"Really?"
"Yeah, really. Why do you look all surprised?"
"Because I'd say you like fighting."
"You obviously don't know me well."
"I'd say you like fighting but you hate that you like it."
"Oh, thank you, wise one."
"You handled Megan today."
I run my hand over my eyes. "That was horrible."
"You didn't slug her."
"I grabbed her arm, and I never grab people's arms."
"She was attacking your friends."
"Yeah. She was. And then you helped her with her sit-ups. That was rude of you."
"Why was it rude?"
"Because they're your friends too. It's like you went all traitor or something."
He shakes his head. His hair flops over his ears a little. A muscle twitches near his jaw. "Zara, I would never go traitor."
"It's okay. She's pretty."
"I was talking to her. I was telling her to leave them alone. Leave you alone."
I stab at a piece of lettuce. My fork pierces all the way through but when I bring the fork up to my mouth the lettuce rips, flutters down. Everything seems to be fluttering down: Devyn's napkin, the lettuce, my heart, my ego, my everything. When I talk again my voice is soft. "I just don't like that I grabbed her arm. I don't like that I had to yell at her. I hate yelling. I'm not into conflict. I promised myself a long time ago that I would never hurt anyone for any reason…"
He leans away. "What? Like you wouldn't attack the creep who keeps pointing at you?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I don't know if I could hurt someone else."
"C'mon, Zara. You don't value yourself that little, do you?" He leans back. His thigh touches my thigh.
Neither of us move away.
"That's not it. I don't really know how to explain it. It's more like, who am I to decide that my life is worth more than someone else's?" It tingles where our legs meet.
A cafeteria light flickers and makes a buzzing noise high above us. Trays clatter in the background.
People murmur about tests and dates and here we are talking about this.
He smells like the woods. I try not to smell him; it makes me dizzy. I try to focus.
He's talking. "You wouldn't attack a person who was trying to kidnap someone? Or hurting a baby?
Or-" "Enough," I interrupt. "I don't know if I would, okay? I mean, I know all about self-defense and everything, but I don't know if I could do it, if it's morally right to do it."
"You'd do it." He grins, so certain he's right. "If someone was attacking lssie you'd do it. If someone was attacking your grandmother you'd do it. Or Devyn. Or probably even Ian."
My eyes close. This is probably true. "I don't want that to be true."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to be violent." "It's not violent to protect your friend." "It doesn't matter. It's not like someone's going to go attack Issie."
"We don't know that," "What? You think Is is in danger?"
"No." He raises his hands up in the air. "I think we're all in danger."
"From that guy? The pointing guy? You think he's seriously bad?"
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I do."
I lean forward, closer to him. "But how? How do you know?"
"I feel it here." His fist taps his stomach.
We stare at each other for a second. There's something about his eyes that makes me frightened, yet not frightened. That makes no sense. It's like every part of me needs those eyes to look into my eyes a certain way, but I'm afraid of that. I want to ask about the dust I saw on his coat, but I'm afraid of that, too.
"I'm such a wimp," I say.
He must think I'm still talking about the pointing man because he shakes his head. "No you aren't. You just don't want to be brave."
"What?"
Nick doesn't answer because Devyn rolls back to the table. Issie bee-bops right behind him. He's got a pile of cookies spread across a napkin in his lap. "Is went a little crazy."
"I didn't know what kind everyone would like," she explains, plucking cookies up off the napkin and putting them on the table. She glances at us. "Oh no. You two are still fighting."
"No, we aren't," Nick says.
Devyn eyes us.
"Really," I say. "We aren't fighting."
"Then what's all the doomy-gloomy vibe going on?" Issie asks, sitting down. She offers me a cookie, M&M's mixed with chocolate chips.
"I scared her," Nick explains. He grabs an oatmeal raisin.