Джей Эшер - The Future of Us

“You know that cute guy I told you about in my physics class?” Kellan asks. “I ran into him downtown yesterday. Seriously, Emma, you’ve got to take biology with me there. You won’t believe the guys at Hemlock. They’re men .”

“So you’re saying I should take college bio for the guys?”

Kellan shakes her head. “You should take college biology because you’re smart and there aren’t enough women working in science. But you and I can help change that. The guys are the icing on the cake.”

“Maybe,” I say, but I’m more concerned with what Kellan said about time travel. If it was definitely not possible, she would have told me. But that’s not what she said.

“Besides improving the gender ratio in science,” Kellan says, “I want you to fall in love before we graduate. That’s a personal goal of mine.”

“You know how I feel about love,” I say. “It was invented to sell wedding cakes. And vacations to Waikiki.”

“My parents have been in love for nineteen years,” Kellan says. “And look at Tyson and me. We were probably the two most—”

“He broke your heart! How can you call it love when he hurt you so badly?”

Kellan pops another fry into her mouth. “It was love because it was worth it.”

I’M THE FIRST ONE to the oak tree, our usual lunch spot at the far end of the campus. I set my lunch bag at my feet, pull my sweatshirt over my head, and cram it into my backpack. Then I prop it behind me as a cushion against the tree.

My peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are squished after spending hours buried in my backpack. But I’m not tasting much today. All of Emma’s talk about that website has me nervous about Peer Issues, my last class of the day. It’ll be impossible to look at Sydney Mills without visualizing her emerging from the warm Hawaiian ocean in a skimpy bikini.

That’s not the kind of thing you tease a guy with!

Sydney Mills and I are in completely different orbits. She’s a Mercury, with the full hotness of the sun beating down on her. I’m a Pluto. Sure, my friends appreciate me, but I’m barely holding on to the far reaches of the galaxy.

“Incoming!”

A Subway sandwich shoots through the air, smacking the ground near my feet. Every day, Tyson tosses his lunch like a bomb, though I’ve never understood why. Kellan says it’s because his dad raised him without a female around to civilize him.

“You’re a dork,” I say.

“Have you seen her yet?” Tyson asks, tearing through his plastic bag.

My heart races. Did Emma tell him about Sydney?

“I know she’s been talking crap behind my back,” he continues. “When she’s around me, she acts all cool. But when I’m not around—”

He’s talking about Kellan. “No, I haven’t seen her.”

Tyson and Kellan are such opposites that Emma and I never imagined they’d get together. The four of us have always hung out, but last July, an intense flirtation sprouted out of nowhere. They kept it up for the rest of the summer, but on the first day of school Tyson called it off. Then they got back together, but eventually Tyson dumped her again. They were like two magnets who couldn’t decide whether to attract or repel. After the last break up, Kellan was so crushed she didn’t come to school for two weeks. Yet somehow, bizarrely, we all remain friends.

“She’s never said anything bad to me,” I say, reaching in for my second sandwich.

Tyson pulls a slice of turkey out of his sub and pops it in his mouth. “That’s because she knows you’ll tell me.”

I spot Emma and Kellan walking toward us, their heads leaning in close.

“See,” Tyson says. “They’re talking about me.”

The girls smile as they get closer, and then sit down. Kellan squeezes ketchup over her fries while Emma peels back the lid of her Tupperware.

“Aloha,” Emma says, grinning mischievously at me. She stabs a cucumber slice with her plastic fork. “Have you seen her yet?”

“Seen who?” Kellan asks.

“Apparently Josh has a crush on Sydney Mills,” Emma says.

Why is she doing this?

“Who doesn’t?” Tyson says, his mouth churning with turkey and cheese.

“I never said I have a crush on her,” I say.

Kellan glares at Tyson. “ Everyone has a crush on her? Really? That is so cliché. Sydney Mills is a skanky rich bitch.”

“Guys, chill,” Emma says. “I wasn’t trying to start anything.”

“I don’t even know her,” I say. “I know who she is, but I wouldn’t—”

Tyson ignores me and looks at Kellan. “Yes, Miss Judgmental, I absolutely have a crush on Sydney Mills. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s hot.”

“Only if you like skank,” Kellan says. She drops a straw in her Sprite and takes a long sip.

Emma catches my eye and mouths that she’s very sorry.

I bite into my sandwich, pretending not to care. After all, that website is just a prank.

I WALK PAST the open door of Peer Issues and glance anxiously inside. Sydney Mills isn’t here yet.

I go straight to my seat. My fingertips drum against my desktop while students pour through the doorway. Each time someone enters, my hands and my heart beat faster.

Rebecca Alvarez walks in and I give her a quick smile. Rebecca and I went out for five months our freshman year, my longest relationship ever. We still talk at school sometimes, but never on the phone or anything.

From her seat across the room, Rebecca mouths, Why are you staring?

I turn back to the door. And there’s Sydney!

I grip the sides of my desk, unable to look away. Her chestnut brown hair flows over her shoulders and down her back. A green knit sweater hugs her chest, the top two buttons left open. She wears a gold necklace dotted with tiny diamonds. She moves up my aisle, sliding her cell phone into a pocket of her tight jeans. My palms sweat just watching her.

Sydney looks at me and it feels like she might smile, but then she lifts her eyebrows. My face must be rearranged into something goofy.

After she passes, a backdraft of coconut floats by my nose, snipping the threads holding my heart in my chest.

TYSON AND I set our skateboards on the lowest bleacher facing the track. I suck down a cherry Slurpee while Tyson freezes his brain on blue raspberry. The cardboard pizza box at our feet is now empty. Because Tyson’s dad owns GoodTimez, we get all the pizza we want for free. In exchange, sometimes I help with the birthday parties, which can mean anything from monitoring the ball pit to dressing as a smiling slice of pizza and handing out goodie bags.

Last year, Tyson and I brought pizza to every home meet. We never paid much attention to the events, but it meant a lot to Emma knowing we were there. When the first meet came around this year, I told Tyson I had too much homework. At the next meet, I said I had to help my dad clean the gutters. Eventually Tyson stopped asking. But today I need to make sure Emma drives me home after the meet and shows me what she saw on that website.

The team walks out to the field. Tyson and I shout, “Go, Emma!” Once she waves, we grab our skateboards and head to the parking lot. Next to the bike racks are two parking spaces with a couple of loose concrete blocks. Tyson grabs one end of a block, and I grab the other.

“Lift!” I say.

We drag both blocks, one after the other, to the center of a parking space, and then Tyson pulls a chunk of Sex Wax from his backpack and tosses it to me. Surfers use this to keep their feet from slipping off their boards, but skaters love it, too. Especially Tyson, who laughs at the name every time we use it. I rub the sticky wax across the top of both blocks and then step back. Tyson lands his board sideways and slides the entire length, then skates to the next block and grinds across it on his trucks.