Free Confectionately Yours #4: Something New by Lisa Papademetriou

“I was wondering if you might want to go together?”
    The dampness on the ends of my eyelashes thickens, and Kyle blurs in front of me. My throat is closing, and I feel like I’m going to choke.
    Kyle waits a moment, and then flashes an embarrassed smile. “You aren’t saying anything,” he says. “Are you — thinking it over?”
    “Kyle, I —” There is a lot that I wish I could say, but don’t really dare. “Marco asked me already.” My words are limp, but they’re the best I can do.
    “Oh. So you’re going with him.”
    “I’ve already said yes.”
    “Got it.” Kyle looks like he understands. Like maybe he understands the whole thing.
    Like maybe he understands it better than I do.
    And who knows? Maybe he does.

K yle dropped a five-dollar bill into Winthrop’s guitar case. It was folded in a square. I saw it.
    And I know Kyle did that on purpose. He isn’t one of the rich kids. Or he doesn’t seem to be. But how many kids in my school would have given five dollars to a street musician? How many would stop to talk to him?
    When I’m with Kyle, the world just seems bigger, somehow. More interesting. Brighter. It seems like an adventure, and anyone who is brave enough is welcome to step into it.
    It’s like he sees the best in people. I know he sees the best in me. When I’m around him, I just wish that I could be more like him.
    He’s so easy to talk to. You never have to make anything up.
    And here is the real confession:
    I wish I could say yes.
    Yes!
    Yes!

“A mazing job, Artie. As usual,” Meghan says as she stands back from the lime-and-yellow poster. It really pops against the bland beige wall.
    “Thanks!” Artie grins as she makes a minuscule adjustment to make it even straighter than it was before.
    “What was wrong with the old posters?” I ask.
    Meghan jumps a little and turns to face me. “Oh, hi, Hayley. I didn’t realize you were there. Studies show that people stop seeing the posters after a few days or so. It’s good to freshen them up. We’ll surprise everyone tomorrow morning.” The last bell rang ten minutes ago, and the halls are deserted. I’m only here this late because I have to talk to Señor Derby about the advanced class situation.
    “But we’re keeping everything in the same color palette,” Artie explained, waving the old yellow poster. “So that people recognize the brand.”
    “Great,” I say, as if I know what we’re talking about.
    “You should do your posters in green and yellow, too,” Artie suggests, “so that people realize that you two are together.”
    “Brilliant!” Meghan says, holding her hand up for a high five. Then Artie says, “Thank you” in a British accent, and Meghan says, “No, thank you” in the same accent, and they go on that way for a while, and all the time I’m just standing there, like, “Say whaa?” Because — since when do those two have an in-joke?
    “Okay,” I tell them. “I have to start over with my posters, anyway.” I explain about the dog pee incident.
    “Yeah, Meghan and I have been meaning to ask you why your posters weren’t up yet,” Artie says. “We were wondering.”
    “If you need help, just let us know,” Meghan says, and now I’m seriously feeling weird, because since when do Artie and Meghan get together to talk about me ?
    “Uh — I’ll try to get them up tomorrow,” I tell them, even though I’m a little annoyed that I’m not getting any sympathy for the dog situation.
    “Well, well, well,” Omar says as he rounds the corner. “I see you’ve finally managed to organize something, Meghan.”
    “I’ve been organizing stuff all year, Omar,” she snaps.
    Omar just purses his lips as he holds up his campaign poster and rips a piece of tape from a roll with his teeth. Then he slaps up the tape — not even straight along the edges, just all wonky and haphazard — and plasters the poster right next to Meghan’s. Omar’s poster isn’t as pretty as Meghan’s. At all.