Page 10 of And They Were Roommates

“Halfway through the term, we’ll check again for improvements. Questions?” Ms. Nallos’s sneakers crunch against the tended-to grass as she meanders between rows to check.

The moment she locks eyes with my tracksuit-less body, it’s over.

She walks up, studying my outfit. “You’re quite overdressed.”

I obscure my hands into fists and lower my chin so my curls shroud more of me. “I didn’t realize PE was on my schedule, so I didn’t buy the tracksuit set. Is this class really required for every student?”

“It is.”

“Ms. Nallos, I didn’t sign up for PE either,” a nasally voice whines one row over. Some white guy with a foot for a face, his chin overpronounced and bedhead sticking up in chunks.

Snickers come from another row.

“Quiet, Cody,” Ms. Nallos yells, then smiles at me oddly before checking her clipboard. “I’ve never taught you. Are you the Charlie von… Heavy Prince… I marked absent?”

Close enough. “Yes, I got lost on the way.”

Ms. Nallos returns to the front of the field and digs through a workout bag on a bench. She pulls out a clump of red clothes and chucks them over the lines of heads. “Catch!”

The clothes land in a pile at my dress shoes.

“Luckily, I’ve come prepared to help those whoforgottheir uniform.” Ms. Nallos points toward Pragma Recreational Center. “Locker room. Go. Five minutes to change.”

Spotlight number two.

Murmurs hit me from every angle as I swipe up the clothes and make my trip across the field, then search for the locker room in the center, mortification crashing through me. My feet are toosmall to wear just socks, I wear dress shoe sole inserts for a reason, Ican’t—

My back slides down the locker room door until I hit the freezing tile. The pants and shirt are marked withLon the tags. Could meanLoser. But probably just meansLarge. Now my body will look even narrower compared with everyone else’s. I check my watch again. Four minutes left. Maybe it’s already time to use my emergency phone call to Delilah. Why didn’t she warn me that physical education is mandatory? She should’ve known this would blow up my life.

Yet I sit there, frozen in place, letting time pass by as the fears I’ve swallowed since yesterday consume me. I haven’t gotten a second to breathe, let alone process everything already falling apart. Maybe I can’t pull off hiding here.

Ihaveto. For Mom. Forme.

I rush into a stall to change. Of course the joggers hang over my feet by an inch, and two watermelons could fit between me and this undershirt. By the time I’m back on the field, testing has begun. Ms. Nallos is listing off partners.

She recites a slew of names I don’t recognize before shouting, “Xavier Nguyen and Charlie von H, begin at pull-ups.”

From a group of muscular guys huddled in a friend circle, one steps forward. The six-foot-tall monster I cowered behind earlier.

My stomach drops as the walking mass of muscle named Xavier Nguyen approaches. I didn’t notice before, but unlike everyone else’s buzz cuts and short hair, the black bangs draped over his forehead are at least parted with a bit of style. He stops before me, and his meaty fist comes flying at my face.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the blow never comes. I open them.

Xavier shows a crooked smile, waiting for his fist to be bumped. “We meet again, man.”

My nerves flip as I knock his fist back lightly—but not too much. Be manly. Was it too much? “Y-yo.” I cringe internally even as I say it. End me.

We walk toward a square expanse of asphalt marked withPULL-UPS, where three metal bars increase in height. Xavier zips off his tracksuit jacket, only leaving behind the undershirt, and pulls a spoon from his pants pocket. He kisses the curved back.

I blink at the spoon.

He returns a blink like I’m the problem. “What? Gotta beat my personal record from last year. This spoon’s lucky.”

It’s not even a miniature collector spoon for grandmas or a special trinket one could find in an antique store. Just a normal spoon. “How do you know it’s lucky?”

“My friend’s an expert in the dark arts.”

Okay.

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