Rites of Spring (Break)

Does P-Jamie... like me?" Malcolm blinked. This was clearly not the kind of dirt he'd been expecting. "I mean,like me, like me." I clarified quickly. "What are you? Twelve?" he asked, incredulous. "You aren't supposed to make fun of me!" I scolded. "You never said you were going to act like a teenybopper. That's a special circumstance. Any judge would agree." "Fine." I started to rise. "Like I said, forget I asked." "Wait, Amy. Sit down," he said with a sigh. Malcolm was leaning his fits against the wood, staring down at his knuckles. I sat. "What?" He didn't look up. "This is all just between us, right?" "Yeah." "I wouldn't say he likes you." "Oh." Oh. Of course not. How stupid of me. How ridiculous, really- "He's pretty much in love with you.

I can't pretend this isn't important. I can't act like it doesn't exist. It's ironic, but true. There are a lot of things I'm really good at keeping secret. But I've learned I'm not too good at that with you. I can't pull it off. I don't want to just hook up. I don't want a secret relationship." "Well, that's a relief," I said, grabbing for both of his hands and holding on for dear life. Doubt started giving way to recognition, but he needed to hear it. "Why's that?" "Because I'm really sick of secrets.

[Poe] started to turn away, the stopped, smiled a little, ducked his head, and reached into his back pocket. "Amy, here." He tossed me a small package. "Just in case." I looked down at my hand. Life savers.

Poe was standing on the border of the clearing, acting most peculiarly. He took a few steps toward the cabin, the paused, shook his head, and marched back out. He repeated the move a few times before stomping off for good. I stood at the window, confused as hell. Why in the wild... and then it hit me, way, way harder than the water when I'd fallen off the boat. Poe liked me.

P—Jamie!” I called. He waded back toward me. “I’m starting to think my name is Pajamie.” “Your name should be Pajerky. You said it wasn’t deep.” “Pajerky?” He gave me a skeptical look. “That’s Pathetic.” “We’ll see how smug you are once I’m on dry land.

One never notices how nice it is to be worshipped until one has fallen from grace,

Brandon was a natural at whatever he put his mind to. It was one of the things that made him so attractive. That and his complete lack of pretense. He was brilliant, but didn't brag, popular, but not cliquish, comfortable in his skin, and utterly forthright about his needs and desires.

I have a question for you, but it’s kind of...um, personal.” “Yes, I’m gay.” “You really are a fan of saying that, aren’t you?” “Once you start, you just can’t stop.

Do you...want to grab a slice of pizza or something?” I blurted out. He hesitated. “You want to be seen in public with...” a microsecond pause, “...your face looking like that?” I cocked my head to the side. “The real question is, do you want to be seen in public with a face like this?” “I’d consider it.” He stood, his expression still wary.

I hadn’t gone to Andover, or Horace Mann or Eton. My high school had been the average kind, and I’d been the best student there. Such was not the case at Eli. Here, I was surrounded by geniuses. I’d figured out early in my college career that there were people like Jenny and Brandon and Lydia and Josh—truly brilliant, truly luminous, whose names would appear in history books that my children and grandchildren would read, and there were people like George and Odile—who through beauty and charm and personality would make the cult of celebrity their own. And then there were people like me. People who, through the arbitrary wisdom of the admissions office, might share space with the big shots for four years, might be their friends, their confidantes, their associates, their lovers—but would live a life well below the global radar. I knew it, and over the years, I’d come to accept it. And I understood that it didn’t make them any better than me.

But right then, one room away, there were people in love, and I’d never felt so alone in my life.

Why was he here? Why was he always, always, always around? Didn’t he have a life? Didn’t he have anything better to do?

So, fill me in, what’s been going on here?” “All kinds of scandal,” Clarissa said. “Amy almost drowned, Demetria is going to beat up a patriarch’s wife, our room was trashed by conspiracy theorists, Dragon’s Head broke into the tomb in Connecticut, and Jenny has a crush on Harun.” “Do not!” Jenny said. “In other words,” said Demetria. “The usual.” Odile laughed. “Man, I love this society.

I really wish your boyfriend would stay out of my love life.” “Funny. I bet Felicity wishes her boyfriend would stay out of it, too.