Surviving High School

song.
    “This is going to be amazing,” said Kimi.
    “He hasn’t even asked me y—”
    Kimi shushed her.
    “Going. To. Be. Amazing.”
    On Sunday, Emily went to bed at her usual time. As she closed her eyes, she wondered if she’d see Ben the next day. It hadn’t been until she got home from his party that she’d realized she hadn’t given him her number or even an e-mail address.
    Of course, if Ben had really wanted to track her down, he could have found her on Facebook or asked around until he found a way to contact her. Did that mean he wasn’t really that interested? Maybe the moment they’d shared at the party had been just that: a moment, a tiny, magical parcel of time that was now over.
    Restless, she turned to look at the clock and read 10:42 . How could she possibly be having trouble sleeping when she was still exhausted from staying up so late on Friday? If anything, she should have gone to sleep hours ago to make up for it. Was worrying about a guy really enough to throw off the sleep schedule she’d carefully cultivated for almost three years?
    Stupid boys. Stupid Ben. Stupid her for caring. Stupid tapping sound at the window. How was she supposed to sleep with that—
    Stupid tapping sound at the window?
    She rolled out of bed, walked quietly over to the window, and raised the blind to reveal a figure in a dark hoodie. She almost screamed before she looked down at the figure’s arms and realized what he was carrying: her dress from Friday.
    “Ben?” she asked, opening her window.
    He removed his hoodie, which upon closer examination read GO LIZARDS! , and stepped inside.
    “What are you, a ninja now?” she asked as he handed her the dress.
    “A ninja who delivers dry cleaning,” he said. “Actually, ninja is kind of an exaggeration. The tree outside your window is pretty easy to climb.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    He looked down at the dress and asked, “Isn’t it obvious?” as he handed it to her.
    “Well, thanks,” she said. “But you could have just given it to me at school.”
    “I figured this would be a good excuse to come see you. Maybe we could go get some coffee or something.”
    “Right now? I’m about to go to sleep.”
    “Thus the coffee. It’ll wake you up.”
    “You’re serious?” she asked.
    “I’m always serious.”
    “No, you’re not.”
    “Well, I am this time.”
    Emily thought about tomorrow. She had an Honors History test and a brutal private swim practice scheduled, and her dad had been watching her suspiciously ever since thatjog on Saturday, despite the fact that she’d finished only fifteen seconds over her usual time.
    Her arguments for telling him to leave weighed like bags full of iron on one side of a scale. On the other side, though, was Ben. Ben, who had driven all the way across town to return her dress. Who looked especially cute in his school hoodie.
    “You’re going to have to go outside,” she said, and his face fell. Then she smiled and added, “So I can get changed.”
    Twenty minutes later, Ben and Emily walked into Hallowed Grounds, a twenty-four-hour coffee-and-doughnut shop that Emily had jogged by several dozen times but never imagined she’d go inside. Coffee stunted your growth. Doughnuts were empty calories. Neither fit into the system Emily’s father had created for her. But then again, neither did Ben Kale.
    “Okay, since you’re a coffee rookie, I’m recommending we start you off with a mocha—and lots of milk,” said Ben, as he ordered for them. “I’ll be sticking with my usual triple espresso.”
    A few minutes later, the barista handed Emily a steaming mug and she tried her first sip of coffee. Ben looked at her expectantly.
    “What do you think?”
    She grimaced. “It’s like poisoned hot chocolate.”
    “It’s an acquired taste.”
    They took their cups to the back of the shop and sat in old red-velvet-covered armchairs whose fabric was worn fromyears of use. As bad as the coffee tasted, Emily had to admit that she loved the smell, and after a few sips she learned to ignore the bitterness and concentrate on the chocolate.
    “So,” Ben said, “here we are. Out past your bedtime on a school night.”
    “Heh,” she said, looking down at her cup. “Yeah.”
    Ben sipped his drink. It was the first time since she’d met him that she’d felt a lull in their usual banter. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, though. If anything, it felt kind of nice.
    “You’re kind of always— on ,