You Look Different in Real Life

sick of myself.
    This is where I get a stomach cramp, and in a sense, I feel like I’ve been waiting for it all day. It grows more intense; it’s going to be a Mega. I send all the painful energy into my toes and curl them inside my sneakers where nobody can see—another trick I’ve developed over the years. But soon, this can’t contain the ow . I clench a fist, then two, and bite my lip.
    Leslie’s noticed; her frown line is creased deeper and darker. Before I can think about it, I’m raising my hand for a bathroom pass.
    Pass granted, I don’t look at the crew as I leave the room and step into the blissful solitude of the hallway, where I can really breathe now. They won’t follow me right away.They’ll assume I’ll be back in a few minutes. But I could use more than a few, and suddenly I don’t care if I have to steal them. I can always make up an excuse later.
    I head directly for the stairs to the east wing, at the end of which is the gym and the locker rooms. The girls’ locker room will be deserted this period, and since it’s got a bathroom, my pass might keep me covered if anyone questions what I’m doing there. I’ve done it before.
    Once inside the locker room, in the quiet half-dark that feels like a secret, I sit on a bench and breathe through the cramp as it loosens its hold, then goes away completely. Some time passes. My cell phone chimes with text messages from Leslie, wondering where the hell I am. The final bell rings and there’s the rumble of mass exodus, people getting out of school as fast as humanly possible. When all sounds calm again, it feels safe to leave. I know I should let the crew know where I am, but I just can’t yet.
    I’m in the hallway for all of four seconds when I hear my name echo against the walls.
    “Justine!”
    I freeze. There’s a silhouette moving out of the shadows.
    “Justine,” the figure says again, more softly. It’s starting to look like Ian. I find myself actually happy to see him after my long, long night and day.
    “Isn’t this like a scene from a zombie movie?” I say, putting the grin in my voice. Maybe this is what he wastalking about when he said I felt more like a buddy to him, but I can’t help it.
    Now he’s almost reached me and I notice he’s wearing gardening gloves. He stretches out his hands, curling them into giant claws, and changes his walk to an Undead march.
    “Rawrrrr . . .” he growls.
    Yeah, he’s adorable. And he smells like damp earth.
    “What’s up?” I say fake-casually. “I mean, before you kill me or eat me or whatever, we should exchange pleasantries.”
    He releases his claws and looks suddenly embarrassed. “I’m trying to get to all the classroom wastebaskets before the custodians do. Long story that involves recyclable plastic containers and a science fair project.”
    So, not earth. Just plain old garbage, but garbage never smelled so good. I get a sharp body pang from missing him.
    “Well, I would say that’s weird, but remember, I know you.”
    Ian laughs. Score! “Where are you headed?” he asks.
    “Just outside to wait for my mom.” If I’m lucky, he won’t notice that I don’t have my bag, or anything else that would make me look ready to be picked up from school.
    “I’m headed that way too,” he says, pointing his head sideways as if to say, lazily, after you.
    My phone chimes again. I ignore it.
    “How’s the filming going?” Ian asks brightly as we walk.
    “It’s going. That’s all I know for sure right now.”
    “I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you, but I think your hair looks great,” he says.
    Something inside me takes off in flight. “Thanks,” I say, and then swallow hard.
    “I hear you made a secret appearance at Felix’s party that night,” says Ian.
    “Yeah, well . . . I didn’t plan it to be secret, I just . . . it was a lot harder to be there than I expected.”
    Ian nods thoughtfully. When we reach the door, he holds it open for me. It’s a gesture so simple, so normal, but thrilling. The first time he did that, on our first date, I knew we were really going out.
    Outside, the air feels warmer than expected. Ian takes off his gloves and stuffs them in his back pockets. He squints into the late afternoon sun, hanging over the ridge in the distance, and takes a deep breath.
    “I have to tell you, I kind of miss hanging out,” he says. “I miss our friendship.”
    Another body pang. Oh, you mean the friendship that you declared we should