Page 4 of Pride High

“Who’s it going to be?” Omar was saying while slowly panning his camcorder across the school cafeteria. “Which one of these beautiful women is going to be the future Mrs. Jafari?”

“There she is,” David said, reaching up to stop the camera just as it pointed at the lunch ladies who were dishing out slop, one tray at a time.

“Hey,” Omar said as he lowered himself back onto the bench, “as long as they put out, I’m not turning anyone away.”

“Even the lady with the twin moles?” Dave asked.

“Who cares?” Omar said with a shameless grin. “I’m sick of being a virgin.” He glowered suddenly at their two lunch companions. “And don’t pretend you’re not, because we all are. Right?”

He looked to Anthony, who nodded in solidarity. It was the truth anyway. The other two guys started mumbling about how far they’ve gotten with girls but didn’t have the guts to claim they’d gone all the way. Dave and David… Anthony always had a difficult time telling them apart. They were both average height and build with almost the same shade of brown poofy hair. If one of them—David—wasn’t trying so hard to sprout a mustache, they’d be nearly identical. Then again, when he looked at his own best friend, they too had a questionable amount of similarities. Starting with their black hair. Anthony’s was naturally blond, although he hadn’t dyed it to match Omar, whose hair was the real deal thanks to his heritage. And yeah, they both preferred to dress in black, but whatever. Maybe that came with the territory. The closer you got to someone, the more alike you became.

“Who have you got your eye on?” Omar asked him. “Mindy kept looking over at you during class.”

“Mindy Beaumont?” David asked. “We used to date.”

“Since when?” Dave asked.

“We went to the dance together, remember?”

“That was in junior high!”

The dynamic of their friendship was different. Dave and David tended to pick at each other. Anthony and Omar hadeach other’s backs. That’s how it had always been, going all the way back to the first grade, when Anthony had struggled to use a drinking fountain. Omar had come up and held the button down for him, grinning the entire time like they were already friends. They hadn’t known each other yet. They’d been strangers in separate classrooms, but after meeting in the hall, they saw each other during recess and began playing together. They’d been inseparable ever since, rarely hanging out with anyone else outside of school. Anthony wouldn’t mind it staying that way either.

“What do you think?” Omar pressed, ignoring the other two. “Are you interested in Mindy?”

“We’re more like friends,” Anthony answered lamely.

“Who then?”

Anthony searched the cafeteria for a girl they would consider so pretty that they’d never actually expect him to talk to her. “Angela Simmons,” he said at last.

“The cheerleader?” Dave said with a snort. “Good luck!”

“Hey,” Omar said, “if Anthony says he’s going after Angela, it’s just a matter of time before she buckles.”

“Her boyfriend is a senior,” David said. “And he’shuge.”

“It’s not the size that counts,” Omar said. “Maybe you should keep your eyes to yourself in the locker room.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“So eager to deny it!” Omar chuckled. “But for real, she’s taken.”

“Then it’s a waiting game,” Anthony said with a shrug. He forced himself to ask the next question, not truly wanting an answer. “What about you?”

“My new Algebra teacher isn’t bad,” Omar said with a wicked grin that was… endearing. “She’s young too. Probably not even fifty yet.”

“So wrong,” Dave said, shaking his head. “Hey, me and David ended up in the same math class.”

“And the same English class!” David added excitedly.

“And it looks like we have fifth period together too.”

Omar scowled at them before turning to Anthony. “I’m so jealous. We should have taken that business elective together.”

“Yeah, I know.” Anthony had opted for psychology as his second elective. He spent so much time in his head these daysthat he thought it might help. With everything. “We still have journalism.”

“Even though we can’t sit at the same table. Or work together. Hey, what did Mr. Finnegan say?”

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