of a blond ponytail from the corner of his eye and almost paused, but it turned out to be one of those perky chicks who were always giggling every time he walked into a room. Not the blond he was looking for.
âSo, anyway, what are we going to do?â Carlos asked.
Jake stepped out of traffic and paused near a row of lockers, rolling his eyes and expertly appearing as if he was simply fed up with the crush of people.
âI got an idea,â Jake said, glancing left at the locker that belonged to the blond who he was looking for. The blond who, conveniently, could also solve this new problem.
âYeah? What?â Carlos asked, gripping one strap of his backpack with both hands. âIâm all ears.â
It was an unfortunate turn of phrase for a guy who was, in fact, mostly ears. Jake glanced from one of Carlosâs big flappers to the other slowly, and Carlos reddened. It wasnât that Jake wanted to embarrass the kid. He actually kind of liked Carlos and his perpetual kinetic state. But if he were forced to reveal that Gaia Moore was the person he was thinking of to take Robâs spot, that she was the person heâd been scanning the halls for all day, that she was owner of the locker theyâd just stopped next to, then heâd also be forced to admit something that he was not willing to admit.
That he couldnât stop thinking about her. That he wanted to spend more time with her. That the karate team was the perfect excuse.
âWhy are we stopping here?â Carlos asked when he regained his happy-go-lucky self. âThe bellâs gonna ring.â
âNo reason,â Jake said, shrugging one shoulder. He looked down the emptying hall, and there was no sign of her. Apparently Gaia had decided to take a vacation day. Jake tried to ignore the hot infusion of disappointment in his chest.
âLetâs go,â he said to Carlos, just as the bell rang.
He was not disappointed that he hadnât gotten to see her before homeroom. He wasnât. He just needed her. No. The team needed her. Thatâs what this was all about.
And the fact that heâd been looking for her before he even knew the team needed her? Eh. That just meant he was psychic.
Friendless
THERE COMES A POINT IN EVERY MANâS life when he has to ask himself, How did I get here . . . ? This, Ed Fargo, is that moment.
âUh, you gonna move?â
Ed glanced over his shoulder at the scrawny little pale-faced, red-eyed Internet addict behind him and stepped out of his way. A group of four other such indoor beings, all of whom were probably still mourning the death of The X-Files , followed the kid out of the cafeteria line and over to a table in the corner.
See? Even geeky freshmen who havenât seen the sun since their diaper days have someone to sit with. You, however, have reached a point, as a senior, where you do not. How did you get here?
Taking a deep breath, Ed shuffled over to one of the smaller tables by the wall farthest from the lunch line, kicked a chair away from the table, and slumped into it. He placed his tray down in front of him and shrugged out of his backpack, tossing it into the empty chair to his right. It wasnât like anyone was going to be using it.
Ed picked up his plastic fork and stared at it as if it held the meaning of life between its tines. But his brain was actually trying to avoid finding the inevitable answer to his more pressing question by focusing on the inanimate object.
âI wonder why plastic forks grip pasta better,â Ed muttered to himself, sticking the utensil into his noodles.
Unfortunately, this little quandary could only occupy his brain for so long, and the answer to the more important quandary finally came to him.
You got to this point because of Gaia , his brain voice said.
Edâs jaw clenched. No. That wasnât fair. It wasnât only Gaiaâs fault that he was friendless. It was Heatherâs, it
âSo, anyway, what are we going to do?â Carlos asked.
Jake stepped out of traffic and paused near a row of lockers, rolling his eyes and expertly appearing as if he was simply fed up with the crush of people.
âI got an idea,â Jake said, glancing left at the locker that belonged to the blond who he was looking for. The blond who, conveniently, could also solve this new problem.
âYeah? What?â Carlos asked, gripping one strap of his backpack with both hands. âIâm all ears.â
It was an unfortunate turn of phrase for a guy who was, in fact, mostly ears. Jake glanced from one of Carlosâs big flappers to the other slowly, and Carlos reddened. It wasnât that Jake wanted to embarrass the kid. He actually kind of liked Carlos and his perpetual kinetic state. But if he were forced to reveal that Gaia Moore was the person he was thinking of to take Robâs spot, that she was the person heâd been scanning the halls for all day, that she was owner of the locker theyâd just stopped next to, then heâd also be forced to admit something that he was not willing to admit.
That he couldnât stop thinking about her. That he wanted to spend more time with her. That the karate team was the perfect excuse.
âWhy are we stopping here?â Carlos asked when he regained his happy-go-lucky self. âThe bellâs gonna ring.â
âNo reason,â Jake said, shrugging one shoulder. He looked down the emptying hall, and there was no sign of her. Apparently Gaia had decided to take a vacation day. Jake tried to ignore the hot infusion of disappointment in his chest.
âLetâs go,â he said to Carlos, just as the bell rang.
He was not disappointed that he hadnât gotten to see her before homeroom. He wasnât. He just needed her. No. The team needed her. Thatâs what this was all about.
And the fact that heâd been looking for her before he even knew the team needed her? Eh. That just meant he was psychic.
Friendless
THERE COMES A POINT IN EVERY MANâS life when he has to ask himself, How did I get here . . . ? This, Ed Fargo, is that moment.
âUh, you gonna move?â
Ed glanced over his shoulder at the scrawny little pale-faced, red-eyed Internet addict behind him and stepped out of his way. A group of four other such indoor beings, all of whom were probably still mourning the death of The X-Files , followed the kid out of the cafeteria line and over to a table in the corner.
See? Even geeky freshmen who havenât seen the sun since their diaper days have someone to sit with. You, however, have reached a point, as a senior, where you do not. How did you get here?
Taking a deep breath, Ed shuffled over to one of the smaller tables by the wall farthest from the lunch line, kicked a chair away from the table, and slumped into it. He placed his tray down in front of him and shrugged out of his backpack, tossing it into the empty chair to his right. It wasnât like anyone was going to be using it.
Ed picked up his plastic fork and stared at it as if it held the meaning of life between its tines. But his brain was actually trying to avoid finding the inevitable answer to his more pressing question by focusing on the inanimate object.
âI wonder why plastic forks grip pasta better,â Ed muttered to himself, sticking the utensil into his noodles.
Unfortunately, this little quandary could only occupy his brain for so long, and the answer to the more important quandary finally came to him.
You got to this point because of Gaia , his brain voice said.
Edâs jaw clenched. No. That wasnât fair. It wasnât only Gaiaâs fault that he was friendless. It was Heatherâs, it
Similar Books
Final Hour (Novella)
Dean Koontz
Annihilation of Caste: The Annotated Critical Edition
B.R. Ambedkar
Drake
Peter McLean
You're Kitten Me
Celia Kyle
The Mushroom Man
Stuart Pawson
Sassy's Studs
Dakota Rebel
The Owl Keeper
Christine Brodien-Jones
The Heretic Kings
Paul Kearney