“I can just tell.”
Corndog smoothes his hair and glances at me sideways. I let go of his fingers and reach across the table and take Drew’s hand in mine, to show I love him. His eyes find mine, and I can tell he knows I knew.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Corndog asks.
“I just did.” With his free hand he stuffs fries in his mouth. That’s when Corndog reaches across the table and puts his hand on top of ours.
“I’m glad you said something,” I reply.
“Is this staying a secret?” Corndog asks. “Or are you going to tell other people?”
“I don’t know yet,” he croaks. His breathing quickens. “I’m not even sure…I mean, I like girls too. Sometimes, I mean. I—”
“It’s okay,” Corndog says. “Let us know if we can do anything.”
“Why are you guys huddling in Jiffy Burger?” Sam calls out, striding up to our table.
Drew quickly wiggles his hand out from under ours and takes a big bite of his burger, getting ketchup and mustard on his chin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and burps. Nice front. I guess this is staying a secret for now. What a relief.
“You pig,” I say. “Don’t choke on your Monster burger.”
“Did someone say Monster burger?” JJ says from behind Sam.
“Nasty,” Joe Carter says.
“Where’s Jordan tonight?” I ask Sam.
“She kicked me out,” he says with a laugh. “She’s with Carrie and Marie at some party. We’re going to crash it in a few. Y’all want to come?”
“I’m in,” Drew says, dusting salt off his hands.
After I watch the guys eat, like fifty thousand Monster burgers, we drive to Kristen Markum’s house, where lots of people are crowded in the dark living room, dancing to rap music and sipping beer. She’s a nasty piece of work and lots of people dislike her, but hey, a party’s a party, I guess.
“I’m here!” Sam yells and hurtles himself into the mix.
“Woo!” Drew hollers, following him into the throng of girls huddled near a beer pong table. I watch as he takes a shot directly out of a Smirnoff bottle and wipes his mouth, then does another shot. He passes the bottle to Sam, who takes a swig.
JJ and Carter meet up with their girlfriends, leaving me alone with Corndog. He slips a hand onto my lower back.
“Want a drink?” he asks.
“I don’t really drink.”
“Me neither.” He seems deep in thought and looks around the room. His hand doesn’t leave my back. It makes me feel safe.
Laura doesn’t come to parties—she’s a Christian, after all—so it doesn’t surprise me that she’s not here with Aaron and Tate, but Allie is here, checking me out. Hypocrite. Some guy has his arms around her and she’s grinding her butt against him.
“Don’t you know who I am?” I hear Drew yell. Some laughing sophomores—very popular sophomores—are backing him into a corner. One girl whips out a roll of duct tape. Another shoves him against the wall and French kisses him. “I’m the star of the football and baseball teams—you can’t do this to me!”
“This oughta be good,” Corndog says, crossing his arms and smiling. The warm spot on my back where his hand had been goes cool.
A minute later, the girls have gotten JJ to lift Drew off the ground, and they duct tape his wrists and ankles to the wall. He’s hanging there like a fly stuck in honey.
“Didn’t know that was possible,” I say, wide-eyed.
“Do you want to find someplace quiet?” Corndog asks over the music. “To talk?”
I’ve never felt comfortable at parties. “Can we leave?”
He grins, and we go tell Drew we’re taking off. He’s still hanging on the wall.
“I think I’ll head home,” I say, faking a yawn.
“Me too,” Corndog says, touching my back again. “I’ll make sure she gets home, okay?” he says to Drew, who looks from me to Corndog. Sadness washes over his face.
I get up on tiptoes and give Drew a hug—well, the best hug I can considering he’s totally spread eagle.
“Take care of him,” I tell Sam, who’s standing nearby with Jordan, nuzzling her neck. She’s smiling at Sam sideways.
“You got it,” he replies. I can trust him to peel Drew off the wall and get him home safely.
Then Corndog and I take off walking down the highway, passing the Franklin Public Library and Rose Jewelers.
“Well this was a stupid idea,” I say, once I realize it’s freezing outside. Must be in the fifties.
“I’d offer you my coat, but I don’t have one.”
“You could offer me your shirt.” I laugh, pointing at his long-sleeved tee.
“But then we’d look like total white trash. Me walking down the street all bare-chested.”
“I’ll still be your friend, even if you look like white trash.”
He laughs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Thanks, that means a lot. I think.” He pauses as a semi races past us, kicking up dust and gravel. He shields me from most of the debris. The dust makes me cough, and he pats my back. We continue on down the highway, and every time a car gets near us, I yell, “Ahhh, Corndog, save me!” and bury my face in his shoulder so I don’t get a mouthful of rocks.
“Why won’t you call me Will?” he asks.
“I dunno. You’ve always been Corndog. My archrival.”
He focuses on the pavement. “Not anymore. You won valedictorian.”