Leah on the Offbeat(4)

“Because of Martin?” Taylor asks.

“Let’s just sit over here,” I say, pressing my lips together. I mean, the stuff with Martin happened a long time ago, and maybe I should let it go. But I can’t. I honestly can’t. This kid literally outed Simon last year. Actually, he found out Simon was gay, blackmailed him, and then fucking outed him. I’ve barely said a word to him since, and neither has Nora. Or Bram. Or Abby.

I settle in next to Nora in a booth near the entrance, and Taylor scoots into the seat Simon was clearly saving for Bram. When the waitress shows up for a first round of orders, everyone but me orders waffles. All I want is a Coke.

“Are you on a diet?” Taylor asks.

“Excuse me?”

Seriously, who says that? First of all, I just ate twenty shit-tons of M&M’s. Second of all, shut the fuck up. I swear, people can’t wrap their minds around the concept of a fat girl who doesn’t diet. Is it that hard to believe I might actually like my body?

Nora nudges me and asks if I’m okay. Maybe I look kind of surly.

“Oh my God, are you sick?” asks Taylor.

“No.”

“I’m like super paranoid I’m going to catch something. I’ve been drinking so much tea, and I’m resting my voice whenever I’m not in rehearsal, obviously. Can you imagine if I lost my voice this week? I don’t even know what Ms. Albright would do.”

“Right.”

“Like, I’m in almost every song.” She does this weird, high-pitched laugh. I can’t tell if she’s nervous and pretending not to be, or the other way around.

“Maybe you should rest your voice,” I suggest.

I swear she’s more manageable when we’re rehearsing with the band. Also, I have really good isolation headphones.

Taylor opens her mouth to reply to me, but then Abby and the guys arrive all at once. Garrett scoots in beside me, and Bram slides next to Taylor, with Abby and Nick on the ends. And it’s funny, because Taylor’s been sitting here with her usual runway-in-Paris posture, but now she’s leaning so hard toward Nick, she’s practically sprawled over the table. “Hey, I hear you and Simon will be in Boston for spring break.”

Taylor. You’ve been mashed up against Simon’s body in a booth for twenty minutes. But, of course, you couldn’t ask that question until Nick got here.

“Yup,” Nick says. “We’re doing the last set of school visits—Tufts and BU first, and then Wesleyan, NYU, Haverford, and Swarthmore. So we’re flying into Boston, renting a car, and then flying out of Philly.”

“Road trip,” says Simon, leaning forward for a high five.

“With your moms,” says Abby.

I can’t even get my head around how much people are willing to spend on this stuff. There are the plane tickets, hotels, car rentals, everything—and they don’t even know if they’ve gotten into these schools yet. Not to mention the fact that Simon spent hundreds of dollars on application fees alone, even though he’s dead set on NYU. Which I’m sure has nothing to do with Bram’s early acceptance to Columbia.

“That is so awesome!” Taylor beams. “I’ll be in Cambridge, visiting Harvard. We should meet up!”

“Yeah, maybe,” Nick says. Simon almost chokes on his water.

“Abby, are you looking at the northeast, too?” Taylor asks.

“Nope.” Abby smiles. “I’m going to Georgia.”

“You’re not trying to be near Nick?”

“Can’t afford to be near Nick.”

Kind of weird to hear her say that out loud. Especially because I’m going to the exact same school for the exact same reason. The University of Georgia is the only place I applied. They accepted me months ago. I qualify for the Zell Miller Scholarship. It’s a done deal.

But I never know how to feel when I have a thing in common with Abby Suso. I especially don’t know how to feel about the fact that we’re going to the same school. I bet she’ll pretend she doesn’t know me.

So then Garrett gets going about Georgia Tech’s superiority to Georgia. I don’t even care, but I guess it’s good that Morgan’s not here. It’s funny—Morgan’s such a little social justice geek that you wouldn’t expect this, but she’s actually from one of those hardcore UGA families. All football, all the time. The whole house is decorated red and black, with bulldog faces on everything, and the Hirsches always tailgate before games. I’ll never understand the whole football scene. Like, no shade on football, but I’m kind of more focused on the school part of college.

I want to zone out, but Garrett keeps baiting me. “Okay, here’s one. Leah, what are the longest three years of a UGA student’s life?”

“I give up.”

“Her freshman year.”

“Haha.”

Garrett Laughlin. Every day.

Eventually, everyone starts talking about Bram and Garrett’s soccer game last weekend. Nick looks a little wistful, and I really do get it. It’s not that he’ll never play soccer again. He’ll be back on the field as soon as the play wraps up next week. But it sucks when life moves along without you. Sometimes I feel left out even when life’s moving along with me.

The waitress swings by again to take the second round of orders, and within twenty minutes, we’ve got a mountain of food. Simon’s gone off on a rant about the play, so I steal a piece of bacon from his plate when he’s distracted.