Page 27 of New Year

“What do you mean?”

“I heard Preston’s whole face is fucked up—like, permanently. And that he’s blind now.”

“Oh my god,” I say, nearly choking on my pizza. “Why haven’t these kids been arrested?”

“They have,” Daria says. “But their dad just bails them out, and they get suspended for fighting for a few days. The cops can’t really arrest one person for fighting and not the other just because one person gets hurt worse. Unless someone dies.”

“Shit,” I say. “Poor Lindsey.”

“Yeah, she’s really going through it this year.”

We eat in silence for a second, and I’m annoyed that Oliver’s words pop into my head. They keep coming back, like he planted an evil little seed in my friendship.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” I say after a minute.

“Always,” Daria says, popping a piece of pepperoni into her mouth.

“Nate’s a loser, right?” I ask, working my way up to the real question.

“Nate Swift?” she asks, then shakes her head and takes a drink of her soda. “No. No way. I mean, he’s not popular in the same way as the jocks, but everyone in school knows him. He’sfamous in the class president, Honor Society, rich genius kind of way. He’ll probably get early admission to like, every Ivy League school in the country. They’ll be fighting over him.”

“So he’s, like, popular with the ambitious, academic kids.”

“Definitely.”

Hearing Daria speak highly of him reassures me.

I pick up my pizza again. “So what happened between you guys?”

“The other day?”

“No,” I say. “Oliver said you used to hang out.”

“Oh my god, I almost forgot,” she says with a little laugh. “That was like a million years ago.”

“Or… Three?”

“Same difference,” she says. “It wasseventh grade.”

I set my pizza down, my stomach tight. It’s unlike Daria to evade questions. She usually opens the floodgates when she has the chance to spill tea.

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess. I just wondered why he’s not in the group anymore, and if we need to worry about Lindsey. He seemed like one of those guys who might snap one day and hurt someone.”

“And that’s why he’s not allowed around our group,” she says lightly.

“If he’s dangerous, why was he allowed back at our school?”

“Right?” she says. “I think he got therapy or something.”

I pick at my food for a minute. I want to believe her, but it doesn’t add up.

“But you said to Elaine the other day that you’re not supposed to mess withhim.”

“Oh, you know how Elaine is,” she says. “She likes to poke the beast, and it’s better not to provoke him. But don’t worry about Lindsey. If he went after anyone, it would be Elaine.”

“I might like to see that,” I mutter.

“Right?” she agrees with a giggle.

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