pang of jealousy that Jeffrey thought that Marcus was cool and funny. Does he think I’m cool and funny? I wondered.
    I hit the keyboard.
    <>
    â€œOkay,” I told Marcus. “It’s on.”
    â€œGood,” he replied. His voice was a weird combination of satisfied and hurt, and I really felt bad for ditching on our plans at the last minute. But wasn’t that what he had told me to do?
    Anyhoo, so Marcus and I firmed up our brunch plans, and then I hung up and started to get ready. And then I started to get nervous about the Jeffrey date. And then I started feeling like a jerk about the whole Marcus thing, like if I was a better friend, I would have insisted that we keep our plans. And then I started to think that maybe Lilac Breeze was making me look kind of yellow, and I was just about to tissue it off when Laura walked into my room.
    â€œPink or blue?” she asked. She was wearing low-riding black pants and a formfitting pink cashmere sweater and holding up a baby blue one that was exactly the same as the one she had on in every respect except for the color.
    I wanted to say, What difference does it make? But I’m a nice person, so I actually said, “I think the pink really goes well with your skin tone.”
    â€œReally?” Laura asked, giving me a huge smile. I don’t usually hand out compliments on her Banana Republic wardrobe, but I was in a good mood. “You’re pretty dressed up,” she said, eyeing my skirt. “What’s the deal? Cute guy at the video store?”
    â€œActually, I have a date.” I tried to sound nonchalant while still putting enough emphasis on the word date so that Laura would know it was important.
    â€œReally?” Laura squealed. “With who?”
    I fought the grin, but the grin won. “Jeffrey Osborne.”
    Laura waggled her eyebrows. “Ooh—I remember him.” Laura had been a senior at