“Diversify?” Jonah says.
“Yeah, ’cause not all of us get to play the top athlete card, bro,” Brandon says. “I mean, I’ve played on the school’s golf team since freshman year, but it’s not like I’m winning gold medals at it.”
I forget that other people do stuff besides study. “I didn’t even know you liked golf.”
Brandon shrugs. “Ehhh. My dad says it’s a good skill for future CEOs.”
“Even I need to diversify and be more well-rounded. Therefore—” Erika looks at Naomi, who gives her a nod of encouragement. Then, she blurts out, “I’m going to audition for the school musical. There. I said it. I know I’m not going to get a lead role. I can’t compete against the theatre kids who have been doing shows since, like, birth, but I’m not too proud. I’ll be a tree or build sets or pass out programs or whatever. You guys will still come, though, right?”
Though Naomi and Brandon pledge their immediate loyalty to this high school phenomenon called the spring musical, I notice Jonah is as noncommittal as I am. Is it because he knows his skating will always come first? Or is he feeling as conflicted as I am? I look around the table. Though I genuinely enjoy Brandon’s quirky, unfiltered take on life, sometimes I don’t feel like I belong at this table at all. Yeah, I’m half Asian and sometimes like attracts like, but I don’t know if you can build a true friendship on just that. What would happen if Jonah and I stopped sitting here each day?
“The rest of us are going to have to step up our game if we want scholarships,” Naomi says. “Good scholarships. Not some dinky $1,000 one that will barely cover books for one semester. What are you going to do to stand out with colleges, Olivia?”
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe land a few triple-double-doubles? Or I could just set myself on fire.
“She skates,” Jonah answers for me. “You all saw it. Olivia is a talented pairs figure skater. Gold medal quality.”
“Egg and I were the US Junior Pairs champs,” I brag shamelessly.
“I don’t think colleges count the work you did in junior high school.” Erika is deadly serious, though the two are not the same at all. “What do you have that is a little more recent?”
Are you freaking kidding me?!
“Seriously, Olivia, join the National Honor Society with us.” Naomi puts away her paper. “It’ll improve your chances of getting into a good college. I’ll help you do the paperwork. I’m good at making stuff sound bigger and more important than it is without actually lying about it.”
“I have a C-minus in geometry. I think that disqualifies me.” I push my tray of mostly uneaten food away. I’m so tired after this long weekend that I don’t have the energy to pretend like I care.
“Maybe the committee will make an exception since it’s your first semester of real school.”
“Wow. Just … wow.” Jonah shakes his head.
“You know what we need?” Brandon pulls at the neck of his T-shirt. “Pastries. A good bake always makes things better. I’m thinking apple pie? No, lemon meringue. Key lime?”
When the bell rings, Jonah walks with me to the trash can while everybody else moves on to English class.
“Are you really going to do it?” Jonah says.
“Apply for the National Honor Society?”
“No, start skating with Stuart again as a pair if he doesn’t get this gig.”
“Why? Are you jealous?” I give Jonah a flirty smile.
He shrugs. He is jealous. Bad.
“Jonah, Egg is like my big brother, okay?”
“I know I’m an only child, but I still don’t think I would be able to kiss my sibling like that.”
“It’s called acting. Egg and I were never a couple off the ice. We are never going to be a couple off the ice. And if Egg gets this gig, we won’t be a couple on the ice either.”
“Okay.” Jonah takes my backpack and slides it over his other shoulder. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And you don’t have to carry that for me.”
“I know. It’s weight training.” Jonah does a series of lunge walks out of the cafeteria. “Seriously, what are you carrying in here, bowling balls?”
“Stooooop.” I pull Jonah to a stand. “People think we’re weird enough as it is.”
“We’re not weird. Maybe a little extra.”
“Definitely extra. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Jonah puts out his fist, and we do our still incredibly dorky hand sign.
“C’mon, we’re going to be late to English.”
I squeeze Jonah’s hand, but let it go. Principal Green is always in the hallway outside of the cafeteria, busting up post-lunch PDA. I don’t want to get detention for something so stupid. I’ve got skating to do.
“So, did you check your schedule? Are you free on Saturday night?” Jonah says as we drag ourselves to English.
I look around the hall. Principal Green isn’t in his usual perch. In fact, there aren’t any teachers or staff in the hall at all. Weird. I’m not going to complain, though. I flip around in front of Jonah and lace my fingers through his.
“Yeah, I am. Think we could hang out at your house?” I walk backward down the hallway in perfect synchronization with Jonah, just like we’re on the ice. “I’m dying to see what your room looks like.”
Since the coast is clear, I stop and raise up on my toes. My lips are millimeters away from Jonah’s when a warning blare erupts from the school intercom.
“Attention, everyone. We are in a lockdown situation,” Ms. Walters—whose voice is usually annoyingly perky even during disaster drills—says, her voice tight and flat. “We are in lockdown with an intruder. I repeat. We are in lockdown with an intruder.”
You want to motivate 2,500-plus kids in two seconds flat? This is how you do it. A burst of sound—scraping chairs and pounding feet—follows, as everyone flies into action.
“What the hell are you two doing? Get in here.” Mrs. Diaz yanks Jonah by a backpack strap into her Spanish class. Still connected to Jonah, I stumble in the door behind him. Mrs. Diaz slams the door and locks it. “Get over there with the rest of my class. Right now.”
Mrs. Diaz flips off the lights. I walk blindly down the side of the dark, unfamiliar classroom. My foot tangles in the strap of someone’s hastily discarded backpack. Jonah’s strong hands on my waist keep me from taking a header into the floor.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
The emergency blare goes off again, and several people shriek.
“Silence,” Mrs. Diaz barks.
Ms. Walters repeats her plea, but her voice cracks: “Attention. We are in lockdown with an intruder. I repeat. We are in lockdown with an intruder.”
Muffled whimpering erupts from several areas of the room. Jonah slides down the wall and throws his backpack between him and some girl I don’t know wearing a soccer jersey. I kneel next to him, putting my backpack on the other side of us like a buffer. I lace my fingers through Jonah’s and squeeze his hand tight. Footsteps echo down the hall. Someone is running. The whimpering gets louder as the footsteps get closer.