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Out in the hall after class, I caught his arm and said, “Hey Arch, you really okay?”
“I’m great, Frankie.” He winked. “I got plans for FridayandSaturday. See you at lunch?”
“Having lunch with Mathieu,” I reminded him.
“Right, still need to introduce me to him.”
“I’ll get right on that.” He’d meet him on Saturday for sure, though. Bubba was waiting for me at the stairs to walk to class where we had the fun of taking a pop quiz. I had a feeling we’d be seeing a lot of those in calculus. Afterward, Bubba walked me to French.
“We’re still on after school, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I promised. “I get to ride the bike.”
He grinned. “Yes, you do.” Smile fading a notch, he glanced past me. “Hey, Matt.”
“Ian,” Mathieu greeted him.
“See you at lunch,” Bubba said.
“Eating with Mathieu today,” I reminded him.
“Oh…well, come along and eat with us.”
I stared at Bubba.No.
“Maybe next time,” Mathieu said. “Francesca and I are going off campus.”
“Good to know.” Bubba winked at me. “See you after school, Frankie.”
“They don’t want you to go out with me alone?” Mathieu asked.
Rolling my eyes, I gave him a gentle nudge in the door. “They’re just used to our crazy schedule.”
Made it through French doing drills on vocabulary then practicing conversational by pairing up and interviewing the student next to me. I got Emile. He was a quiet kid and had a slightly higher-class ranking than I did. We despised each other in elementary school, got along fine in middle school and junior high, but since we got to high school we’d been…neutral.
After the class was over, I’d pretty much remembered all the reasons why. Emile wasn’t a bad guy, he was just—boring. Terminally boring. So boring that even his questions made me want to go to sleep.
I told Mathieu where I’d parked so he’d meet me there for lunch then headed off to AP Lit. As soon as we were in our seats, Ms. Farjardo passed out a package of paper. “What you’re going to find on this sheet is Cardinal Woolsey’s speech from Shakespeare’s Henry the VIII. Read it carefully. Then, on the blank pages that follow, I want you write an essay analyzing how Shakespeare used allusion, figurative language, and tone to convey the Cardinal’s complex response to his dismissal from court.”
She checked her watch. “You will have forty minutes. Starting… now.”
Staring at the speech on the first page, I had to push all thoughts of dating, boys, homework, and Mom craziness to the side. Shakespeare was not my favorite to read.
Not by a long shot.
The man pontificated and the flowery language of the time made me crazy. That and I preferred his comedies to his tragedies and his histories—though, I could probably argue his histories were pretty damn tragic.
Forty minutes and a hand cramp later, I’d just finished my second re-read of the essay when Ms. Fajardo called time. She gathered our assignments and then released us five minutes early—probably out of pity for our melted brains. Coop staggered along, one arm over my shoulder as we headed downstairs.
“Did you know she was going to do that?” he asked, then moaned like a zombie.
“Today? Not specifically, but we knew those were going to happen.”
“Well, I think she killed me,” Coop admitted. “If the whole exam is like that, will you promise to visit my grave every week and bring me flowers?”
With a snort, I nudged him. “Of course, I will. I’ll even bring coffee and fill you in on all the fun you’re missing.”
“Mean. Mean.” At the cafeteria, he tugged my ponytail gently. “Have a good lunch with Frenchy.”
