“No, I just wanted the place to myself.” He swallows the last bite of his sandwich and stands up. “Well, this has been real, but I gotta go be not here.” He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and starts to stand, but Matt pushes him back down.

“You’re being rude to the lady.”

I nod. “Your roommate is not the friendliest, I’m finding.”

“Eh, he’ll warm up,” Matt says confidently. “You gonna come cheer for him on Thursday night?”

“I haven’t made a single plan for this week further than attending the club fair after classes today.” I glance at Salem, who seems to be trying to laser-beam an exit portal into the tabletop using the power of his stare. “What’s Thursday night?”

“Nothing,” he mutters.

“And I thought I was a bad liar.” I take a noisy sip of my fountain Coke and turn to Matt. “What’s Thursday night?”

“My parents are making me try out for the basketball team, okay?” Salem spits. “Now shut up, both of you.”

I try not to laugh. I really do. But the image of the skinny goth boy next to me ambling slowly up the court in a jersey and shorts is way too much.

“Oh, fuck you.” Salem starts to gather up his stuff again, but this time I push him back down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I use my free hand to dig my nails into my thigh, which finally helps me stop laughing. “Anyway, isn’t basketball a winter sport? Why are there tryouts already?”

“It’s for the intramural team, technically,” Matt explains. “We play Tuesday and Thursday nights. But Coach basically handpicks players from it to make varsity in November and uses those games as preseason training. He’s not supposed to, but.” He gives a big, showy shrug. “Anyway, your boy here’s just lucky to have a roommate who knows the ins and outs and convinced him of the importance of showing up.”

“Strategic thinking,” I say, tapping my temple. “I dig it.” I turn to Salem. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s awesome that you’re trying out, and I will definitely come cheer you on.”

“Please don’t.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Matt assures me.

“Oh, I know. What time are tryouts?”

“After your bedtime,” says Salem at the same time Matt says, “Seven.”

“Great!” I smile toothily at Salem, whose eyes are absolutely brimming with murder. “Oh, and I’ll bring Sabrina! I bet she’d love to cheer on her bro.”

“I will kill you in your sleep.”

“Thursday night, seven o’clock,” I confirm, taking another huge bite of eggs. “Can. Not. Wait.”