Obsessed over him

if I could have cut off my legs, I would have. Every muscle from the waist down ached and I couldn't suppress a groan as I sat down at my usual lunch table. Rachel looked up from her phone and tried to hide the smile on her face. "What?" I growled, slowly swinging my legs around as I situated myself oh-so-carefully. Rachel spooned some pudding into her mouth and shook her head.

"Nothing," she mumbled around her food. I glared at her. Daniel wasn't so discreet. "Why are you moving like an old lady look ridiculous." I picked up a potato chip and chucked it at him.

, Mags? You

"Coach Kline made me run this morning because I didn't show up for prac- tice a couple of days this week. He was kind of pissed." I leaned down and rubbed my calf muscles, trying to alleviate the burning sensation.

I understood why Coach was mad. I was his star runner and I had disap- pointed him. We had our first meet coming up on Friday and I had blown off practice three times this week. I felt guilty for shirking my responsibility. But I couldn't regret using the time to get to know Clay instead.

We had gone "exploring" a few more times. We went hiking at Crooked Run National Park, played minigolf in Warminster, and saw a movie at the IMAX theater in Charlottesville. I loved spending time with Clay. For the first time, my life felt interesting; exhilarating, even.

I found myself doing things and trying things that I never would have before. Like eating Thai food and watching a foreign movie with subtitles. Okay, that might not seem like a lot... but I would never have thought to do any of that stuff until Clay came along.

"You blew off practice? Seriously?" Daniel asked incredulously. Rachel looked out the window behind her.

"Is it snowing?" she asked in mock surprise. "Hardee-har-har, you two." I got what they were saying. My doing something outside of my norm was unheard of. I went along, doing my thing, not devi- ating. Which is why, until three weeks ago, I had been hopelessly and utterly

bored. Now, well... I looked forward to getting out of bed.

"Where the heck have you been slinking off to, then?" Daniel seemed really confused by this. I understood his surprise. Typically if I wasn't at (a) school or (b) home, I was with him and Rachel. My developing a life outside of them was just weird. Like the earth had been thrown off its axis.

"Well, I—" I started, but was cut off by a voice behind me.

"Mind if I sit with you guys?" I turned (very carefully, of course; sore mus- cles, here) and saw Clay standing there with his lunch tray. He gave me a small smile, his eyes flicking to Rachel and Daniel.

This was the first time I had seen him in the cafeteria since the Paul Delawder incident. I quickly looked at my friends. Rachel had her mouth hang- ing open and Daniel was frowning. Neither of them spoke. Sheesh. Rude, much?

I pulled out the chair beside me. "Have a seat." Clay sat down and put his tray on the table. He looked at me. Just like every other time our eyes had met, I felt my face flush. I swallowed and then turned to Rachel and Daniel. “Rachel, Daniel, this is Clay. Clay, these are my friends Rachel Bradfield and Daniel Lowe." Clay gave them a shy smile. "Hey."

Neither of my friends said anything. They seemed to be a bit taken aback by

Clay's appearance at our table. How humiliating! "Say hi, you two. Or he'll think you never learned to talk." I rolled my eyes and Clay smiled tightly. I could tell he was uncomfortable. Rachel blinked rapidly, the way she did when she was caught doing some- thing embarrassing. "Sorry, Clay. Nice to meet you." She gave him an overly bright smile. I frowned at her and silently communicated to her to stop trying so

hard. Daniel looked at Clay almost as if he were examining him. "Hey,” he replied back. Okay, well, it looked as if Daniel would be a hard sell. He was so territorial sometimes. Clay cleared his throat and started eating his lunch. The vibe around our table became really tense.

"So, how's your day so far?" I asked Clay, trying to cut through the thick- ening silence.

Clay shrugged, not looking at me. "Just another day," he said before return- ing to his lunch. Wow, this was getting bad, and fast. If he didn't want to talk, why the hell did he sit down? Of course it didn't help that Daniel was watching him while he ate.

I shot daggers at my best friends, urging them with my eyes to snap out of it. Rachel sat up straighter and opened her eyes dramatically at me. "Sorry," she mouthed. I pointedly looked at Clay, who was shoveling Salisbury steak into his mouth. "So, Clay. Did you finish that assignment for creative writing? I'm hav- ing a hell of a time writing my short story. I think I got a whole paragraph be- fore I gave up," Rachel said, laughing in that really fake way of hers. At least she was trying.

Clay shrugged again. Was that his only reply? He was being really rude. Not at all like the Clay I had come to know over the past two weeks. I felt a knot in my stomach from his attitude. He was so rigid in his seat, as if he wanted to be anywhere but at our table. I just didn't get what he was trying to do. I mean, he was the one who had approached us. But now he looked as if he couldn't be fin- ished with his food fast enough.

Was it me? Had I done something wrong? Should I have been more vocal to my friends when they were being so weird toward him? Why was I obsessing over what I did? But did I do something?

Then, after a few minutes of complete silence, Clay stood up. I looked up at him in surprise. What the heck was going on?

He finally looked down at me and I saw his face soften a bit. "Thanks for let- ting me sit with you. I'll see you later.” He gave me a half smile and then turned and left.