Page 19 of Not Fooling Anyone

“Oh, have either of you taken Dr. Kroft’s Russian Lit class?” Amber asks, leaning forward in her seat to address us both. “I took it last semester and absolutely loved it.”

Christian groans. “Are you still going on about that? She wouldn’t stop talking about this professor. She had a huge crush on him.”

“I did not,” she declares. She turns till she’s out of his line of sight and mouthsI did, grinning.

“I’m in his class now,” Lexie says. “But I think he has a girlfriend. I saw him on campus the other day holding hands with someone.”

“She look kind of like me? Same skin color and curly hair?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“I’ve seen them too. And they’re, like, disgustingly in love.”

Does she sound a little disappointed?

“You should ask her for help understanding your book,” I whisper to Lexie.

She waits till Amber’s preoccupied getting her stuff out of her backpack to whisper back, “No way.”

“Why not?”

She faces toward me, hissing under her breath, “Because I don’t know her.”

“She seems nice. You should make friends.”

“Will you shut up?”

“Hey, Amber,” I say in a louder voice. “Lexie’s having some trouble understandingWar and Peace. Did you read that one?”

Lexie’s jaw firms so hard, it’s a wonder she doesn’t break a tooth.

“Oh, yeah. That was one of the first ones we read. I was so lost at the beginning of that class, but it gets better, I promise. If you want to talk about it, let me know.”

“Thanks.”

I bite my lip as Lexie presses the heel of her foot into the top of mine, smashing my toes.

“Actually,” Amber continues, “we were thinking of forming a study group for Psych. I have a friend in the Monday-Wednesday class who knows some people who’d be interested. Would you want to join?”

“Oh, we’d love to,” I tell her before Lexie can decline. She presses her foot down even harder in response.

“Great. We could get together tonight since our first test is next week. Do you want to chip in for a few pizzas?”

“Sure. Lexie and I will split a meat lover’s.”

“The one thing you remember I like,” Lexie mutters, barely audible.

“Do you live in the dorms?” Amber asks. “We’re on different floors in Chapman Hall.”

I actually have no idea where Lexie lives. We never got around to that during dinner Tuesday night. “I rent a room in a house with three other guys not far from here.”

“I’m off campus,” is all Lexie supplies.

The sound of Dr. Clark’s mic turning on has us quieting, the scritch of pens and pencils on paper mixed with the clacking of keys on keyboards echoing through the room. I lean back and listen as she goes over operant behavior, absorbing her words, and after about ten minutes, Lexie leans over to ask, “Are you sure you don’t need to take notes?”

I stretch my arm out, resting it on the back of her chair. “Why bother when my tutor’s taking notes for me?”

“You’re infuriating,” she whispers, not looking at me again for the rest of the class.

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