Free My Senior Year of Awesome by Jennifer DiGiovanni Page B

waffles?”
    “I’ll help Sadie check out and walk her to our house.” Andy steps away from his family. “In case she doesn’t remember where we live.”
    “Of course I remember,” I say. As if I could ever forget. His house is only a few blocks from downtown Harmony, across the invisible line separating those of us with tiny living spaces from those with huge Victorian-style estates situated on acres of wooded property. Kosolowski Manor is practically a landmark. Actually, I think it was recently designated a historical structure. I bet George Washington slept in Andy’s bedroom or something like that.
    “So, do you always go food shopping together?” I ask, as he lopes along beside me on the way to the dairy aisle. My question must startle him out of some ultra-intelligent daydream because he takes a minute to answer.
    “Oh, um, not really. Mom wanted to stop at the market since it’s on our way home from church.”
    “Wow. I can see who wears the pants in your family.”
    Andy grins. “She’s the boss.”
    Apparently fearing I may bail on breakfast, he stands guard while I buy time carefully selecting a gallon of milk. I reach all the way in the back of the dairy case for the one with the furthest expiration date, allowing cool air to brush over my warm cheeks.
    By this point, I’m having difficulty remembering why I even left my apartment.
    I heft a gallon from the back row, trying not to bend forward too much when I feel my sweatshirt riding up my back. As soon as I drop the milk into my plastic basket, Andy reaches out to take it from me.
    “I’ve got it,” I protest, swaying back and forth while we play tug-of-war.
    “It’s no problem.” He stands firm until I release my grip on the handle. Maneuvering the basket higher on his arm, he heads toward the checkout counter. Halfway down the aisle, he reaches his free hand around to tuck in his shirt, revealing his ribbed corduroys stretched tightly over his posterior. My eyes immediately fuse on his retreating form. It strikes me how conditioned I am to seeing Andy in grungy sweats at school. Is that why I never bother to really look at him this way?
    After a couple deep, steadying breaths, I emerge from a disoriented haze and remind myself Andy is still Andy, no matter if he’s dressed in sweats or nice pants. Before I’m led further astray by his argyle socks, I chase him to the checkout, cutting him off so he doesn’t pay for my groceries.

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    Traffic sails by as Andy and I stroll through town. I take two steps for every one of his long strides, but at least he keeps the pace slow. As we walk, I tell him about the Little Shop of Horrors audition, and how I ended up taking on the role of a carnivorous plant.
    Keep the conversation light and friendly , I remind myself over and over. Just so I can surreptitiously observe Andy’s eye-crinkling and make sure that it’s not as cute as I imagined. Plus, Andy’s evil, axe-murderer/Muppet laugh should cure my current bout of irrationality. Seriously, the words cute and Andy cannot possibly belong in the same sentence.
    But hunger-induced lightheadedness must cloud my senses. When Andy laughs at my description of Audrey II, his “heh-heh” sets off a flash of joy inside of me. Andy’s laughter has somehow morphed into a positive attribute. And combined with his blue eyes, sparkling like sea glass behind his heavy frames, he looks, I don’t know, on the verge of appealing?
    “So is your interest in drama the reason you haven’t been at mathletes?” he interrupts my no-holds-barred attempt at small talk.
    “Not at all. Play practices are at night. After school, Jana and I are running track. Wait, you noticed we were missing?”
    “Did you think you could skip mathletes without anyone noticing?” He fakes a look of amazement.
    I smile. “It’s not like Jana and I are an integral part of the team. We just like to talk to Mrs. McCaffrey about girl stuff.”
    “You also