The Invisible Enemy by Marthe Jocelyn

just make an effort to fix me, Billie!”
    Oh, she was so annoying!
    “Fine,” I said. I’d given her a fair chance to be friends, and she hadn’t taken it. I wished she had, but she hadn’t.
    “Just be quiet,” I said, “since that’s the way you want it! Do whatever I say, or I swear I’ll leave you like this forever!”
    I didn’t give her a chance to make another rude comment. I ran to catch up with the boys, pretty sure she’d follow, at least for five minutes.

19 • On the Spot
    A lyssa tripped on my heels getting on the number 1 train, so I knew she had followed us on board. I sat down. There was only one spot beside me, and Jean-Pierre took it. Hubert stood, wedged between a man with four shopping bags and a teenager with his Walkman turned up so loud we all could have been dancing. I couldn’t tell where Alyssa was.
    “Are you here?” I said aloud.
    “I’m here,” said Jean-Pierre, nudging me. “Why didn’t you call me back at Hubert’s house last night? Did Alyssa tell you my message?”
    “No. She said—”
    I got punched on the shoulder. “Ow!” I rubbed the spot. “I told you not to do that!” I guess Alyssa was pretty close by.
    “What?” said Jean-Pierre.
    “Never mind,” I said. “What were you—” I stopped. What if he did have a crush on me? What if he said it out loud? What if Alyssa heard? I suddenly felt very hot under my jacket.
    “It’s about Hubert.” Jean-Pierre leaned in close. I caught my breath. I could smell his shampoo. Lemon.
    “I think I made a mistake last night,” he was saying. “I should have noticed before, but I didn’t. You probably think I’m an idiot….”He paused.
    “What are you talking about?” I asked.
Idiot
was not the word I had for Jean-Pierre.
    “Until last night, I didn’t realize—I guess I should have—that you were Hubert’s, er, you know, that you and he are sort of hooked up,” he said. “You should have told me. I looked so— I mean, if you’d told me, I wouldn’t feel so stupid, asking you myself.”
    “What?” I said.
    “What?” gasped Alyssa.
    “You and Hubert,” said Jean-Pierre.
    “He
said
that?” I asked, quickly making certain that Hubert couldn’t hear.
    “Well, not exactly,” said Jean-Pierre, “but I could tell from the color of his face when I told him that I—well—that I—”
    He wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was fiddling with the silver button on his denim jacket. I could practically feel Alyssa’s breath in my face, so I knew she must have been eavesdropping really close.
    “Oh, Hubert always turns red,” I said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
    “But since then, he hasn’t spoken to me,” said Jean-Pierre. He stared down at his boots.
    “Poor guy,” said Alyssa.
    Jean-Pierre looked up again. “Who’s the poor guy? Me or him? I didn’t mean to mess up. He was my best new buddy. You and me, we can still be friends, right? And you’ll tell him that I made a mistake?”
    My face was so burning hot I thought I might explode.
    “Can we not talk about this anymore?” Itwas the most embarrassing minute of my entire life, I swear. Hubert
liked
me? Jean-Pierre
liked
me? Oh, why did Alyssa have to be there, listening to every word?
    “Hey, Billie,” called Hubert. He hadn’t heard, thank goodness! He squeezed past the guy with the headphones and stood over us with his knees knocking mine.
    Hubert
liked
me? No way. J. P. must have made a mistake. Hubert was my best friend. He didn’t
like
me!
    “Which stop is it?” Hubert blew an enormous bubble.
    “Seventy-ninth Street. Two more. And don’t dry out the gum,” I reminded him. “It’s supposed to be juicy.”
    Hubert opened the pocket of his fleece vest, showing me the bulge of a Ziploc plastic bag, only half full of dripping gum blobs.
    “We need way more,” I said. “Keep chewing.”
    “I’m doing the best I can,” he grumbled.
    Maybe Hubert just didn’t want J. P to like me because he thought he’d lose