I smile as I approach the table. “Hey,” I say, happy and confused all at once, but not wanting to question their presence.
“Dude!” Sydney says as soon as I sit down. I open my bag and pull out my food. “I heard you’re cheating on us.”
I frown and look up. “Um, what?”
She does her white-girl-hair-flip thing and her curls cascade down one side of her head like weeping willow branches. She’s wearing complicated-looking earrings today that are made up of metal rods and circles. They glint and swing as she moves her head. “You’re gonna tutor someone else, right? Because you skipped school?”
“How on earth do you know that?” I ask her. But she just clasps her hands together and tucks them under her chin. “Oh, I know people.”
“So who is it?” Dom asks next. “I saw you in Novak’s Hot Seat the other day, and I forgot to ask you about it last night. I knew something was going down.”
I look down at my lunch tray. “It’s Layla,” I say. “And I’m not cheating on you just because you guys were the last people I tutored.”
Sydney responds by pulling out her Macbeth paper, and it’s clearly a revision. “This is the version I turned in to Novak, and she stopped me on my way to lunch and told me she’d read my introductory paragraph and she found it fascinating. She said she was looking forward to seeing how my argument came together.”
Sydney raises her eyebrows.
Dom nods, agreeing. “What we talked about really helped me pull mine together last night too,” he says.
His dark eyes are aimed straight at me, and for a second, I’m back up on that roof with him, talking about fate and lies and stars. But then I remember how Novak said he didn’t need a tutor.
“Why’d you even ask me for help?” I finally ask Dom. “Did you know he’s second in our class?” I say to Sydney. “Second.”
“Right. And you’re first,” Dom says. “Which means you’re literally the only person I could go to for help other than Novak. And you’re…how can I put this? More my type.” He smirks.
I press my lips together and look away because I can’t believe how overtly he’s flirting with me, right in front of Sydney. I turn to her because I can’t look at Dom.
“This thing with Layla is different, though,” I start to explain. “We used to be friends, but she’s…kind of a bitch to me now.”
I chance a glance in the direction of her table, and she isn’t looking my way. I shouldn’t be surprised. I basically don’t exist to her anymore.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Sydney says. “See them?” She points across the cafeteria to a table where Willa Bae is twirling a piece of Lark Dixon’s long blond hair.
“Yeah,” I say.
“You see how she’s, like, all over Lark?”
Dom kind of laughs and I say, “Yeah, Syd. It’s not really surprising.”
Willa is the biggest player at our school. In addition to having dated or kissed just about every queer and questioning girl at Chisholm, she’s straight-up stolen a few guys’ girlfriends. Still, she’s almost universally loved, probably because she’s the president of the GSA, captain of the softball team, and drop-dead gorgeous. Her black hair is short but the cut is so haphazard that it looks a little like the start of some kind of dark fire, and her nose is pierced, though her ears aren’t. You’d expect someone like Willa Bae to hang out with the “Cool Asian Kid” clique, but she’s a bit of a free agent. She starts to touch Lark’s hands and forearms next, slipping one of nearly a dozen bangles off her wrist and onto Lark’s. Lark giggles. Sydney clears her throat so I look back over at her.
“Right. Well, me and Willa have known each other forever, but in middle school we got really close. She’d come over a lot and keep me company because my dad worked all those late hours at the restaurant. She liked to bake and said it was a travesty that we had this amazing kitchen that my dad never actually used.”
I nod, remembering. When I was tutoring Sydney last semester, sometimes I’d come to her apartment and Willa would be there. I hadn’t noticed, but now that I think about it, Sydney’s definitely been hanging out with her less.
“Your dad works at a restaurant?” Dom asks, and Sydney says, “Yep. He’s a chef. It sucks.”
“Really? I kinda think I wanna be a chef,” Dom insists. And Sydney scoffs.
“You’re too nice. Don’t do it. It would ruin you. Believe me.”
“But wait, what happened?” I ask Sydney, trying to get back to the subject at hand. “Between you and Willa, I mean.”
“Um. I’ll tell you later,” she says. But she tilts her chin in Dom’s direction and it’s clear she doesn’t want him to know.
Dom feigns shock and insult. But Sydney just sips her chocolate milk and stays silent.
After a few seconds, I say, as gently as I can, “So, I kinda want to know. You mind?” to Dom. I can’t believe I’m asking someone to leave this table when, for the last month, I would have died for the company.
“You’re serious?” Dom asks. And I look at Sydney.
“Why does no one take me seriously?” Sydney wonders aloud. “Is it because I have perfectly conditioned hair and I’m the president of the fashion club? Is it because people assume girls who like makeup and cute clothes are doing it for the male gaze, so it’s strange that I don’t always want dudes around?”
Dom clenches his teeth awkwardly and I stretch my eyes wide. “I think she’s serious,” I whisper.
“Damn,” Dom says. But he collects his stuff and stands to leave. Sydney blows him a kiss and he rolls his eyes.
“Love ya, mean it,” Sydney calls as he walks away, and I cover my mouth so he doesn’t hear me laughing at his dismissal.
“So,” I say, turning to her. “What really went down with Willa?”
Sydney sips her chocolate milk again before she speaks.
“We kissed,” she says simply. And I wait for her to say more.
“Willa’s been out since middle school, and she’s been a huge flirt since then too. And for the last couple of years, I was there for all of her epic crushes and kisses and breakups. I’ve force-fed her ice cream so many times while she cried over all those girls, you know? Because as much as she puts herself out there, she still gets hurt all the time.”
I nod. I don’t know what it would be like to be that brave when it comes to love. Sounds terrifying.