Tag Along by Tom Ryan

says. “But we should hide it, in case someone else comes along.”
    â€œYou’re very moral,” I tell her. “If someone talked to me the way Candace talked to you, I’d probably put dog shit in her bag instead of putting it away for safekeeping.”
    We go back into the quarry and Andrea shoves the pack deep into a thick shrub. Then we start walking toward the strip.
    â€œYou know,” I say, “I actually think I have a legitimate reason to be upset. I was really looking forward to tonight.”
    â€œI know,” she says. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch. Sometimes I think I take things too seriously.”
    â€œNo shit,” I say. “Weren’t you looking forward to prom?”
    â€œI was,” she says. “Believe it or not.”
    â€œGetting dressed up and dancing all night is pretty much the best thing ever,” I say. “I bet Justin would have thought you looked hella hot.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” she asks, turning quickly to glare at me.
    â€œOuch! Enough with the devil eyes,” I say. “Come on, Andrea, it’s common knowledge that you have the hots for Justin Sanchez.”
    â€œWell, I sure never said that,” she says, as a slow blush rises up into her hairline.
    â€œOh, Andrea,” I say. “You have so much to learn. Okay, let me put this in terms you can understand. It’s like you’re the sodium to Justin’s chloride. For example, I sit right behind you in chemistry class, and I’ve noticed that every time Justin raises his hand to speak, your whole body shifts.”
    â€œI pay attention whenever anyone in class speaks,” she says.
    â€œSure, but when other people speak, you just sit there with the end of your pencil in your mouth, looking at the ceiling. When Justin opens his mouth, you turn to look at him and your eyes get all wide and dreamy like some girl in a Japanese cartoon. Trust me on this one. I could draw your swoony, slack-jawed love profile from memory.”
    â€œWhatever.”
    â€œHey, don’t be offended,” I say. “There’s nothing wrong with digging on a guy. Justin’s cute, in a strange, geeky, scientist hipster sort of way. You guys would make a good couple.”
    â€œI’m not offended,” she says. “I’m embarrassed. Is it really that obvious?”
    â€œNo, not at all. The only way I picked up on it is that I have excellent straightdar. I’m sure nobody else notices.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œNot really. You practically drool when he walks into the room.”
    â€œOh my god.” She starts chewing her nails.
    â€œRelax,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling it away from her face. “I’m just messing with you. And quit that right now. Nail-biting is gross and unhygienic.”
    We turn onto the strip. We haven’t even walked a block when a minivan full of jerks drives by and some yahoo tosses an empty soda bottle at me. It misses me narrowly.
    â€œHey, faggot!” the guy yells.
    Andrea jumps back, startled. I reach down and pick up the bottle and whip it at the van.
    â€œTell your dad he left his undies at my house, asshole!” I yell.
    Andrea turns to stare at me.
    â€œAsshole!” I yell again as the van disappears into the distance.
    She won’t stop staring. “What?” I ask.
    â€œJesus, Roemi,” she says. “Those guys. They just…did they just…?”
    â€œYes, Andrea, they screamed a homophobic slur at me.”
    â€œDo you know them?”
    â€œI don’t know—they drove by too quick. They might have just been yelling because of my outfit. I do kind of look like the master of ceremonies in Cabaret .”
    â€œAre you okay?” she asks.
    â€œI’m fine,” I tell her. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
    â€œOkay,” she says. She’s still looking at me