The Boy on the Bridge

I guess that’s true. Looking over at him and meeting his gaze, I say, “I guess I’ll give it a shot, just like you’re giving reading a shot, but if I hate it…”

“Then I’ll just hang out with you, anyway. I’ll tell anyone who side eyes you for your bad fashion sense that you’re an alien who only recently arrived on our planet,” he promises.

I crack a smile, looking away from him and down at my lap. I’m still not so sure about going to the mall with his friends, but I can’t help replaying that other part of what he said in my head, memorizing every note like it’s my favorite song.

He said he likes me. Maybe he doesn’t mean he like likes me, but… maybe he does.

___

Deciding to go hang out with Hunter and his friends is one thing. Convincing my mom to let me go is a whole other thing. I don’t know why she’s so weird about him, but as soon as that backpack showed up she freaked out about him and he’s been a touchy subject ever since. She has tried to bring him up and ask me about him a couple times, but it was so tense and awkward, I didn’t want to talk.

I’m not going to lie to my mom, but from the time Hunter invites me to the moment Mom grabs two dinner plates and hands one to me, I am brainstorming ways to soften it. I think I’ve finally got a solid angle, so as we sit down at the dinner table, I take my shot.

“So, you know how Sara is crazy about Wally Kazinsky?”

Mom smiles as she pushes some canned corn and mashed potatoes together with her fork. “Yeah.”

I feel like I’m being sneaky, so my heart beats a little faster. “Today at recess she was convinced he was looking at us—I mean, at her, not us. He doesn’t care about me, obviously. I mean, not that he cares about her, either—at least, I don’t think he does.”

Oh crap. As I lose control of my mouth, Mom begins to frown in mild confusion.

I attempt to get myself back under control. It all sounded so perfect in my head, I just have to get back on track. “So, Wally’s friends with Hunter.”

As soon as I say Hunter’s name, Mom tenses, but she attempts a smile and gives me an encouraging nod like just hearing his name doesn’t set her on edge. It clearly does, though, and that makes me even more nervous.

“I told him how Sara would love the chance to actually hang out with Wally. I mean, I didn’t tell Hunter she has a crush on him. Not that he would tell Wally, either way. I just… Hunter invited me—us—he invited us to come to the mall with him and some of his friends this weekend. Wally will be there, and Hunter said I could bring Sara, and then she’ll finally get a chance to hang out with him. I wasn’t sure at first, but can you imagine how excited Sara will be?”

Mom avoids my gaze, carefully setting her fork down. “He asked you to go to the mall with him this weekend, and after you said no, he added the incentive that if you come, he’ll hook your best friend up with the boy she has a crush on?”

I hesitate. I almost say yes, but the way she words it, it sounds like a trick. “No. I mean, kinda, but that sounds…”

“Manipulative?” she suggests.

“It wasn’t like that. He just said I could bring Sara to be nice. I think I explained it badly.” I frown to myself, going back over my conversation with Hunter. It didn’t go exactly like that. He invited me out to buy me a new look that will impress his friends—which I definitely can’t tell her—and when I wasn’t so sure, he reminded me that he read the book for me…

Nope, that won’t help. Can’t tell her that. He didn’t even make it to bribing me with Sara until after that when he could tell I still wasn’t excited about the idea. By the time he finished adding to the package, I was pretty excited, but it all happened so casually. It was a friendly exchange, not a cold transaction like Mom is making it sound.

“He’s not a bad guy,” I finally tell her, getting right to the point.

“Honey, I’m not saying he is. I just… sometimes you have to be careful about trusting boys. They don’t always have the motives you think they have. And this boy, he started showing interest in you all of a sudden, pretty out of the blue, right? And he’s coming on a little strong.”

“He’s not coming on strong,” I argue. “He hasn’t even talked to me in days, I thought he didn’t like me anymore or something, but—but he does, and he wants me to hang out with his friends this weekend at the mall, and I want to go.”