Page 35 of Come As You Are

Seems I suck just as much as ever at figuring out who actually deserves my cookies.

To his credit, the next morning, Salem seems to realize he’s being a dick.Fine,says the note that lands on my desk in English.I’ll help you.

Shortly after, a follow-up lands.Do you know how to do laundry?

I flash back to that first moment of Rumson orientation, that dickbag Duncan implying I was there to clean up after his loser ass.Do your own fucking laundry,I write in firm block letters before tossing it back.

He snorts, loudly enough that a couple of kids in front of us turn around, and then there’s the sound of a new paper tearing and a scratching as he ekes out another barely legible note.

I’m not asking you to do my laundry. I’m asking you to teach me how to do laundry.

I glance up to see him watching for my response, and raise an eyebrow.

More tearing. More scrawling. Even with him bent over the paper I can see his lips curving up as he writes and then tosses the paper on my desk like a Frisbee.Teach me how to be good, Peach.

Mrs. Frank calls on Salem then, and while I would’ve been completely lost, he, annoyingly, gets the answer right and earns a nod of approval. As soon as she’s moved on, he starts writing another note.Teach me laundry and you get to go shopping in my stuff.

Okay, that actually is a pretty decent deal, even with Salem being a foot taller than me. There’s plenty I could do to crop one of his T-shirts, which on him look grungy but on me would look cute AF and definitely edgier than anything I own, and I do love that leather jacket…

I turn the last note over and pick up my pen.Deal. Be ready for me after dinner on Friday. I’ll be the one knocking like a banshee.

I would’ve chosen a card-game club if there’d been one, but since there wasn’t, I figured I could probably like other games as much if I gave them a chance. It was true for Board Games Club, where I played Codenames with a bunch of other sophomores and had a solid time despite losing miserably, but as I stare at the collection of black and white plastic pieces in front of me, I fear both my partner and I have sorely miscalculated.

“Doyouknow how to play chess?” Sabrina whispers to me from across the board.

“No clue,” I admit as I glance around, watching other people set up their pieces in a way that suggests there is very much a right way and a wrong way. “Do you?”

“I know the queen has the most power,” she says, touching a chipped black fingertip to the top of a crowned piece I assume is the royalty in question. “But it’s killing the king that wins the game.”

“Okay, yes, I know the king part. But I kind of thought they’d be teaching us how to play.” I glance around at the duos who’ve already begun their games, and am more than a little disappointed that we don’t get those clock things to press when our turns are over. “Or that it’d be easy to figure out.”

“You thought chess would be easy to figure out.”

“Well why areyouhere, if you knew you wouldn’t know what you’re doing?”

“I signed up for the GSA on Wednesdays, but apparentlyI was the only one, so they shuttered it for lack of interest,” she says with a tinge of annoyance. “There weren’t a lot of choices left by then, so I just picked something chill where no one would bug me for an hour.”

“That sucks,” I say, and I mean it. “Is it open to allies? I amsucha good friend that I would totally bail on chess if it’ll help get the group started.”

“I think that ship has sailed, but—”

“Ladies, do you two need help?”

We look up to see Brian, who can’t be more than a couple years older than we are but is trying his hardest to project Elderly Grandfather with his wardrobe, standing over us. The eyes of the club admin are displeased but trying to stay mild behind their wire-framed glasses. Judging by the book in his hand currently bookmarked by his index finger, he was hoping to be able to simply ignore us for the entire hour, and we are now a disruption of that plan.

Here’s where Old Evie would’ve made herself small and polite and pretended she didn’t need anything so he could get back toElbow Patches for Dummies,or whatever he was reading.

But I am not Old Evie, and I’m pretty sure heissupposed to be providing instruction to those of us who need it. And chess may not be a “cool girl” game, but I’ve always wanted to learn. “Yes, actually!” I say sunnily, even as Sabrina kicks me under the table. “Could you teach us how to play?”

“You… want me to teach you how to play chess?” He pushes his glasses farther up on his nose. “Right now? Like, from the beginning?”

“That’d be a great place to start!”

He stares at me for a few more seconds, as if he’s trying to confirm I’m not kidding, and then he sighs, pulls up a seat, and shows us how to arrange the pieces, ending with the line of pawns in front. He’s starting to explain how they all move when someone else calls for his attention—a chess emergency, I guess—and he tells us to look up the rest on our phones.

“I don’t have my phone here, do you?” Sabrina asks me.

“Nope.” We’re not supposed to have our phones on us until after cocurrics, and I haven’t quite broken all my rule-following habits just yet.

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