Page 5 of As You Walk On

“No,” Christian blurts. “Studying.”

“Lies!”

“Practicing the new Lizzo song for spring tryouts?”

“More deception.” Keyona tosses another fruit snack at him. “You know that song better than anyone on the drumline.”

It’s true. Christian is the star of our school’s marching band. All eyes are on the way he goesinwhile playing the snare drums.

“A party,” Christian finally concedes.

“I knew it!” Keyona swats his hip. “You’re gonna be all over—”

Christian shushes her before she can finish.

I pause.All over... who?

Thing is, Christian, as charming as he is, hasn’t ever dated anyone at Brook-Oak. Our school is far from ground zero for homophobia. TheZero ToleranceandBrook-Oak Welcomes Allsigns posted around the halls say so. We even have a QSA—sixteen members deep, not that I’m one of them. Still, our small, openly out queer community seldomly does the whole hand-holding, kissing-between-classes thing.

But most people know Christian’s gay and available.

I just need to make a move.

Beyond Christian’s group I spot Aleah Bird. Her head is lowered, body curled inward as an impatient Coach Hollingsworth talks to her. My stomach flips. I keep waiting for Aleah to look up, scowl my way. Thankfully, it doesn’t happen. Instead, she walks in the opposite direction.

It takes a beat to clear the last ten seconds from my brain.

Then I see Christian is five feet away. I lick my lips, willing confidence into my gait and—

WHAM!

I collide with another student. It’s a slow-motion disaster. Papers fly. Index cards spill across the pavement. My arms flap wildly before we both thud against the ground.

The first “Ooooh” is the worst. Gasps and high-pitched laughter follow. A small crowd forms around us as I roll to my side.Please don’t let Christian be one of them. Phones are out, even while Coach Hollingsworth threatens confiscation and suspension as she intercepts the crowd.

It’s too late, though.

#TeddyBearEatsCement is probably already trending.

“Are you—”

Before I can fully ask the person I smashed into if they’re hurt, I hear a clipped “I’m fine.” The other student adjusts crooked glasses, scrambling to collect the items I sent airborne across the quad. All I see is the back of a shaggy, copper-brown head. Woven bracelets running up a forearm. A collage of anime stickers on abackpack before they’re lost in the wave of people fleeing to the main building.

Christian and his friends are gone too.

“You okay, Theo?” Darren asks between chuckles.

He and Jay stand over me. Without meeting his eyes, I give two thumbs-up. It’s all I can do with the weight of failure pressing on all my limbs.

“That deserves a do-over,” says Jay, reaching to help me up.

Once I’m standing, he slides an arm around my sagging shoulders. He leads me back toward the building. Darren falls into step next to us.

“How am I gonna get another chance?” I mumble.

The lunch rule was established for a reason. We won’t see each other again until after school. Chances of me being in the same space as Christian on the Friday before spring break are also slim to none.

“Trust me,” says Jay, his grin at Cartoon Network–villain levels of mischief, “I’ll think of a plan.”

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