“It’s less about the bodily fluid, and more about who the bodily fluid comes from.”
She cackled. “Touché.”
Emerson paused in his argument long enough to give us a withering glance. “You guys are really killing the mood.”
“Your lyrics killed the mood,” Sayid muttered. “You took it from a love song to a song about overthrowing the establishment.”
“Ooh, I think you just sold Emerson’s version to me,” Izzy said, stroking her chin like a supervillain. “I do love overthrowing establishments.”
Sayid held his hands up. “Seriously?”
“My vote’s with Emerson, too,” I said. “Sorry, man.”
Sayid scowled and went to pack up the keyboard. “You guys never side with me,” he said.
“They can’t help it if I’m a lyrical genius,” Emerson said.
“Oh yeah, we got a regular Lin-Manuel Miranda over here.”
I grabbed my phone just as a text came in from Juliette.
Hey, the game just finished. We’re heading to You Got Soft-Served over on Hamilton Street if you want to come grab a shake?
Wait, so I could go consume some sugar, see Will again, and support a local pun-appreciating business? It’s not like I could say no to that, now, was it?
Everyone was already there when I arrived. Five basketball guys formed a row of black-and-white varsity jackets, crowded around a booth against the wall. They all had damp hair from their post-game showers. Will’s hair was the longest out of all of them, and he kept sweeping it back off his forehead with an impatient hand. He paused when he noticed me coming, his hand midsweep, and then ducked his head with a shy grin.
Across from them, Lara, Niamh, and Juliette sat, already sipping on milkshakes. Juliette beckoned me to sit next to her on the light blue pleather. “The guys haven’t ordered yet,” she said. “We’ve been waiting here a while.”
“We had to get ready, didn’t we?” Matt asked. “Do you think looking this good happens by accident?”
Lara raised an eyebrow. “Oh, God, girls, I think this is what they look like when they’re trying. How tragic.” She looked down at her phone and smiled at something on the screen. I tried to catch a peek of it but she was too far away.
“So, uh, how did we do?” I asked in a small voice. I wasn’t used to talking in front of the basketball guys. Honestly, they intimidated me a bit. They always seemed so confident, and loud, and judgmental. Not really the best mix with people who weren’t also confident, and loud, and judgmental.
One of the guys I’d never spoken to before, Ethan, started thumping his hands on the table. The other guys joined him, in a four-by-four beat that got louder by the second. Except for Will. Will just folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, looking damned pleased with himself.
Darnell jumped out of his seat and grabbed Will’s shoulders. “This man right here, this man, won us the game.”
“We’re even footing the whole way,” Matt added, holding his arms up in front of him, “then in the last quarter we start dropping. We have, like, two minutes to go, Will’s one-on-one on the wing, he makes the shot, then he steals the inbound pass and hits another contested shot absolutely out of nowhere, and suddenly we’re in the lead.”
Will was grinning, but it wasn’t gentle like his usual one. It was the harder, smug smile that kept crossing his face whenever he was around these guys. I’d seen him look like this across the cafeteria a few times. So self-satisfied. It didn’t suit him.
“That’s the kind of play I’m used to seeing from you, man,” Matt said. He had what must’ve been his “captain” voice going on. Like a teacher congratulating an apprentice. It had such a warm tone to it, I could imagine guys busting their asses to have Matt talk to him with that kind of appreciation in his voice.
Darnell nodded. “Yeah, we worried you might’ve gone soft on us, with all those music lessons,” he said, nudging Will. Will’s eyes flickered toward me. He wasn’t smiling anymore.
Matt nodded. “Yeah, man. No offense, Ollie, but we thought you were turning him into a freaking goth or something.”
Right. Because I was totally a goth.
“Try emo pussy,” Darnell added, then wilted at Niamh’s fierce glare.
“Do you need to be a sexist pig?” she asked, before sucking on her straw like it’d done her some great wrong. “That’s foul.”
Will snickered—snickered—and hit Darnell with a rolled-up menu. “Yeah, don’t be a sexist pig, Darnell. The proper terminology is emo genitalia.”
Darnell swatted at him. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“And do I look fuckin’ emo to you, smartass? Give me some credit.”
Well, this was uncomfortable. And not that I exactly identified with being emo—come on, it wasn’t 2007—but obviously Will didn’t see any difference. And the way he’d scrunched up his nose at the idea told me a lot about what he thought of seeming anything like me. I glared at the table.
“To be honest, Will, it’s a good thing you’re not,” said Lara in a hard voice. “You don’t have the ass to pull off jeans that tight.”
The guys broke out into laughter, high-fiving each other. “Damn, Lara,” Matt said, looking half-impressed, half-delighted.
Wait, had Lara just stood up for me? That seemed very unlike her. But then she caught my eye, raised her eyebrows, and ran her tongue over her teeth. She had the air of someone who’d won a battle with the patriarchy. Holy shit, she had said that to stand up for me.
I almost would’ve grinned, if I didn’t feel so empty all of a sudden.
A waiter came over. The rest of the guys all competed with each other over ordering the best freak-shake—the shake with the most brownies, Nutella, strawberries, Oreos, peanut butter, whipped cream, shaving cream, laundry detergent, and whatever-the-hell-else they added on top.
When he came to take my order, though, I just shook my head and asked for a water. Will seemed to notice, but he didn’t say anything.
Juliette had leaned over to whisper with Niamh, then as soon as the waiter left, she turned back to the guys. “So, Darnell,” she said, while an alarmed Niamh shook her head at her. “Has anyone asked you to the Snowflake dance yet?”
His eyes went straight to Niamh, who was turning an interesting shade of burgundy. “Not … yet. It’s a little early for that, right?”
“It’s never too early,” Juliette said.
“What’s the Snowflake dance?” I asked, trying to keep quiet enough that the conversation didn’t become about me. But, of course, the whole table turned to look at me. Maybe if I talked more, I’d get less attention when I did speak up.
“It’s a dance we have right after Christmas break,” Juliette said.
“The catch is, girls have to ask guys,” Matt added.
Huh. Seemed pretty heteronormative. And what if a girl wanted to ask a girl? Or otherwise.
What if no one asked me?
Oh, God, what if someone did?
“Yeah, right, and how about you, Juliette?” Darnell asked. “You gone and asked someone already?”