But lunch is surprisingly fun too, and revelatory—I learn about Sabrina’s first pet, a guinea pig who lived up to his job title for way too many of her practice spells, and that Salem was afraid of lightning until junior high and Sabrina’s not convinced he’s over it. (“I’ll protect you,” I assure him in a serious whisper, patting his hand on the table while Naomi Grayson watches us like she’s about to advise on our china pattern.)

Of course, Salem and I are forced to recount our “first date,” and while we definitely do not finish each other’s sentences, it’s pretty easy without even discussing it to simultaneously come up with that first movie night as the setting. Naomi is riveted at the detail that Salem loaned me his jacket (naturally, we give it a very different context), and glows as we one-up each other with stupid additions that make it sound more like Salem took me to Cannes than that we walked together across campus to watch a cheesy movie in an auditorium.

“Sammy.” I swear she’s holding back tears as she squeezes his hand over the table, and okay, maybe I feel a little bit bad for having so much fun with this. “I’m so proud of you. You promised that you’d turn into a real stand-up citizen if you got a fresh start, and you really have.”

The guilt at our deception gives way to a little pride, because this means I have definitely delivered on my half of the bargain. Judging by the way Salem’s cheeks flush as he stares at the tabletop, but without letting go of his mom’s hand, this is exactly what he’s been waiting to hear. And I’m genuinely happy for him that he’s getting to hear it.

This time, when I put a hand on his knee and squeeze, I’m not trying to draw blood.

Still, I find I need a break from the charade; it’s all starting to feel a little too real for comfort, and I don’t like the way Sabrina keeps eyeing us and smirking. I really don’t like thinking about whether this is a shitty thing to do to Jenna—much as she sucks—and how, if it is, I of all people should know better. So after lunch, I’m considerably firmer about not accompanying them on the next portion of their weekend, and I spend the rest of the afternoon playing online poker and reading Sabrina’s and my next GSA read—this time, it’s the football player / cheerleader romance, which Sabs has already grudgingly admitted is better than she expected.

I don’t even realize it’s growing dark around me until a knock sounds at my door, forcing me to look up from the page. “Come in!”