Page 21 of The Other Side of Together

“Yeah.”I tap the Sharpie against the table’s edge.“As long as Face Eater doesn’t want in on this. Like I said—not my type. And we’re the only people who speak Eye Language. He might feel left out.”

“We’re also the most unlikely people to be together.”

“Why?”

“Because.” She talks to the crumpled bag of peas on the table. “You’re you and I’m me.”

I frown into the air. “How ‘bout a real reason?”

She tilts her head. “For someone who’s never done this, you seem to know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Or you make it feel like I don’t have to worry about what I’m doing.”

Her eyes drop back to the table.

“I thinkI’ve got a lead on Face Eater since I won’t beat you, but give me a percentage. If I were to guess just by reading your eyes, I’d say I have a solid… 75 percent chance.”

She looks at me. “You’re a terrible translator.”

“Lower?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Ah.”My fingers drum the table. “Don’t know enough about this whole liking each other thing to understand complications.”

She bites her lip and looks away, stirring her Oreos.

When she lifts her eyes again, I ask,“Am I being stupid?”She shakes her head, I swallow. “‘CauseI wanna get a 4.0 in this liking you thing.”

“I’ll bring down your GPA.”

Footsteps clomp up the stairs outside and my heart plummets. Dad footsteps. I grab Buddha and both bowls and bolt toward my room, motioning for Mei to follow, whirling mybedroom door shut behind us. “My dad’s home,” I whisper. “He can’t know you’re here.”

“Should I go out the window?”

I shake my head, my eyes on the door, head lit up with visions of Dad finding her here. “No. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Mei’s eyes go wide. “But my jacket’s still out there.”

1 *Answer: Make me one with everything.

CHAPTER 9

Oh. My.

Soggy Oreos bob in the bowls I’m still holding, the milk shivering from my shaking hands. I set the bowl on the dresser beside a framed picture of Marcus and his dad standing next to mountain bikes, beaming and sweaty.

I drag my eyes away so I don’t leave eye-prints all over things I can’t have when Detective Miller’s voice rumbles from the living room and through the closed door.

“No movie tonight?”

Marcus’s response is closer. “Nah, sorry. Can’t stay up late.”

“Understood. Maybe tomorrow night.”

“Perfect. Night, Dad.”

I spin around, scanning the room. I should sit and look comfortable somehow. My eyes skip over shelves of signed soccer balls and trophies. Stacks of books on the nightstand. A chalkboard wall covered in pie charts, diagrams, percentages. Navy down comforter on the bed, orange blanket balled near a pile of pillows…Nope. Not there. I jerk my eyes away. Desk chair?

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