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"Peanut butter and jelly."
"Looks a lot thicker than the peanut butter sandwiches they give you here. Maybe I’ll get you to bag me a lunch, too," he said. He looked serious about it for a moment, and then he laughed at my expression. "My sister is the biggest busybody here. She loves snooping in other people's business and then spreading rumors."
I studied him for a moment. Was he saying these things just to win my confidence or did he really mean it? I couldn't imagine Jimmy speaking so hatefully about me.
"What grade are you in?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
"Eleventh. I got my driver's license this year and my own car. How would you like to go for a ride with me after school?" he asked quickly.
"A ride?"
"Sure. I'll show you the sights," he added, winking.
"Thank you," I said. "But I can't."
"Why not? I'm a good driver," he pursued.
"I . . . have to meet my father after school."
"Well, maybe tomorrow, then. Hey," he said when I hesitated, searching for another excuse, "I'm perfectly harmless, no matter what you've heard."
"I haven't—" I broke off in confusion and felt my cheeks start to burn.
He laughed.
"You take everything so serious. Your parents gave you the right name. You're definitely as fresh as the birth of a new day," he said. I blushed even harder and looked down at my sandwich.
"So, do you stay in the dorms or live nearby?" he asked.
"I live on Ashland Street."
"Ashland? Don't know it. I'm not from Richmond, though. I'm from Virginia Beach."
"Oh, I've heard of it, but I've never been there. I heard it's very pretty there," I said and bit into my sandwich.
"It is. My family owns a hotel there: the Cutler's Cove Hotel, in Cutler's Cove, which is just a few miles south of Virginia Beach," he said sitting back proudly.
"You have a whole place named after your family?" I asked. No wonder Clara Sue was so swollen with her own importance, I thought.
"Yep. We've been there ever since the Indians gave it up. Or so my grandmother says."
"Your grandmother lives with you?" I asked enviously.
"She and my grandfather used to run the hotel. He died, but she still runs it with my parents. What does your father do, Dawn?"
"He works here," I said and thought, here I go again.
"Here? He's a teacher? And you let me say all those things about Mrs. Turnkey and”"
"No, no. He's a maintenance supervisor," I said quickly.
"Oh." Philip smiled and released a sigh of relief. "I'm glad of that," he said.
"You are?" I couldn't help sounding surprised.
"Yes. The two girls I know here whose fathers are teachers are the biggest snobs—Rebecca Clare Long-street and Stephanie Kay Sumpter. Ignore them at all costs," he advised.
Just then I saw Jimmy come in. He was walking all by himself. He stopped in the doorway and gazed around. When he saw me, he flashed a look of surprise at the sight of Philip as well. Then he headed quickly to my table. He slapped his bag on top and flopped into a seat.
