Boy Meets Boy Read Online Free PDF Page B

hurts.

    As I slam my locker shut, Kyle walks by me.

    He nods and says hi. He even almost smiles.

    I am floored.

    He keeps walking, not turning back.

    My life is crazy, and there's not a single thing I can do about it.

    Finding Lost Languages

    "Maybe he was saying hi to someone else," I say.

    It's a couple of hours later and I'm talking to Tony, recounting the drama to the one person who wasn't there.

    "And the smile--well, maybe it was just gas," I add.

    Tony nods noncommittally.

    "I don't know why Kyle would start talking to me again. It's not like I've done anything differently. And it's not like he's the kind of guy who changes his mind about this kind of thing."

    Tony sort of shrugs.

    "I wish I could call Noah, but I don't feel like we're close enough for that. I mean, would he even know who I was if I called? Would he recognize my name or my voice? It can wait until tomorrow, right? I don't want to seem too neurotic."

    Tony nods again.

    "And Joni. What was she thinking, snogging up to Chuck in the middle of the hall like that?
    Do I let her know that I know, or do I pretend I don't know and secretly count the number of times she talks to me before she lets me know, resenting each and every minute that goes by without her telling me the truth?"

    Tony sort of shrugs again.

    "Feel free to chime in at any time," I tell him.

    "Don't have much to say," he answers with another slight shrug, this one slightly apologetic.

    We are at my house, doing each other's homework. We try to do this as often as possible. In much the same way that it's more fun to clean up someone else's room than it is to clean up your own, doing each other's homework is a way to make the homework go faster. Early in our friendship, Tony and I discovered we had similar handwriting. The rest came naturally.
    Of course, we go to different schools and have different assignments. That's the challenge.
    And the challenge is what it's all about.

    "What book is this paper supposed to be on, anyway?" I ask him.

    "Of Mice and. Men."

    "You mean, 'Please, George, can I pet the bunnies?' "

    "Yup."

    "Cool, I've read that one."

    I start scribbling a topic sentence, while Tony flips through a French-English dictionary to finish my French homework. He takes Spanish.

    "You don't seem very surprised about Joni," I say.

    "Saw it coming," he replies, not raising his eyes from the dictionary.

    "Really? You pictured Ted and me catching them in the hallway?"

    "Well, not that part."

    "But Chuck?"

    "Well, not that part, either. But face it. Joni likes having a boyfriend. And if it's not going to be Ted, it's going to be someone else. If this guy Chuck likes her, odds are she's going to like him back."

    "And you approve of this?"

    This time he looks right at me. "Who am I to approve or disapprove? If she's happy, then good for her."

    There is an unhappy edge in Tony's voice, and it doesn't take leaps to get to the source of it.
    Tony's never really had a boyfriend. He's never been in love. I don't exactly know why this is.
    He's cute, funny, smart, a little gloomy--all attractive qualities. But he still hasn't found what he's looking for. I'm not even sure he knows what that is. Most of the time, he just freezes.
    He'll have a quiet crush, or even groove with someone who has boyfriend potential . . . and then, before it's even started, it will be over. "It wasn't right," he'll tell us, and that will be that.

    This is one of the reasons I don't want to dwell on Noah with him. Although I'm sure he's happy for me, I don't think his happiness for me translates into happiness for himself. I need another way to buoy him. I resort to speaking in a nonexistent language.

    "Hewipso faqua deef?" I ask him.

    "Tinsin rabblemonk titchticker," he replies.

    Our record for doing this is six hours, including a lengthy trip to the mall. I don't know how it started--one day we were walking along and I just got tired of speaking English. So I started throwing