Page 78 of You Are Not Me

“Yeah,” I agreed fondly. “They’re jerks.”

He scuffed his foot on the asphalt.

“Did you want to ask me something?”

“Yeah, I did.” He cleared his throat and fidgeted. “But first, I want to give you something.” He pulled a cassette tape out of his back pocket. “Happy birthday.”

“A mixtape?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Of stuff I like.”

I clutched the cassette tightly. “Thank you.”

“And there’s something else.”

“Yeah?”

Kiss me, please kiss me.

“Like I said earlier, we’re looking for new volunteers at ARK. I thought you might be interested?”

My hopes plummeted. He’d said he wasn’t going to pressure me, and he wasn’t, but damn, I wished he were a little less honorable.

“I don’t know. I admit I’m curious. It’s just between work, photography, and soon school, I don’t know how much time I could invest. I wouldn’t want to let anyone down.” More like I wouldn’t want to letDanieldown.

“Well, I have an idea. If you want, you could come with me on some rounds, meet my PWA—Person with AIDS—and maybe…” he looked back at where Minty and Windy were now making kissy noises at us. “Shut up!” he shouted at them.

My heart fluttered. I wanted to grab him by his hair—it was so soft-looking in the looming darkness—and kiss his wet mouth.

“What I was saying is you could come along with me and see what you think. If nothing else, maybe you’d be willing to be a back-up for me. You know, when I’ve got class or a test or something.”

“It’d be cool to see what you do. Sure.”

Daniel’s smile was enough to make my stomach flip over. He grabbed my face, puckered his lips, and I went completely still in anticipation. My knees shook as he leaned in. My eyes drifted shut, blood rushing in my ears.

He pressed a wet smack against my forehead.

“Awesome! I’ll call you to set it up.” He backed away from me, grinning. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Bobby. He’s amazing. He’s going to love you.”

“Aw, yeah!” Antonio shouted, punching a fist in the air. “And we have a forehead kiss. I declare this officially liftoff!”

In the car, I shoved Daniel’s tape into the cassette deck and smiled at the opening mandolin of R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion.”

As I drove home, I could still feel Daniel’s kiss—a cool, wet tingle on my forehead—and I didn’t wipe it away.

***

“Eater? Is thatyou?”

“No, it’s my mom, duh.” I laughed into the phone, sliding down the wall to sit on the kitchen floor. I wore sweatpants and an old UT sweatshirt, but I still shivered in the kitchen’s air-conditioned chill. It was nearly two in the morning, and of course I’d waited up for Adam’s call.

“Happy birthday!”

“Thank you.”

“You got my letter?”

“Yeah. Yesterday.”

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