Free 16 Things I Thought Were True by Janet Gurtler Page B

tweets. I grab my backpack and walk out from behind the counter.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Adam says. “You can bring your phone.”
    â€œI know.” I need to recalibrate. I can’t be mad at him for ignoring my call since he didn’t have his phone.
    â€œCome on.” He glances at my backpack. “You need to stop to buy something to eat?”
    I shake my head. I took one of Josh’s protein bars so I could have lunch in private. I hadn’t planned on returning to the staff room again. Ever. I want to slip off to the path that leads to privacy, but I’m too chicken to admit it.
    When we walk outside, two pretty girls in yellow shirts run up to Adam. One smiles at me, but the other looks me up and down and blinks in slow motion before turning to Adam. “So, I need to get off early this Saturday. Can I do that?”
    â€œTalk to me later,” he says to her and turns to me. We’ve reached the entrance to the staff room. It smells like dirty feet and cotton candy. It reminds me of my brothers when they don’t shower after working out and try to cover their smell with cologne.
    â€œCome on,” Adam says, and we step inside. It’s early for lunch, so there are only a few employees sprawled at one table. I avoid looking at the managers’ table, closest to the far wall.
    Some girls at the full table squeal with laughter, but Adam ignores them. “We don’t have to sit over there,” he says, gesturing to the manager table. “How about the couches?”
    I shrug, kind of embarrassed he guessed my feelings about sitting at the manager table, and follow him to the grimy-looking couches that semicircle the vending machines. He walks to a machine and plugs in some quarters. “You want a Coke?” he asks me as he takes out a can.
    I lift my shoulder and plunk down on a couch, trying not to think about how dirty it is. I put my phone on my lap.
    â€œSure, Adam, I’d love a Coke,” he says in a high-pitched voice, imitating me. He puts in more change and pulls out another can. I turn on my phone to Twitter and scroll, but he stands right in front of me, holding out the can until I stop and take it from him.
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œHow about talking to me instead of your phone?”
    I put my phone down but glance longingly at it.
    â€œSo everything’s okay with your mom?” he says and sits on the couch across from me. I dig through my backpack and pull out my bar, nod, and rip the wrapper open with my teeth.
    â€œYou sure you’re okay?”
    â€œI’m fine.” I take a bite of my bar and pop open the can. Adam watches me as he unfolds his lunch bag.
    â€œDid I do something to piss you off?”
    â€œBesides forcing me to eat in this place?” I smile even though it’s true and take a sip of the soda. It’s awkward. I’m angry about things, most of which have nothing to do with him. I’m being kind of an ass and I know it.
    He pulls a sandwich from his lunch bag and glances around the room, seemingly undisturbed by the other people or the mess. “Where do you usually eat?” he asks. “Outside?”
    I shake my head, trying to shake off my mood.
    He holds up his sandwich to take a bite. “Isn’t anyone allowed to be nice to you?”
    I put the soda between us on the table and lean back on the couch, sigh, try to explain. “Sorry. It’s just. Since the video…”
    He smiles. “I get it. And by the way, in case you didn’t notice, I’m not exactly Mr. Popularity around here.” He bites his sandwich and shrugs. “At least you’ll be seen talking to me in public.” He smiles again to show he’s joking, but I wonder if he is.
    The confession warms me a little. “I have to figure out things with my mom and my…birth father. And I usually use my break to get caught up with my friends, so I guess I’m a little