Weaving through the crowded cafeteria, I make my way to the same table that Ethan and I have shared every day since freshman year. Mike is there, too, and so is Chase. Judging by the zealous arm-swinging and animated facial expressions, Chase is giving highlights of the dodgeball game. Ethan and Mike turn to me with something like newfound respect as I settle into a chair.
"I can't believe I missed that," Ethan says, poking me in the ribs.
"Showing off for the new guy?" Mike adds, eyes flicking to Chase.
"Chalk it up to luck," I say.
Ethan laughs. "More like a fierce competitive streak." I stick my tongue out at him.
"Luck or not," Chase says, "it was an awesome move."
Just then, Ruthie Gordon-Pelletier, practically in tears, slumps into the seat next to me.
"I am so glad to see you," she says. She casts a glance at the boys, whose attention is now on her, and pushes our bags together to form a barrier.
"I am completely mortified," she says in a whisper.
"What's wrong, Ruthie?" Mike taunts, peeking over the barrier. "Start your period in the middle of class?"
"Shut up, Mike." I swat at him and push our bags closer together before turning to Ruthie. "What happened?"
"This happened," she says. She shoves a folded piece of paper into my hands.
I unfold the paper in question and give it a quick once-over. "I see we're getting our tests back today."
"I'm sure you got an A, as usual." Her face crumples. "My mom is going to freak when she sees this."
"You got a B, Ruthie. This is actually very good. The test wasn't easy."
"Have you met my mother?" Ruthie says, her voice pitching up as she levels her gaze at me.
Madame Jeanne Pelletier, French-born and reigning autocrat of the Gordon-Pelletier household. I had met her terrifying mother plenty of times.
"You're right," I say. "She's going to freak."
Ruthie closes her eyes and moans. "She's threatening to send me to my grandparents' home for the summer. She says my grammar is horrendous and my accent unbearable."
I pat her on the back, although I don't feel too sorry for her. "I can think of worse punishments than being sent to Paris for an entire summer."
Ruthie pales. "I can't go! My grandparents are even worse than my mother. They're terrible people, Ali. Terrible!"
"I can tutor you," I say. After all, I'm reasonably sure Ruthie's been working up to that all along.
Ruthie sits up straighter. "Really? I would pay you, of course."
I wave away the offer. "You're not paying me, Ruthie. We're friends. It's no big deal. I'll have to look at my work schedule, but I'm sure I can help you out a few days a week."
Ruthie throws her arms around my neck and squeezes so hard it feels like my eyes are going to pop out of my head. "You're a lifesaver! I seriously don't know what I would do without you."
"Seriously, don't worry about it. I'll text you later to set something up."
"Thank you!" Ruthie stands and grabs her bag, looking a lot better already.
"Aw, man. Don't go, Ruthie. I was hoping you girls would start making out," Mike says.
"You're such a pain in the you-know-what," says Ruthie, narrowing her eyes at him.
"I'll give you a little something in the you-know-what," Mike says, eyebrows bouncing up and down. Ruthie's face reddens. She looks like she wants to say something, but she huffs and hurries off.
"That's too bad," Mike says to no one in particular. "Ruthie's pretty hot. A little uptight, though." He turns to me. "Just like you, Ali."
I throw a French fry at him. "Seriously, Mike. Shut up."
"Ali is our resident genius," Ethan says to Chase. "Everyone wants her as a tutor. She could probably make a full-time job of it."
"I'm not a genius," I say, giving Ethan a pointed look. He doesn't take the hint to be quiet, though.
"She's, like, ranked number one in the senior class."
"You guys know your ranks?" Chase says.
"Only the people at the top care," Mike says.
"What's your rank?" Chase asks Ethan.
"One-hundred something," Ethan says. "Not too shabby, considering there are close to five hundred in our class."
"Four fifty-three," Mike says though no one has asked. He waves his hands above his head and snaps his fingers like his rank is something to brag about.
"How you've managed not to flunk out of school is a mystery," I say to him.
"So Ruthie's a friend of yours?" Chase asks.
"Yeah. We all," I say, motioning to Ethan, Mike, and myself, "have known each other since preschool."
"Oh. Cool. She does seem a little uptight," he says.
"A little?" Mike chimes in. "Ruthie has a stick shoved so far up her ass, I wouldn't be surprised if she's never taken a shit."
"Don't be so rude and disgusting," I say.
Despite Ruthie's apparent deficiency in the French language—ironic, given that she grew up in a bilingual household—she's super sweet.
I glance at Chase and follow his gaze to where Ruthie has gone to sit by herself, three tables over. She's flipping through a stack of flashcards while nibbling a pear. "Do you want me to introduce you?" I say.
Chase jerks his attention back to me and winks. "I'm a big boy. I can introduce myself."
Chase gets up and we watch as he approaches Ruthie. They're too far away to overhear, so Mike helpfully supplies the dialogue.
"Howdy," he says, mimicking Chase's voice, much deeper than his own.
Ruthie looks up and smiles. "Howdy yourself," says Mike, affecting the higher register of Ruthie's soprano. "And who might you be?"
"The name's Chase, ma'am."
"Why do they have southern accents?" I say. "We live in New York."
"Shh," Ethan says, placing a hand over my mouth.
Mike continues, speaking for Ruthie again. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Would you care to sit down, maybe stay for a glass of refreshing lemonade?"
Chase pulls out a chair and sits next to Ruthie. He leans casually on one elbow and fixes her with his gaze. "Don't mind if I do, little lady. I hear tell that I might be of some assistance to you."
"Is that so?"
Ruthie gazes back from under her lashes, obviously embarrassed by something he's said. She's trying to hide a smile but not doing a very good job of it. Her cheeks are flushed, too.
At that point, Chase gestures to the three of us. "Well, my friends tell me you've got a stick up your butt."
Ethan erupts in laughter but closes his mouth when he sees the glare on my face. "Stop it, Mike," I say. "Ruthie's our friend."
Mike goes on, unphased, in Ruthie's voice. "Well, yes. I'm afraid I was born with it. I inherited it from my mama, you see."
"That's a right shame, ma'am. I'd be most honored if you'd let me yank it out for you."
Ruthie smiles on cue, pleased with whatever it is that Chase has actually said. "That's the sweetest offer anyone has ever made me! Wherever have you been all my life?"
I can't help it. I start giggling at Mike's impersonation of Ruthie and Chase, and pretty soon the three of us are doubled-over, barely able to catch our breath. We're still laughing when Chase finally returns to the table.
He pulls out a chair and sits. "What's so funny?"
We look at each other and burst out laughing again.
*****
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