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My hands feel all sweaty, so I sit back and drop them in my lap, rubbing them together.
“Here,” she says, sliding the bag over to me.
Waylon has the same snack, except he has the chocolate wafers, and he digs into those immediately, keeping his gaze down while he eats.
I grab a couple pretzels, and say, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome!”
She’s…really happy. Nice too.
Feeling her stare at me while I eat, I look over and say, “What?”
“You have really cool eyes. They’re like…really light. Almost see-through. Do they glow in the dark?”
My cheeks get all warm and I sink in my seat. People always like to say things about my eyes. It makes me feel weird. “I-I don’t think so.” I bite my lip. “Your eyes are cool too. They’re, like, red.”
She nods. “Right? I’m like a vampire! And you’re like a ghost!”
Waylon snorts.
“And you’re…” She drags the word, frowning deeply, like she’s thinking real hard.
He scowls, glaring up at me, like it’s my fault she can’t come up with anything.
I shrug, and look down, nibbling on my pretzel.
“You’re a demon!” Izzy blurts. “Like that scary one in Buffy. The yellow-eyed demon.”
“My eyes aren’t yellow.”
“They’re gold-ish,” she says, reaching for his snacks. “Close enough.”
He bats her hand away, and she laughs. To me, she says, “Don’t ever touch his food, especially if it’s chocolate. Mom says he Hulks out.” She laughs.
Waylon mumbles under his breath, his cheeks turning red.
I tilt my head. “The Hulk? Do you…do you guys like superheroes?”
“They’re okay. My brother loves them. Do you wanna sit with us at lunch?” she rushes out, changing the subject.
I shrug. “Um, sure?” is all I say.
Again, I can’t help but think of Jeremy, wondering who he sits with at lunch.
I don’t know why I keep thinking about him. Especially now when this girl is talking to me, and inviting me to sit with her—them—at lunch. I won’t have to sit alone.
The desk rattles, like maybe Izzy kicked her foot under the desk, and I look up to find Waylon glaring up at her, his eyes narrowed.
He moves that glare to me, and I scowl. He clearly doesn’t like me, or want to be my friend, and it’s making me mad. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t make him sit here.
“What?” I huff.
His jaw moves around like he’s grinding his teeth.
“He’s just being cranky today,” Izzy says like it’s nothing.
Waylon looks to her, and blinks a couple times before looking down, his hair falling down over his eyes. It’s not nearly as long as Jeremy’s, but definitely longer than mine, his curly bangs covering his eyes like mine do when it gets too long.
