Page 121 of As You Walk On

I consider not replying. Ignorance truly is a special form of bliss. But I accidentally left my read receipts on. Plus, I need to accept the Luca ship has sailed. I screwed up my chance.

He deserves the prom of his dreams.

After typing then deleting three different versions of the same “fuck my life” response, I settle on two words:

I’m in!!!

Then I scream into my pillow, hoping not to wake Dad.

•••

The Marilyn Kensington Library is, quite frankly, stunning. Nothing like those dusty libraries in movies. Brook-Oak went all out for this sanctuary. Well lit, ideal temperatures year-round, limitless books, expensive computers and glass study rooms, and the perfect location to hide away from the world for hours. Another of this school’s major selling points.

It’s also one of the few places I’ve grown to love over the years.

For all the time I’ve spent here, I still have no clue who the donor is, despite the large plaque outside the double doors, but Marilyn Kensington must’ve been agoddess.

I have one hand on the brass door handle, finishing up a hilarious TikTok compilation of babies trying foods for the first time, when Darren catches me by the elbow.

“Wait! Let’s go have lunch together.”

I wrinkle my nose. “D, I need to study.”

Even after a spring break full of books, I still feel behind. The extra track practices leading up to conference finals haven’t helped.

“Bro, nourishment is a necessity,” Darren asserts. “Your brain needs fuel.”

“You need help,” I joke back, yanking the door open.

“Please. Just today. Me and you, out in the quad.”

At that, my hand goes numb. I lose my grip. The door almost swings closed on some poor underclassman’s face as she exits. Fortunately, she palms it back at the last second. Darren compliments her freakish reflexes as she flings us the stink eye, stomping away.

I whisper, “The quad?”

Darren smiles sheepishly.

Studying isn’t the only reason I’ve moved my lunchtime hangout to the library. I don’t want to face Jay. Practices with him present are difficult enough. I jump at any instance to be somewhere he’s not. The one course I’m acing is Avoidance 101.

“D, I’m not really—”

“Theo,” he says, quiet but serious. His fingers tug on my T-shirt sleeve until our eyes meet. “I miss bonding with my best friend. You’re always here. Then practices are, well, you know.”

The team continues to tiptoe around the collapse of our little group. Plus, Coach wants us focused on being our best. That leaves no room for goofing off like Darren and I used to do.

“It’s one lunch.”

My sneakers squeak against the floor as I weigh my options. The weather’s nice. A little sunshine might help me survive Mr.London’s class after. Maybe Jay won’t be outside. If he is, he’ll probably be with Jayla’s crowd. Word in the halls is they’re “working on their relationship.” Odds are they’ll be swapping corsages and tongues by prom.

Darren’s mouth has gone full pout mode, eyes ready to shed tears. Seriously, he’s in the wrong program at school. YPT would suit him perfectly.

“Fine,” I surrender. “But you’re buying metwocups of pretzel bites.”

He shoves me lightly as we fall in step. “I’ll even throw in extra mustard packets!”

•••

“Dude!” I yell, tossing a pretzel bite at Darren. “Are you on the run from the mob or something?”

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