“What I said we were—partners for an essay. We were texting all weekend to talk about how we wanted to split up the research, but then…”

“What?”

“We started texting about non-essay-related stuff.”

Adam lifts his eyebrows. “Like what?”

Kimmie gives him a small punch on the arm. “Music,” she says pointedly. “He told me about his band, and I told him about the kind of stuff I write.”

“And what did he say?”

“Well, he couldn’t really say much. Not until I actually play something for him.”

In that moment, we walk through the front doors of the school and are hit by a strong ray of sunlight. After being in dimly lit classrooms all morning, walking outside makes me feel like we’ve been freed from prison.

“So what are you gonna do?” Adam asks as we walk down the block toward the halal cart. We try to avoid eating in the school cafeteria as much as we can, so Mondays are halal cart days.

“There’s not much I can do,” Kimmie says. “I mean, he’s Darryl Williams. What if he doesn’t like my songs? What if I—”

I turn toward her. “You like him.”

“I mean, I like his music, but I—”

“And he likes you,” I say as we reach the corner and join the line for halal. “I could tell he does.”

Kimmie shakes her head. “I don’t know what you think you saw but—”

“Kimmie,” Adam says. “At least one of us should get a boyfriend already.” He came out back in freshman year, before I did, and he’s had a crush on a guy that lives in his building for the longest time. I remember walking in on a conversation that he was having with Kimmie long ago and hearing him say how hard it was to see this guy every day and not be able to tell him how he feels. That was the first time I ever heard about him, and it was one of the main reasons I felt safe telling Adam and Kimmie I was also gay. Adam doesn’t talk much about his neighbor anymore, and he’s never even shown us a picture of what the guy looks like, but I have a feeling he’s still hung up on him.