Walking Disaster

anger.
    “What is that?” She stared at my tray.
    I looked down at the steaming concoction. She was making random conversation. Yet another good sign. “The cafeteria ladies scare me. I’m not about to critique their cooking
skills.”
    Abby watched me poke around with my fork for something edible, and then seemed distracted by the murmurings of those around us. Granted, it was new for my fellow students to see me make a fuss
over sitting across from someone. I still wasn’t sure why I did.
    “
Ugh . . .
that bio test is after lunch.” America groaned.
    “Did you study?” Abby asked.
    America’s nose wrinkled. “God, no. I spent the night reassuring my boyfriend that you weren’t going to sleep with Travis.”
    Shepley immediately became sullen at the mention of the previous night’s conversation.
    The football players seated at the end of our table quieted down to hear our conversation, and Abby sunk down into her seat, shooting a glare at America.
    She was embarrassed. For whatever reason, she was mortified by any attention whatsoever.
    America ignored Abby and nudged Shepley with her shoulder, but Shepley’s frown didn’t fade.
    “Jesus, Shep. You’ve got it that bad, huh?” I threw a packet of ketchup at him, trying to lighten the mood. The surrounding students turned their attention to Shepley and
America then, hoping for something to talk about.
    Shepley didn’t answer, but Abby’s gray eyes peeked up at me over a small smile. I was on a roll today. She couldn’t hate me if she tried. I don’t know why I was so
worried. It wasn’t like I wanted to date her or anything. She just seemed like the perfect platonic experiment. She was basically a good girl—albeit slightly angry—and
didn’t need me fucking up her five-year plan. If she had one.
    America rubbed Shepley’s back. “He’s going to be okay. It’s just going to take him a while to believe Abby is resistant to your charms.”
    “I haven’t
tried
to charm her,” I said. I was just getting ahead, and America was sinking my battleship. “She’s my friend.”
    Abby looked to Shepley. “I told you. You have nothing to worry about.”
    Shepley met Abby’s eyes, and then his expression smoothed. Crisis averted. Abby saved the day.
    I waited for a minute, trying to think of something to say. I wanted to ask Abby to come over later, but it would be lame after America’s comment. A brilliant idea popped into my head, and
I didn’t hesitate. “Did
you
study?”
    Abby frowned. “No amount of studying is going to help me with biology. It’s just not something I can wrap my head around.”
    I stood, nodding toward the door. “C’mon.”
    “What?”
    “Let’s go get your notes. I’m going to help you study.”
    “Travis . . .”
    “Get your ass up, Pidge. You’re gonna ace that test.”
    The next three seconds might have been the longest of my life. Abby finally stood. She passed America and tugged on her hair. “See you in class, Mare.”
    She smiled. “I’ll save you a seat. I’ll need all the help I can get.”
    I held the door open for her as we left the cafeteria, but she didn’t seem to notice. Again, I was only horrifically disappointed.
    Shoving my hands in my pockets, I kept pace with her during the short walk to Morgan Hall, and then I watched as she fidgeted with her door key.
    Abby finally pushed the door open, and then tossed her biology book onto the bed. She sat down and crossed her legs, and I fell onto the mattress, noting how stiff and uncomfortable it was. No
wonder all the girls at this school were cranky. They couldn’t possibly get a good night’s rest on these damn mattresses. Jesus.
    Abby turned to the correct page of her textbook, and I went to work. We went over the key points of the chapter. It was kind of cool how she watched me while I talked. Almost like she was both
hanging on to every word, and amazed that I knew how to read. A few times I could tell by her expression that she didn’t understand, so I’d go back over it, and then her eyes would
brighten. I started working hard for the lights-on look on her face after that.
    Before I knew it, it was time for her to go to class. I sighed, and then smacked her playfully on the head with her study guide.
    “You got this. You know this study guide backward and forward.”
    “Well . . . we’ll see.”
    “I’m going to walk you to class. I’ll quiz you on the way.” I waited for a polite rejection, but she offered a