A Beautiful Dark

course, Asher showed up to third-period history. He said and did nothing, but his mere presence at the back of the classroom prevented me from absorbing any of the important dates of World War I. And in fourth-period chemistry, I got so distracted by not paying attention to Devin at the next lab table that I let my glucose solution bubble over the top of my test tube and spill all over the place.
    By lunchtime, if you’d asked me to recount the event that started World War I or balance the equation for the solution that I’d spilled in chem, I’d have had no clue what you were talking about. These distractions were going to have to stop.
    I spotted Dan at our usual table, a slice of pizza just visible under a Jenga tower of French fries on his plate. I hurried through the lunch line—grabbing along the way a plastic-wrapped turkey sandwich and an apple—and weaved through a maze of tables to get to him. When I dropped into the seat across from him, I felt like I pulled the weight of the world down with me.
    “Whoa,” he said through a mouthful of fry. “You okay?”
    “Just tired,” I said. “I guess I still haven’t recovered from the weekend.”
    “Still, best party ever.” Dan swallowed and grinned.
    “Best party ever,” I agreed. “It really rocked. ”
    “Well, sometimes it’s nice to just shake things up. ” He laughed his slow, raspy laugh, dipping a French fry into a blob of ketchup. “The boiler exploding? Definitely not a part of the surprise, by the way.”
    Cassie came over with her tray of juice and organic veggies—Northwood is top-ranked in a national survey of high school cafeteria food—and scootched in next to Dan, scrunching her nose at his French fry tower. She unpacked her lunch tray slowly, fully aware that we were watching her. With dramatic flair, she unscrewed the cap of her Odwalla juice, took a bite of steamed butternut squash, and looked up at us.
    “Skye has a crush,” she announced.
    “What? I do not!” I cried. “What are you even talking about?”
    “Please, do you think I’m an amateur? This is what I do , Skye. This is what I live for. Besides, I’ve been your friend for how long? You don’t think I’d recognize the signs?”
    Dan shot me a wry grin. “Do you need me to ask who it is, or is Cassie about to tell us that anyway?”
    “I do not have a crush!”
    Ian slid into the chair beside me. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”
    “Apparently Skye has a crush,” Dan informed him.
    Ian brightened slightly. “Oh, yeah? Anyone I know?”
    “The guys from the Bean,” Cassie said. “The ones who were fighting.”
    “What?” I scoffed, trying not to notice how Ian suddenly looked deflated. “You’ve totally lost your powers of observation.”
    Cassie took a sip of juice and cleared her throat. “Prepare to be proven wrong. Clue number one: You were late for homeroom. You’re never late for homeroom. Clue number two: Your arrival to homeroom happened to coincide with the arrival of two hot new guys—who you apparently rescued. Saving them from the horrific fate of being lost and having to wander these halls for all eternity.”
    “It was only Asher. Devin found his own way. Besides, Asher wasn’t lost. He just asked where the room was.”
    “And you volunteered to be tour guide? Perhaps allowing for a little chitchat along the way, your little heart fluttering like a butterfly—”
    “Cassie, I will shove this French fry in your ear—”
    “Clue number three: You’re getting flustered and defensive. This is really a textbook case. But let’s press on, shall we? Clue number four: You couldn’t stop turning around to look behind you, though you tried to make it look like you weren’t by rooting around in your backpack—”
    “But I—”
    “Shh. This brings us to the final and most important clue: You haven’t touched your lunch.”
    I looked down at my tray—it was true. I hadn’t even taken the turkey sandwich out of its cellophane wrapping. Warmth crept up my neck and bloomed across my face in what I could only imagine was a completely incriminating blush.
    “Ah!” Cassie cried, pointing her index finger at my face. “Witness the defendant’s telling facial color! Skye never eats when she’s nervous. Sensitive stomach. And why should she be nervous,” Cassie said, slamming her hand on the table as if she was auditioning for Law & Order , “if she doesn’t have a crush?”
    Ian studied me as though he didn’t know who I was