I nod, but I don’t feel like talking more. Maybe it’s because I don’t like to rehash the details of what happened at Our Lady of Lourdes or what’s happening now. It’s comforting enough to just be around people who really, truly get it.

“I hate that,” Jack says, shaking his head. “I try to correct teachers when they’re wrong, but we shouldn’t have that sort of responsibility placed on us. If they aren’t going to present all the facts, they shouldn’t have an HIV unit at all.”

“Wait, imagine Dr. Khan talking to my teacher,” Brie orders. “She would kick his ass with all twelve of her degrees, I swear to God.”

I’m giggling so hard I might choke on my candy.

“Hey,” Jack says in between snickers. “Don’t say that around Simone. She’s Catholic. It’s impolite.”

“I don’t care,” I say, shaking my head. “Seriously.”

“Screw polite,” Brie says. “Simone doesn’t care if I’m polite.”

“I don’t. You don’t have to worry, Jack,” I say, popping another Starburst in my mouth. “I’m just using you guys for candy.”

Jack’s cheeks are red from laughing. Brie’s elbow is hard as she jabs it in my side. I laugh anyway. Maybe Group isn’t so bad.

CHAPTER 25

By the time sixth period rolls around the next day, I’ve decided I should go out for lunch with Miles every day and stop trying to get on Claudia’s good side. We’re standing in the middle of a sidewalk near his house, strawberry ice cream dribbling down my arm, and my chest is filled with the warmest, most pleasant feeling.

“Hey.” He nudges me, careful not to drip any of his own cone. “Yours is melting.”

Licking streams of melted ice cream off my hand will probably leave a sticky mess, but I do it anyway. Miles shakes his head. There are lots of awesome aspects to the whole dating thing—namely, the fact that Miles always pays, even if I pretend that I don’t want him to. Maybe it makes me less of a feminist, but whatever. Paying for our dates can be Miles’s version of the Pink Tax. Now the relationship is automatically more equal.

But, besides money, the best part of dating is being able to look at him during moments like these: his chest shaking in laughter, eyes crinkled.

I know blowing off my friends for lunch is just making things worse, but I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to do. Claudia doesn’t answer my texts and Lydia does, but it’s always hours after my first message. Maybe this doesn’t exactly count as a fight. But it’s the first time we’ve ever been weird.

“Come on,” Miles says, tugging at my arm. “You can wash your hands at my place.”