Page 50 of Something Rad
Robbie scoffs out a laugh. “I should be asking you the same thing. I’ve caught you staring a hole in the thing multiple times now.” I look away, feeling heat rush to my face. “And yet, you haven’t signed up. Why?” he asks.
“Robbie, we have an assignment to do.”
“No taxation without representation,” Robbie says, catching me off guard.
“You know that?” I question him, surprised.
“Your name isn’t on the list,” he continues, ignoring my question.
“I’m glad to know you're not blind. Probably wouldn’t be good for the family business.”
Robbie’s jaw flexes, but he doesn’t address my comment. “Why haven’t you signed up yet?”
I push my fingers into my temples, rubbing them in circles. “You’re infuriating. Do you know that?”
“Just answer the question, Cooper.”
“Youjust answer a single question for the assignment we’re supposed to be doing!” I whisper-shout at him, exasperated.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” I ask, surprised.
“That’s what I said.”
“Great,” I smile. “What are your thoughts on the Boston Massacre?”
“No taxation without representation,” Robbie recites.
Oh. So that’sallhe knows.
My face falls, and I start tapping the eraser of my pencil onto my desk in frustration.
“Now, tell me why,” he says.
I let out a sigh. It has become clear to me that he’s not going to give this up, so I may as well answer. “Because I don’t know if I’m even going to sign up,” I say, not meeting his eyes.
“What?Why?” Robbie asks.
“Why do youthink?”
“But I don’t understand,” Robbie says. “You need to be president to be the yearbook editor. You need it for your scholarship–”
Before I know what I’m doing I’m covering Robbie’s mouth with my hand. “Jesus, Robbie.” I see movement in my peripheral vision and glance to the side, seeing Jesse whipping back around like he had just been looking our way. I quickly remember that his name is on the sign-up sheet, and my face instantly turns three shades of pink darker.
I suddenly feel a wetness against my hand and gasp, yanking it away from Robbie’s face. “Oh my God. Did you seriously justlickme?” I ask.
“Could’ve bitten you,” Robbie says, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve.
“Are you actually five years old?”
“Turned six last week,” Robbie replies, smirking.
“Hilarious,” I deadpan. “Truly. And by the way, talk louder next time, won’t you? I don’t think the middle schoolers next door heard you.”
“I don’t get what the big deal is–”
“Of courseyou don’t!” I cut Robbie off. “And that’s exactly my point.”
