Take My Advice

Chapter Four

"You are the queen of awesome!" Dylan gave her a high-five, and she blushed.  

"I was pretty awesome. I mean, he didn't ask me out or anything, but now he knows I exist, right?"  

"Exactly. And knowing someone exists is sort of helpful when it comes to asking them out." Dylan nudged her with his elbow.  

"Who's Mario?" I felt distinctly left out of this conversation.  

Amanda turned to me and rolled her eyes. "Mario? From French class?"  

"Yeah, you just said that. I still don't know who he is."  

"I've been talking about him almost nonstop for a month now."  

I paused to think. "Are you sure? I don't remember that."  

"That's because you're always so busy talking about your own stuff that you don't listen to mine."  

The bell rang before I could form a reply. What did she mean by that? Of course I listened to her. That's what I did, after all. That's why people came to me. Speaking of that . . .  

My mind flitted back to my mysterious letter. That's what I was going to call it from now on because I needed to call it something to tell it apart from all the other letters I got. What had Dylan just said, that his father was an alcoholic? Could he have sent me that note?  

I didn't think so. In the first place, it sounded like his dad was no longer in the picture, and the note-sender had definitely said that his situation was current. In the second place, Dylan wasn't acting like he was in pain. He'd crossed his arms over his chest and everything, and from my understanding of anatomy, if he had a broken rib, he'd be moving a lot more gingerly.  

No, it couldn't be him. I hoped Ms. Young and Mr. Leffert would figure it out soon-I needed to know so I could get rid of this pit in my stomach.  

*** 

"Hey, Dr. Jill!" Bruce called out as soon as I entered the lunchroom. I was in no mood for this-proofreading the newspaper always wiped out my blood sugar. Not as badly as Mr. Kramer did-that guy had a special talent all his own-but I needed my lunch, and fast. "Shrunk any heads lately?"  

He sat at his usual table, surrounded by his usual cronies. For once he wasn't arm-wrestling with his buddies or doing something else to show off his manly prowess-instead, he was holding hands with a girl. A girl? I did a double-take. Huh. It was Gina-I knew her from history. And they looked somewhat happy together. I never would have guessed.  

I waved my hand in acknowledgement of his unconventional greeting and grabbed a tray. I was still smarting from Amanda's little comment earlier and knew that only Mrs. Hansen's baked macaroni and cheese could save me now. I sat and started to eat, wondering where Amanda was. She hadn't decided to go sulk somewhere, had she? 

Dylan plunked down next to me, his tray piled high with just about everything imaginable. "Hey."  

"Hey," I grunted. Hadn't he learned anything from yesterday, like, don't talk to me while I'm eating?  

"Where's Amanda?" he asked.  

I glanced around, even though I knew she wasn't there.  

"She seemed a little upset earlier," he continued.  

Amanda had been upset? What about me? I'm the one she practically attacked right there in the hallway. I shrugged, deciding not to get into it. Dylan would probably tell me that I should choose to be happy about it, and I definitely didn't need that brand of advice.