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"None I knew as well as you," he said. His tone seemed serious and nostalgic.
I laughed. "You're still funny," I said.
He wasn't trying to be funny. But he was smiling. He was easygoing and fun. He had matured a lot, but in some ways, he was that exact same guy I fell so hard for in ninth grade. I was thankful for the ridiculous mask, honestly. It was a distraction and it helped me keep everything light and fluffy and not start overthinking things.
"I'm not trying to be funny," he said. "I was being serious. We spent a lot of time together, Grace."
His tone made me want to melt. It felt like my knee bones had been replaced with warm water.
"The picnic goes until about three o'clock," I said, saying the first thing on my mind that had nothing to do with my feelings. "They do a bunch of raffles at three o'clock, and people kind of filter out after that. They're raffling off a new car."
"Yeah, I know. A Jeep."
"That one's been going for a month or two."
"Did you buy a ticket?" he asked.
"Yes, I did," I said.
"How many?"
"One."
"How much are they?" he asked.
"Twenty bucks a piece."
"What would you do if you won?"
"Freak out," I said. "There's no way I'm going to, though, so don't get my hopes up. A ton of people bought tickets. One of the students solda hundred ticketsto one guy. I think it's her uncle."
"Do you think he's going to win?"
"I don't know. He literally has a better chance than anyone else. If it's fair," I added. "I always distrust those things. I think that whoever's picking the winner will just pick their friend."
"Isn't it more official than that for something as big as a car?" he asked.
"I don't know how they choose a winner. They'll announce it at three o'clock. They have all sorts of stuff to do here, though. There's a whole row of games down there by the playground—fun stuff with prizes. From two to three there's a bunch of contests and relay races. If you're still here, you should do it. You'd blow everyone out of the water in the senior division."
Alec cracked up at that. He stared at me, shaking his head. "Do you have anyone?" he asked.
He asked it in a serious enough tone that I knew what he was talking about, but I acted like I didn't. "Have anyone what?" I asked.
"A man, Grace. Do you have a man?"
"No, and I'm not looking for one," I said firmly.
"So sure? What, are you celibate or something? Are you a nun?"
"Do I look like a nun?" I asked, staring at him.
He shrugged. "Not in the traditional sense, but under the scarf, nuns look just like everyone else. Don't they have nuns in street clothes now? Isn't that a thing?"
"I don't think so. Either way, I’m not a nun. I'm just single as it pertains to you."
"Ouch," he said slowly and seriously, like he was really letting that sink in.
"Exactly," I said lightly. "Ouch. For like a year of my life. Ouch was the result." I was smiling and being playful in appearance and tone, but my words were honest and true, and as far as my singleness—where Alec Abramson was concerned, I might as well be a nun.
