Page 60 of Eye of the Beholder

He just shakes his head again, and his smile fades. Now he just looks disconcerted. “Nothing. I’ll see you later, Mina.”

“Wednesday?” I say. “I’m not working.”

“Yep,” he says, already walking toward his house. “We’re learning about one of Jack’s favorite things. Be ready.”

Before I can ask him for more details, he waves over his shoulder at me and picks up his pace. And then, because I guess part of my brain is still missing, I stand there in the cold and watch him walk away.

19

Mina

The more time I spend with Lydia, the more I like her. I sit with her at lunch every day, despite my initial protests. She and her best friend, Jade, are just really nice, which sort of blows my mind. I guess I just always assumed that pretty people were mean, but I’m quickly realizing how judgmental that was. Lydia is positively angelic. Everyone seems to like her, possibly because she’s involved in a million different clubs and knows everybody. And Jade is about as beautiful as they come—long red hair and a face full of freckles with this incredible bone structure and eyelashes a mile long—but she’s just as kind as Lydia, although she’s got more of a headstrong, spirited vibe about her. I like them both, and I’m not sure how I’m ever going to be able to thank Lydia properly for taking me under her wing.

On Wednesday at lunch, Lydia nudges me with her elbow. “You have an admirer,” she says, wearing a grin so reminiscent of Cohen’s that I smile. “Jack is checking you out.”

“No, he’s not,” I say. “He’s basically with Virginia.”

“I don’t know about that,” Lydia says, tilting her head so that her hair falls in her eyes. She’s as cute as ever today. She somehow manages to look effortlessly stylish at all times. “Cohen says Jack was really annoyed after the whole haunted house thing on Saturday.”

Ah, yes. The haunted house thing. I’ve been trying not to think about it, because I know how to interpret exactly zero percent of what happened that night. Were Cohen and I holding hands? Yes. Did I like it? Also yes. Did he almost kiss me in his car? I think so. Did I want him to? I think so.

And is Virginia the worst human being on the planet right now? It’s possible.

“He was pretty peeved,” I say. “After we got out he wouldn’t even look at her.” It was a relief, actually; if he’d been in on the whole thing, I’d have been beyond upset. But he was just as angry as Cohen and I were.

“Well, he’s not looking at her now, either,” Lydia says under her breath so no one else will hear. She looks casually at the table where Virginia, Jack, and Cohen all sit. “She’s just sulking. But Jack very definitely keeps looking at you.”

I risk a glance in Jack’s direction, and Lydia is right. Jack and Cohen have removed themselves from Virginia, and for once, she’s not forcing herself on them. In fact, she seems to have retreated into herself; she’s running her hands over her hair, sending little looks in their direction, and pushing her food around on her plate. She doesn’t look like the Virginia Cook I know. She just looks…sad. Sad and insecure. Interesting. Maybe I don’t know Virginia Cook as well as I think I do.

Lydia smiles at me. “See? This whole thing is paying off already!”

I smile back, trying to pinpoint why I feel slightly uncomfortable.

“Listen,” Lydia goes on. “You’re coming over tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding as I take a bite out of my sandwich. I realize that I still have more to say, but I embarrassingly have to wait until I’m done chewing, and Lydia just watches me expectantly the whole time. When I’ve swallowed, I say, “We’re doing reading comprehension tonight.”

Lydia waves that away. “Great. But what I really want to work on is flirting. I talked to Cohen, and he said you need some work interacting with men.”

I scowl in Cohen’s direction. Lydia must notice, because she says,

“Don’t blame him. I annoyed it out of him. How’s he doing, by the way? With all the tutoring stuff?”

I hesitate. I don’t know how much Cohen has told her, so I decide to keep it vague. “He’s doing well,” I say.

“You guys get along okay?” she says, cocking an eyebrow.

My face reddens as I definitely do not think about his face an inch away from mine. “Yeah, we get along great,” I say, nodding. I take a drink of my juice box—because I am five years old and juice is delicious—and look at Lydia. “Why do you ask?”

She eyes me, then shrugs. “No reason. Just wondering. So tonight after you guys do your school stuff, we’ll work on the basics of flirting. It’s not hard. It’s just a rhythm.”

“I am rhythmless,” I say. “And I need you to understand that the flirting thing will go very badly.”

“Oh, it will be fine,” Lydia says, her voice unconcerned. “Cohen and I will teach you everything you need to know.”

I nod, but I am thoroughly unconvinced. I just don’t want to vocalize my main concerns. I’m pretty sure Cohen being there will render me incapable of flirting. And can you even flirt on demand? Is that a thing? It will just be weird. My goal is to pretend like the car thing never happened—a therapist-approved coping mechanism, I’m sure—and move on. But I’m not sure that’s going to work. We haven’t spoken since, and I don’t know how things are going to be.

I look back to Cohen and Jack. Jack isn’t looking at me; he and Cohen have their heads together as they talk, and they look like nothing so much as gossiping little girls. I grin. Cohen is wearing a t-shirt that looks like something I’d wear, except on him it’s pleasantly fitted across his shoulders and chest. I would drown in it.

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