“Cover me,” I said, sighing. “I’m going in.”
“Got your back,” said Iggy.
“Later, bye,” Gazzy said, making a U-turn to go eat with some kids his own age.
I couldn’t blame him. I, too, would rather eat with a bunch of nine-year-olds than have to bear witness to the popular girls slavering over Dylan.
“Max!” Dylan beckoned. “Sarah, could you scoot over a little, please?”
Sarah looked like she would rather eat a slug than make room for me, but then Dylan turned his Pied Piper smile on her and she melted. She even patted the bench next to her.
It was almost scary, the effect he had. Thank God I was completely immune to it.
I sat down and a sudden silence fell as the girls looked at my heavily laden lunch tray. Dylan seemed oblivious, and kept up his easy conversation with Nudge.
“You must be… hungry,” said one girl, whose name I think was Bethany.
I wasn’t about to go into bird-kid caloric requirements, so I just smiled and said, “I don’t have to watch my weight, thank goodness.” So bite me.
Nudge popped open her juice. “Last night on Project Makeover, did you guys see where Tabitha was wearing those capris that looked like fruit salad?” she asked, her eyes wide.
Eyes quickly turned to her and heads nodded.
“Those were the ugliest pants I’ve ever seen,” Sarah said solemnly.
I busied myself with my huge chunk of cafeteria meat loaf. Of that last exchange, I had understood the words “pants” and “fruit,” but I couldn’t see how they would go together. Then it hit me: Nudge really did fit into this world. I mean, okay, she’d told me that a thousand times. But seeing her like this, chatting with these other girls, normal girls—the only thing that didn’t fit here was… her wings.
“How’s your morning going?” Dylan asked me, ignoring the pop-culture bonanza surrounding us.
I swallowed, savoring the availability of lots o’ food. To those of you who may sneer at cafeteria fare, I say: Try Dumpster-diving for a month, and then let’s see how happy you are with Monday Meatball Medley or whatever.
“I’m at school,” I said pointedly, and got that smile again, the one that seemed to suck the air out of my lungs. “You seem to be doing well, though.” I slanted my eyes at the girls and then looked back at him.
He grinned. “Same old, same old.”
“Uh-huh. Being God’s gift to girls everywhere is just your cross to bear.”
Dylan nudged my knee with his. “You think I’m God’s gift?” He sounded horribly pleased, and I wanted to smack myself.
“No, but at least you do.” I smiled and took a sip of juice. Dylan smiled wider and I felt a tiny thrill run down my spine. I knew I was courting danger, but this kind of easy almost flirtation was rapidly becoming addictive.
“I couldn’t believe it when Terry said that orange was the new black,” Nudge chattered on next to me.
“I know!” said maybe-Melinda. “I mean, black is the new black, you know?”
Nudge stabbed the air with a french fry. “Exactly! Nothing needs to be the new black, because black will always, always be the new black!”
There was fervent agreement around the table. I had no idea what they were talking about. Black what?
“Actually, it seems to me that blind is the new black,” Iggy said, apparently deciding to shake things up.
“What?” a girl named Madison said.
“I mean, I can’t believe there are so many blind students! A whole school of them!”
Silence. Nudge pressed her lips together; it had been going so well.
I started working intently on my square of spice cake.