Free Bad by Francine Pascal

“I’ve been wanting to come here for ages. You know, I have to admit, I even told Megan and Ashley that I already
had
eaten at this place.”
    Ed laughed, too. It figured. Heather and her friends kept a running tally of who had gone where and who had bought what. The FOHs were beyond snobs. They managed to make something like choosing a dentist into a status competition. But Ed didn’t care. He savored the moment. In a weird way, that was one of the things he loved about Heather: her shameless desire to be on top of the world. She was totally honest about herself. Besides, he hadn’t seen her
this
happy in ... well, in years.
    â€œSo what do you want to start with?” Ed asked, hoping she would have a better idea of how to order raw fish than he would. The fact of the matter was that he was in over his head. Sushi? Please. He could imagine how Gaia would react to this meal. She would
freak.
He smiled. If something had less than three hundred grams of fat and didn’t come in a paper bag, she wouldn’t even touch it—
    â€œWhat’s so funny?”
    Ed glanced up from the menu with a start. “Uh . . . n-nothing,” he stammered. “I was just thinking that I have no idea what I’m doing. You’re gonna have to order for me.”
    Heather burst out laughing.
    Whew.
That
was lucky. Nice comeback there, Fargo. Most of it was true, anyway. Ed really didn’t know what he was doing. In more ways than one. He glanced anxiously back at his menu. Why the hell was he thinking about Gaia? Tonight had nothing to with Gaia. He wasn’t here for her. He was here for him. And for Heather. His grip tightened on the leather-bound menu. No more Gaia. No way. As of now, this evening would be totally Gaia-free. Gaia had no place—
    â€œLet’s just ask the waiter to recommend something,” Heather suggested, putting down her menu. “If you want to know the truth, I don’t know what I’m doing, either.”
    Ed managed a grin. He dropped the menu on the table and took a swig of water.
    â€œSo . . . you never answered my question,” Heather murmured seductively, leaning across the table.
    â€œWhat question?”
    â€œWhat’s this about?”
    He drew in a deep breath. He was going to wait, to build up to it—but what the hell. He was never good at keeping secrets. “Well, I went to the doctor today,” he began.
    Heather groaned. “Oh, boy. I’m sorry, but can we not talk about doctors? Doctors make me think of medical bills, which make me think of the thousands of dollars my family owes to various institutions. And that makes me think . . .” She didn’t finish.
    Ed just stared at her.
That
sure wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. But now he saw the truth: Heather was so caught up in her own problems that she didn’t even see the connection between a celebratory dinner at an overpriced restaurant and the word
doctor.
Why
else
would Ed be celebrating? It sure as hell wasn’t because he’d been elected to the National Honor Society. How could she be so blind? So self-involved? If Ed was talking about doctors, then he was obviously talking about his—
    Wait a second.
    No. She didn’t see. Which meant something . . . something that suddenly made Ed feel almost as good as he’d felt in that doctor’s office. Heather didn’t automatically assume that
doctor
was to
Ed
as
cure
was to
paralysis.
And that meant she no longer saw the wheelchair. She only saw Ed. Well, she
did
see the wheelchair—but only in the same way she saw Ed’s ridiculous outfit: the dark suit and tie he’d been forced to put on in order to eat at this place. The point was, she mostly saw
him.
The guy. Not the condition. It was a breakthrough. A
huge
breakthrough.
    â€œ. . . walk around school the way I always did, but the fact is that I might be homeless next month.”
    Ed hadn’t even