Love, Louis

13

IT'S THURSDAY, AND I'M IN history class, and apparently Ms. Dillinger just asked me a question, because everyone is looking at me like I owe them something. So now I'm blushing and trying to bullshit my way through it, and judging by her twisty, teacherly frown, I don't think it's going very well.

I mean, when you think about it, it's a little fucked up that teachers think they get to dictate what you think about. It's not enough if you just sit there quietly and let them teach. It's like they think they have a right to control your mind.

I don't want to think about the War of 1812. I don't want to know what the hell was so impressive to a bunch of freaking sailors.

What I want is to sit here and think about Blue. I think I'm starting to get a little obsessed with him. On one hand, he's so careful all the time about not giving me details about himself-and then he turns around and tells me all kinds of personal stuff, and it's the kind of stuff that I could totally use to figure out his identity if I really wanted to. And I do want to. But I also don't. It's just so totally confusing. He's confusing.

"Louis!" Gigi taps me frantically from behind. "I need a pen."

I hand one back to her, and she thanks me under her breath. I look around and realize that everyone is writing. Ms. Dillinger has written a website address down on the board. I don't know what the heck it's for, but I guess I'll find out when I get around to looking it up. I copy the address into the margin of my notes, and then outline it in zigzags like a comic book POW!

Ms. Dillinger gives us a break, but it's not the kind of break where you can go anywhere, so I just sit and stare into space. Gigi comes over and kneels and rests her chin on my desk. "Hey. Where are you today?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're like a million miles away."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Simon climbing over someone's chair to join us. Every time. I swear to God.

"What's up, guys?"

"Haha," says Gigi. "Your shirt is hilarious." Simon is wearing a T-shirt that says "Talk nerdy to me."

"Are you guys going to rehearsal today?"

"Oh, it's optional now?" I ask. And then I do this thing I picked up from Liam, where you kind of cut your eyes to the side and narrow them. It's more subtle than rolling your eyes. Much more effective.

Simon just looks at me.

"Yeah, we're going," Gigi says, after a moment.

"Yeah. Tommo," Simon says suddenly, "I've been meaning to talk to you." His cheeks have gone pink, and a red blotch unfurls around the collar of his T-shirt. "I've been thinking. I really want to introduce you to my brother. I think you guys have a lot in common."

Blood rushes to my face, and I feel that familiar fucking prickle behind my eyes. He's threatening me again.

"That's so cute," Gigi says. She looks back and forth from Simon to me.

"Oh, it's adorable," I say. I stare Simon down, but he turns away quickly, looking miserable. Seriously? That asshole deserves to feel miserable.

"Yeah, well." Simon shuffles his feet, still staring at this random point over my shoulder. "I'm just going to . . ."

I'm just going to talk about your sexual orientation now like it's my business, Simon. I'm just going to tell the whole goddamned school right here, right now, because I'm an asshole, and that's just how it's going to go down.

"Hey, wait," I say. "This is random, but I was just thinking. Do you guys want to go to Waffle House tomorrow, after school? I could quiz you on your lines."