Are You Still There by Sarah Lynn Scheerger Page A

ridiculous, because she’s painted them black, and all you can see are these tiny blobs of black on each finger.
    Chloe answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “All cops have guns.”
    â€œNo—I mean one that he keeps at home?”
    â€œYeah.” I kind of thought all cops had guns they kept at home.
    â€œTrippy.” Mel chews on her lip, and then she whispers, “Have you ever touched it?”
    â€œNo,” I answer fast, and then wish I hadn’t. I wonder how Chloe would answer that one. “He keeps it locked up.” I don’t mention that I know the combo. And then because I can’t help it, I ask Chloe, “Have you ever touched it?”
    She doesn’t make eye contact right away, and that tells me all I need to know. She slides her eyes up toward mine, and then she says, “Nope. Never touched it.” If she hadn’t looked away, I’d have believed her. But she did look away. And now I know she’s a liar.
    I can tell Mel knows too. She makes this strange mmhmm noise and gets this glimmer of a smile, so slight that after a minute I’m not sure if it was really a smile at all. First time I’ve seen her smile today.
    It creeps me out.
    â€œWant to grab a pizza after our shift?”
    Miguel has asked me out ten times in the last week. In ten different ways. To ten different places. I’ve made up ten different excuses.
    I sigh. I’ve been considering asking Paisley to swap partners, but maybe I should just be a grown-up and talk to him.
    I face him. “Miguel, this may sound strange to you, but I’ve never really dated anyone.”
    I can tell by his expression that he thinks this is just excuse number eleven. It’s not. “Look, my dad’s a cop, and he sees all kinds of crazy things out there, so he’s super strict.” Plus Mom has always wanted me to stay focused and avoid drama. Keep my “eye on the prize.”
    So I don’t date.
    Not that I’ve had a lot of opportunities anyway, but I don’t tell Miguel that. He’s nodding again, and I can tell he’s not going to give up on this one. What, is he waiting for his quota of rejections?
    â€œHow many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested?” I ask Miguel. I feel brave because Janae’s in the office with us. She’s beading and she has her earphones in, but I can tell she’s really listening to our conversation anyway.
    â€œOnly once.” He sits down close to me.
    â€œI’ve already told you a million times!” I almost scoot away. But his bare arm is touching my bare arm, and it makes me tingle. I’m not sure if it feels nice or uncomfortable, but I stay anyway.
    â€œYou’ve lied to me a million times. I know you’re interested.”
    â€œYou’re full of yourself.”
    Miguel stops, and I think maybe I’ve offended him. He repeats what I said. “Full of myself? I am not familiar with that expression.”
    Janae snorts. She unplugs her ears. “You’re a riot,” she tells Miguel.
    He winks at her. “A riot? What does that mean?”
    Janae throws a bead at him. “In case you didn’t know it, Gabi, Miguel likes to play the new immigrant thing. It’s his dating act.”
    â€œWhat you mean by ‘new immigrant thing’?” Miguel holds his hands up flat, all innocent. Then he reaches over and grabs Janae’s foot.
    â€œHe thinks it makes him cuter.” She kicks her leg to try to get him off. “Has he tried the rose shtick yet?”
    I look back and forth between Janae and Miguel. Miguel’s face has turned a dark shade of purple, which is hard to do since his skin is so dark in the first place. But he’s not pissed. His eyes are practically twinkling. He turns to me. “Anyway, I know you’re into me. You just don’t know it yet.”
    â€œScrew you,” I tell him as firmly