“Tell me about it,” Omar replied, although his attention was farther down the hall. “Hey! Ricky! Looking good, my man!”
Anthony turned around. The freshman Omar had been paired with was grinning, his backpack strapped ridiculously tight to his torso. He did look different somehow. The glasses, maybe? Were those new?
“Hi, Omar,” Ricky said when nearing. “Is it lunch break yet? I’m hungry. We might have to order a pizza.”
They both snickered, as if exchanging some secret joke. Anthony felt irritated for reasons he struggled to comprehend. Especially when Omar tilted his head toward the classroom and said, “Go on in. We’ll catch up inside.”
Ricky smiled and did as he was told.
Anthony raised an eyebrow. “What the hell was that about?”
“Nothing,” Omar said. “It was cooler hanging out with him than I expected, that’s all.”
“I bet,” Anthony said sarcastically. “Writing an article issuperfun.”
His best friend shrugged. “We didn’t spend much time on that.”
“But it’s due tomorrow!”
Omar made a face. “Thanks for reminding me, Mom.”
Anthony sighed, the tension leaving him. Nothing was moreridiculous than being jealous of a freshman. “Just make sure you get it done,” he said in lighter tones. “I’m not looking forward to repeating sophomore year, just because you didn’t pass.”
“You’d do that?” Omar asked.
“Absolutely,” Anthony said without hesitation. And he really would, even if it meant breaking into the principal’s office and changing his own grades to Fs.
“Hey, I need your help with something,” Omar said, digging in his backpack. “You know that girl I mentioned?”
Anthony shook his head. “Which one?”
Omar laughed. “Silvia Diaz. She works at the record store.”
“Oh. Right.”
Omar stopped his search long enough to shoot him a toothy grin. “I talked to her yesterday. I went by her work on the way to Ricky’s house. She’s so freaking pretty, man! I think we have serious potential. Anyway, I need you to listen to this.”
Omar thrust a cassette tape at him. On the front of it, a little girl stood near a flaming heart. Anthony was glad to have something to focus on, because once again, a strange sort of possessiveness stirred within him, and it wasn’t a good feeling.
“In you go, gentlemen,” Mr. Finnegan said on his way into the classroom. He only paused to take note of the cassette. “Is that something you plan on writing a review for, Anthony?”
“Maybe,” he answered.
They waited until the teacher had gone ahead before following. They went to Anthony’s desk, where Mindy was already seated. Omar winked at her. She glared in response.
“Can you listen to it before lunch?” Omar asked, turning his back to her.
“I can try,” Anthony said.
“Sweet!”
The bell rang then. Anthony sat and loaded the cassette into his Walkman, wondering why Omar needed an opinion from him so soon. He must be really into the music. Anthony unfolded the paper insert, which was covered in lyrics and a photo of the band. His attention lingered on a couple of the guys in particular before Mr. Finnegan began lecturing about different research methods, and which might help them the most. Anthony rolled his eyes at Mindy, who smiled in return. They had already finished their article, complete with annotated references.
Halfway through the period, Anthony risked putting in one of the earbuds. He listened to the first song with the volume down low and managed a handful more between classes, but some of the tracks were abnormally long. When he met Omar during their lunch break, the first thing he asked was if he’d heard it all yet. Anthony shook his head.
His best friend put on a pleading expression. “Can you finish listening while we eat?”
How could Anthony resist? It was a little weird being locked away behind his wall of sound while sitting with people he liked, but Omar kept pulling dumb faces to make him laugh. He’d stick his tongue out, make the sign of the horns, and bang his head. Or during one of the ballads, Omar rested a cheek on his steepled hands and batted his eyelashes, like he was an innocent child. So freaking weird. Anthony adored him for it.