The Opposite Of Invisible Part 4

"I'm meeting my parents later. They're at the movies now, up at Pacific Place, but it was nothing I wanted to see." He looks up at the chalkboard menu.

"Oh," I say, and take a sip of my soda. Brilliant conversation.

"I was gonna do that Spanish sheet as proof of my ability to study in public. Maybe get a candy apple, too. Does brunch have dessert?"

"Any meal can have dessert, as far as I'm concerned. I love that candy apple place," I say. "Actually, I just like looking in the window. But I've always wanted to try it out."

"I'll wait while you eat so you can go with me."

Simon sips a c.o.ke while I try to eat my fries. I offer him some.

"Thanks." He grabs a five-fry pinch.

"So," I say. "Tell me about the octopus."

"We feed her crab bits inside Mr. Potato Head."

I can't help chuckling at the thought. "The toy?"

"Yeah. You know, Mr. Potato Head has that hatch for his eyes and nose and stuff? We put the food in there and close the hatch. It's fun for people to watch her play with it. Only takes a minute for her to get it open."

"So it's a girl octopus?"

He nods. "Oh, yeah. Sad thing, though. They mated her. She'll lay eggs soon."

"That sounds happy."

"Not for her. She won't eat while she's taking care of the eggs. When they hatch, she'll die."

I drop my fry. "That's horrible!"

"Yeah. But it's natural for the octopus."

So cool that Simon knows this stuff.

"Let's talk about something else," he says.

I hate when people say that. "Um."

"The show was good last night." That, I can talk about. "Robb Moore is a genius."

"I know, how can you not love the Charm?" I sip my c.o.ke.

"I wouldn't know."

He takes another bunch of my fries. He finishes chewing and says, "What's with your friend, anyway? He is just your friend, right?"

I take the soda straw from my lips. "Yes." Did that sound too formal? "Yeah."

"'Cause he's the only person I ever see you talking to. Practically."

"We're good friends."

"Is he gay?"

Personal, personal. At this point, though, I don't care; if he's interested in who I'm dating, and who I'm not, he can say anything he wants. Like I've ever even been on a date.

"Jewel is definitely not gay."

"He's just ... you know. So different."

"He's an artist. He's really talented."

"Yeah?" Simon says. "You know him a lot better than I do."

"And you know everyone else in school a lot better than I do."

Simon eats some fries. "Why are you so quiet at school?"

I certainly don't announce my comings and goings like the how-was-your-weekend homeroom crowd. But I'm not a mouse. Unless. Unless that's exactly what I am. Mousy. Boring. Ordinary. A little timid. Easy to miss if not in a state of scamper.

I keep eating my fries.

"You should talk more," Simon says. "If you showed up to one of our parties and asked for a beer, everyone would love you."

Gee. Just what I want. The love of keg kids.

But really. I study my plate, then sneak a look at Simon. Maybe the secret to having a lot of friends in high school isn't a secret at all. Maybe it's all about being in the right place at the right time. With the right person.

The candy apple shop is right near the original location of Starbucks, the only one to still feature the mermaid logo in all her bare-breasted glory. Apples line the windows: coated in red, in caramel, in chocolate, and in any topping you can imagine, from nuts to sprinkles to full-on candy chunks.

"The one with M&M's and chocolate is my favorite," says Simon.

"That's some heavy-duty apple eating."

He puffs out his chest. "I can handle it."

Is he being sarcastic? G.o.d, I hope he is, with that macho thing. Tarzan is so not my style. All those grunts. The loincloth.

How about ... we are candy-apple Adam and Eve. Tempted.

The loincloth imagery is quite strong for me at the moment. But Adam would have been totally naked.

I so should not be thinking about that.

Being around Simon has got me feeling something tingly in my throat. I want so badly to nuzzle against his neck, my lips against his skin.

Stop! Stop l.u.s.ting after him. Stop l.u.s.ting after him.

I choose a plain caramel apple and Simon gets his favorite.

"My treat," he says, and pays before I can protest.

We sit on a bench next to a huge stuffed teddy bear.

Simon asks me what I think of Spanish cla.s.s. "For real," he says, "does Senora's accent ever crack you up?"

Our teacher is from El Salvador. "Crack me up? No. She speaks English better than I'll ever speak Spanish."

"I knew you'd say something like that. Something fair."

"I guess."

"My friends say she should be was.h.i.+ng their sheets."

I sit up. "What! That's horrible. Cruel. Your friends are mean."

"Yeah," he says. "They kind of are."

"Sorry to say that, but I mean, that's really terrible."

"I know. It's okay. I've always figured that you and Jewel kind of hate us."

I look at my lap. "Not you." "Not you."

"Jewel does. He was ... glaring at me at the show."

Well. "He doesn't know you."

He looks right at me. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"There's a lot you don't know about Jewel. And about me."

"I'm sure there is." He has a little bit of green M&M sh.e.l.l on his bottom lip. "You know, I only moved to Seattle last year. Most of my friends then were seniors 'cause I made varsity football. Now they're off at school. I don't really know anyone here that well."

I know he dated a senior cheerleader last year. She was on the homecoming court. "You seem to do all right."

"I'm outgoing, I guess."

"Yeah," I say, and concentrate on biting my apple.

"Honestly?" He stops eating again but stares at his apple. He's about to say something big. "I don't really care about football and all that. But it's fun. The parties and everything." He turns his eyes back to his apple.

"But ..."

"I'm kinda done with the whole thing. It's fun but it's not ... I don't know. It's not enough? To define me? All the time?"

I know that popularity doesn't buy happiness, but I can't help thinking it might make things easier. "Okay," I say. I guess what I'm thinking is At least you get to have fun. At least you have more than one real friend At least you get to have fun. At least you have more than one real friend.

Then again, it's kind of like what he's saying is I don't have any real friends. Just fun people I don't have any real friends. Just fun people.

"How does our school compare to your old one?"

"Same old," he says. "Cliques. The outsider types here have taken it to kind of a new level, though. Like Vanessa Almond and that guy Nicolai? They're out there."

Like me? I wonder. Not my look, but I'm in that art crowd. wonder. Not my look, but I'm in that art crowd.

"I like it, though," he continues. "They really know who they are. Or they at least think they do. It's kind of ... brave."

"To dress like a freak?"

"To be who you are. In high school."

Simon finishes his apple and gets up to throw away the stick. "Come on," he says. "Let's walk."

"It's not weird," I tell Simon as we move to a bench on the stretch of gra.s.s down by the water near the market. "What's not weird?"

"Talking to you," I say. "Even though we've never really talked before." I can't believe I'm saying this stuff to him.

I sweep my hand out to indicate the park, the bay, the homeless people gathered in a clump.

I'm feeling brave now. "Why did you even come up to me back there, at the lunch counter?"

He looks at me.

He keeps looking at me. With those eyes.

Then he does something amazing. Puts his fingers under my chin.

Simon Murphy, whose perfect girl had to be a cheerleader. That's what I thought. That's what Jewel and I joked about.

He kisses me. He kisses me with candy still on his lips.

So quickly I'm not sure it really was a kiss.

If it was, it was my first.

My heart is trying to beat itself out of my chest. I hope he can't feel it. I hope he can. My toes are bent up in my shoes.

Then he kisses me again, for real. This is easy; is this too easy? Why is he doing this? Does it matter?

I try to melt into him. I try not to worry about my chest exploding as my heart pumps too fast. I try to remember what I've read in magazines about kissing. Open my mouth a little. Let him in.

Just as he pulls away, I think People are watching this; they think we're a couple People are watching this; they think we're a couple.

People would believe that this guy is with me.

"Why wouldn't I come up to you?" he asks.