“Well, where does your class trip go?” Cassidy wanted to know.
We all looked at her blankly.
“You don’t have those?” Cassidy asked, disbelieving. “Seniors don’t go to Spain or somewhere to traipse through museums and churches for a week?”
I started laughing. “We go to Six Flags.”
“Good thing it’s not Disneyland,” Charlotte said sweetly, with a glance in Toby’s direction.
At this, Evan burst out laughing.
“Babe,” he spluttered, trying to get it under control, “you’re pure evil.”
“Whatever, you love it,” Charlotte retorted, touching her index finger to the tip of his nose. It was so adorable that I almost threw up all over my adorable pile of fries.
“So, has everyone studied for Mr. Anthony’s quiz?” I asked, hurriedly changing the subject without thinking.
“What quiz?” Jimmy asked nervously.
“AP Euro,” Cassidy said.
“Dude, none of us are in AP.” Evan chuckled, cramming a fistful of fries into his mouth.
“It’s senior year,” said Jimmy. “I’ve only got five classes, counting tennis.”
“Counting tennis, that takes balls,” Toby muttered.
Cassidy snorted, and I tried not to.
Evan reached over and snagged a handful of fries off Charlotte’s plate. She fake-pouted and slapped at his hand as he crammed them into his mouth, laughing.
“I’m hungry,” Evan said by way of apology. “Rocked it hard at practice this afternoon.”
“Hell yeah!” Jimmy affirmed. They bumped greasy fists over the napkin dispenser. Toby winced.
“So Ezra,” Charlotte said, “how come you’re not sitting with us at lunch anymore?”
All eyes were on me. I shrugged and took a pull of my drink, stalling. The family with the screaming kid left their trays and trash at the table as they got up.
“It’s, well . . .” I trailed off, unsure of how to answer.
Did she honestly want me to say it out loud? That it felt wrong for me to go back, like they only wanted me around out of some sense of residual pity? That they’d been lousy friends when I was in the hospital? That she’d cheated on me the night of the accident, and that, just a little bit, I blamed her for what had happened? That, if it came to it, I’d rather eat lunch on a cot in the nurse’s office than bear daily witness to Charlotte sitting on Evan’s lap?
Thankfully, Toby came to my rescue.
“Faulkner’s on the debate team now.”
They all burst out laughing, as though Toby had claimed I’d joined forces with the kids who brought their laptops and headsets to school to play World of Warcraft during lunch.
“Dude, for real?” Evan asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Why not?”
“Can we talk?” Charlotte batted her eyelashes, her smile curving dangerously.
Unasked, Cassidy and Toby got up so I could extract myself from the booth. In thick, awkward silence, I followed Charlotte over to the condiment bar.
We hadn’t talked. Not since Jonas Beidecker’s pre-prom party, when she’d run after me insisting I better not back out of prom. And there was so much to say, and to avoid saying, that I didn’t know where to begin. But Charlotte clearly did.
“What is up with you?” she demanded. “You’re hanging out with Toby Ellicott and joining the debate team?”
Charlotte was still in her song squad skirt, ribbons tied around her ponytail, a little blue paw print painted on her cheek. But her expression was far from cheerful.
“Well?” she asked, waiting for an explanation.
But the thing was, by my reckoning, I didn’t owe her one. Not for something as trivial as whom I chose to eat lunch with.
“So you and Evan,” I countered. “Awesome. You’ll have my vote for Homecoming Court.”
“Oh, please,” Charlotte protested, a little too vehemently. “That’s not why we’re together.”
“Of course not.” I held back a smile, noting how my comment had infuriated her.
“This is ridiculous,” Charlotte said. “You should come back to our lunch table. It’s not your place to sit with those losers. Bring your snotty prep-school girlfriend, even. I don’t care.”
“They’re not losers. And Cassidy and I are just friends.”
“Yeah.” Charlotte laughed. “Because so many girls see you and think, ‘Now that’s a guy I’d like to be just friends with.’”
“What are you talking about?”
I was fairly certain that most girls saw me and thought, That’s the kid who almost died at Jonas’s party. Used to be a star athlete, but he’s, like, crippled now. Isn’t it so sad?
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for Charlotte to voice the truth of what everyone wasn’t saying. Instead, she sighed and swished her skirt as though I exasperated her. It was a move I recognized from the halcyon days of junior year, when we’d just started dating.
“Ohmigod, Ezra! Get a clue. You’re all brooding and depressed now, and don’t even ask me why, but dark, deep, and twisty totally works for you. You could have anyone you want, so ditch the social outcasts and stop sulking over your sprained knee.”
My sprained knee—right. I didn’t even know what to say to that, so I did what I always did around Charlotte—around all of my old friends, really. I shrugged and said nothing.
“Listen,” she said, stepping closer and pouting cutely. “I’m having a party next Friday. You’re coming, right?”