“Earth to Zoey!” Alex shouted at me. “Hello!” I felt a French fry hit my head as I came back to reality.
“Sorry,” I said, wiping the salt off my forehead. I shook my head to get the cobwebs out. “I’m so tired. For like a week I’ve been having these really weird dreams that keep waking me up at night, but I can’t remember anything about them once I’m up. Maybe I was sleeping with my eyes open.”
“Really? Here? Were you lulled by the din of plastic trays hitting tables or was it the fragrant scent of food fried with oil that tastes like it’s from last year?” Alex asked, picking up another fry, but this time, directing it toward his mouth.
“How can you eat those things?” I wrinkled my nose at the plate of soggy fries in front of him.
“Easy. Like this.” He opened his mouth and popped another French fry into it. “Did you hear anything I said?” he asked, changing the subject, his arms folded and wearing that petulant look he got when I wasn’t paying enough attention to him.
I shook my head again. “No. Finish. Or start. Whatever. What’s up?” I said, reaching over to snatch a fry off his plate because, despite being greasy and disgusting, they still tasted good.
He rolled his eyes impatiently. “Well, as I was saying before you slipped into your coma, have you seen the new guys who started today? The twins? There was some paperwork mix-up so they couldn’t start last week with the rest of us. One of them is in my English class. And he is H.O.T. He’s mine. You can have the brother. Just think, one for each of us!” Alex held up a hand to high-five me, which I ignored.
The fact that I was totally unenthusiastic about this was not lost on Alex, but he was used to my cynical nature, as much as I was used to his positive thinking. He was always excited when new guys started at school, hoping he would finally find a boyfriend. But in the three years we’d been at Adams High School, it had yet to happen. He was still the only kid out of the closet. But the idea of either of us getting a date with anyone, individually, never mind as a pair, was about as likely as me stripping down naked and doing cartwheels in the middle of the cafeteria. I grimaced at the thought of it, especially given how bad my cartwheels were.
“How do you know so much about them already if they just started today?”
“Twitter.”
“All this from Twitter?”
“Yes. Maybe try getting on it and seeing for yourself. Oh, yeah, I forgot . . . you don’t ‘do’ social media because it’s destroying the way people communicate,” he said, air quoting the word “do.”
“Get over it. Besides, who’d follow me anyway? You and my mother? No thanks. I’d rather be seen as a disaffected, indie loner than a loser.” I didn’t want to defend my refusal to join Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or any other form of social media yet again. I was a private person. It’s not like I had a million friends anyway. I just didn’t see the point.
“O.M.G. Check it out. There they are,” Alex said in a loud whisper, tilting his head sideways toward the open double doors.
I didn’t have to ask who they were. I looked up and the sea of people pouring into the cafeteria parted as if Moses himself was standing there with his staff.
Despite being twins, they were not of the identical variety. One was tall, blond and lanky. He was built like a swimmer or a basketball player. His hair was perfectly messed up in just the right way and he had a brilliant smile that practically blinded me from across the room. He was gorgeous. Not just good-looking mind you, but, like, cover of People “Sexiest Man Alive,” grade A, movie star gorgeous. My eyes widened and I sat up in my seat a little straighter.
