Page 4 of It's in the Contract
“You never know.” The thought cheers me up.
We pass a boy with red hair sticking out of a Seattle Seahawks beanie. He kicks the vending machine repeatedly, grunting. “C’mon!” The crowd flows around him, and his problem is ignored.
“Hang on, Suze.” I walk over to the boy.
“UGH!”
The boy is shorter than me, and the glasses on his face slide down his nose every time he kicks the vending machine. I think his name is Tyler?
“Trying to get chili cheese Fritos?” I ask. The Fritos in question are stuck, tacked on the end of the metal hoop thingy, and they aren’t budging. Suzy stands next to me, arms crossed.
Tyler does a double take when he sees who he’s talking to. “Callie Carter. Umm. Wow.”
“Here, no worries.” I pull out a few ones from my wallet, smooth them out on the edge of the machine, then feed them in and tap the buttons for another chili cheese Fritos bag. Tyler’s chips pop out in addition to mine. “Did we have advanced algebra together last year? You answered every one of Mr. Adler’s questions right whenever he called on you, if I remember correctly.”
“Wow! Umm, yes we did.” He grabs his chips and turns to me with shining eyes. “Thank you!” Tyler hurries away, and I retrieve my bag of Fritos out of the vending machine.
“Want these?” I ask Suzy, who is leaning against the wall, raising an eyebrow.
“You don’t even like those.”
I shrug.
Suzy stuffs the Fritos into her bag and, finally, we enter the cafeteria. It’s packed with students gathered around round tables. I can barely hear the school’s news playing on TVs mounted to the walls, the chatter is so loud. Big glass windows look out to the school’s backyard, where there’s a patio area with even more students devouring their lunches, and beyond that are the bleachers and football field. My nose is hit with smells of tomatoey marinara and something else—a first day of school perfume of nervous people sweating in their new clothes.
Suzy and I grab trays of spaghetti and meatballs and take seats at a table next to Dana McMechan, a perky girl who movedin next to Suzy last year and immediately became a part of our friend group. Sitting next to her is Kayla Ortman, a girl with a poof of curly brown hair cut barely longer than her ears. Her bangs are held out of her face by two sparkly green clips. I barely know her, but she joined Suzy’s tennis team last year and they became friends.
Dana scoots over on the bench when she sees us. “Took you two long enough to get here.” She runs her fingers through her hair, which is blonde with red streaks at the moment. Dana is wearing a neon pink-and-green checkered t-shirt and skinny jeans with artsy ripped knees. If Dana was a dessert, she’d be a Funfetti cake.
“I like your hair that way, Dana,” I say.
“Thanks.” Her cheeks turn pink enough to match her shirt. “I did it myself.”
“It looks great. Super professional.” I sit down beside her and set my tray on the table, and Suzy takes a seat next to me. I glance around the lunchroom for Noah, but no sign of him yet.
Kayla gives me a smile that looks more like a smirk. “I hear you and Noah are having some trouble.”
I freeze my fork mid spaghetti twirl. “Where did you hear that? It’s not true.”
Dana looks from Kayla to me.
Kayla lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Fine. No need to get all defensive. Mi dispiace.”
“What was that?” Suzy asks. She takes a huge bite of pasta.
Kayla smiles, and her blue eyes get even bigger. “It means ‘I’m sorry’ in Italian, don’t you know? I picked up some of the language spending the summer in Sicily with my parents.”
“You vacationed with your parents all summer?” I ask.
“Yes!” Kayla looks offended. “Didn’t you miss me?”
“Uh, I?—”
Troy saves me from having to respond by taking his place at our table right next to Dana, wearing his backwards baseball cap that the teachers are always yelling at him to remove during class. “What’s up, my ladies?” He slings an arm casually around Dana’s shoulders, and she blushes and looks down with a tiny smile on her face. “How was everyone’s summer, y’all?”
“Great!” Kayla trills. “Let me tell you all about my vacation?—"
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn, and there’s Noah. I swear my heart literally stops, he is that gorgeous. His hair is perfectly styled, swooping off to one side, and it’s such a rich brown that it almost looks maroon in the bright cafeteria lights. He’s wearing his green and white football jacket even though the day is slightly too warm for it, and he carries a tray with three slices of pizza in one hand and a can of coke in the other.
