“Sociology and Food and Nutrition.”
“Sociology,” he shudders, “no thanks. But Food and Nutrition is awesome. I took it last year. We made pancakes.”
“I’ll probably burn the school down. I’m not the most skilled when it comes to the kitchen.”
He laughs, rubbing his finger on the edge of his drawing to smudge some of the pencil into the page. “I would pay to see that.”
“Don’t worry it’ll be a free show.” I offer my bag of chips to Ansel and he looks up, shaking his head.
“I’m more of a sour cream and onion guy.”
I pretend to gasp. “That’s tragic. This friendship will never work.”
He arches a brow. “So, are we friends now?”
The bell rings.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
Mr. Taylor waits outside his door for me.
I tilt my head, giving him a quizzical look.
“I thought we’d go to the meeting room again, until I can work something else out.”
“Work something else out?” I repeat his words, puzzling them over. “If it’s a problem I’ll…” I close my eyes, taking a grounding breath. “I’ll be fine.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. This isn’t a big deal at all.”
I feel like he’s lying. Or maybe that’s the guilt nibbling at the back of my mind that I should be fine in a room with no alternate escape route.
We head down the hall in silence, through the office, and to the same room as yesterday, taking the same exact seats.
He still doesn’t have a notebook.
It’s not that I doubted him yesterday, but … I guess I did.
I’m so used to these people trying to fix me as if I’m a broken toy that only needs some new batteries to work again—pop them in and I’ll start right up—that I’m not accustomed to someone wanting to listen.
“How was your lunch?”
Conversation. I can do conversation.
“It was good. I tried the chicken salad sandwich. You were right. It was yummy.”
He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His eyes are the most unique color of blue-green ringed in gold. I
’ve never seen eyes similar to them. Like a Caribbean sea dotted with islands.
“How’s your second day going?”
I laugh softly. “I think you know how well it’s going.”
His lips downturn as he recalls finding me in the hallway. “Regardless, you need to stay in class.”
“I need to do a lot of things,” I mumble.
“Like what?”