Cold Kiss

catching up in my classes that it’s lunchtime before I know it. The instinct to go hide in the library is pretty strong, but I can’t do that. If I’m going to make things right with Jess and Darcia, I have to actually talk to them.
    I’m not expecting Jess to be waiting outside the cafeteria doors, though. I choke back a flicker of startled power that threatens to explode out of me, and only clutch my books tighter to my chest as I walk up to her.
    “I tried calling. And texting.”
    She flips her hair over her shoulder, all casual and cool, but she’s not actually looking me in the eye. “Yeah, well. So did I. On Friday.”
    I hate this. I’ve known Jess since I was eight, and I don’t want to lose her. I don’t think I realized until recently how close I’ve come.
    “I can only say I’m sorry, Jess.” I take a step closer. “And I am. I can’t … I can’t really explain what happened, but the thing is, I can’t really be sorry about that part. I want us to be friends, I always want us to be friends, but we’re not kids anymore. Some stuff is going to be private. And … I guess I want you to respect that, even if I don’t deserve it.”
    I’m nearly breathless, because it all comes out in a rush, but at least I said it. Someone jostles me as they push by in the crowd entering the cafeteria, but I don’t move. I’m watching Jess, and I’m not going anywhere until she says something.
    As long as she doesn’t simply walk away.
    Her expression shifts, as fluid as running water, but she finally meets my gaze. “How are secrets okay if we’re friends?”
    My chin goes up, just an inch. I hate being shorter than anyone but fourth graders. “Are you really standing there telling me I know everything about you? Seriously?”
    She bites her lip then, but she doesn’t lie. It’s a start.
    “Look, Danny dying … it fucked me up, okay? I get that. But I’m trying. And I just want there to be room to keep some things private, and not be, well, judged.” My heart is still pounding, but I’ve gotten this far and I’m not turning back. “I love you, Jess, but we’re not always going to want the same things. Or feel the same things. We’re just not.”
    “I don’t judge you!”
    I tilt my head. “Jess.”
    “Oh, like you don’t do the same thing.” She’s angry again, but she’s still not leaving, and part of me wants to grab her arm and hang on until I know she understands.
    “When you make out with Eli Harbeck ten minutes after dissing band geeks, what do you think I’m going to do? I’m pretty sure he, like, takes his clarinet to bed at night.”
    She colors hotly, but I think she’s trying not to smile, because her mouth is twitching like a rabbit’s nose. Finally she straightens up and says, “So you’re really not going to tell me what happened on Friday?”
    I shrug. “Yeah, no.”
    “But you’re okay?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer, and adds, “And you weren’t, like, just making up that you wanted us to spend the night? I mean, if you’re not into hanging out, you should really just say so, because you never used to be mean, Wren, and Dar was really—”
    “Jess.” I touch her shoulder, because somewhere in there her eyes started darting down the hallway, through the big windows that overlook the courtyard, at a point past my right shoulder. “No. I totally wanted it. And I still do. This Friday, okay? For real. I can guarantee that nothing will happen this time, I promise.”
    She considers this silently, chewing on her lip the way she used to chew on her fingernails before her mother starting putting some nasty no-biting stuff on them.
    “I’m still so mad, you know?” She shakes her head. “I mean, I won’t be forever, but I don’t think I’m ready to stop yet?”
    I can’t help laughing a little at that. It’s so Jess. And me, too, if I’m honest. “I get it. I’ll wait.”
    Darcia nearly cries in World Lit after we talk, which is a little alarming, but she hugs me, too, a crushing bear hug that doesn’t seem possible from a girl as reedy as she is. By the time school is over, I’m exhausted.
    I’m twirling the dial on my locker when someone taps my shoulder, and I turn around to find Gabriel standing there, tall and stiff and beautiful. His face is as stony as Danny’s, and I resist the urge to close my eyes so I don’t have to see it.
    “I want you to listen to me,” he says, and he’s not even trying to keep this between