We got good laughs from that, too. Sometimes. Other times, I could tell that being supposed sex pros was losing its charm. When dudes said wild gross things in the hall. When girls who weren’t in attendance cracked on “the party hoes.”

Last summer, I started seeing less of Shianne. I’d text, but her responses were anywhere from slow to never.

I remembered when her clothes got tighter, her walking around the halls with her stomach poking out extra far while she massaged her lower back. Her belly button protruding a little farther than everything else, like the baby was trying to show everyone at Green Creek its thumbprint. One day, Shianne was gone. Now she was back. With a whole new human to care for.

Sometimes, for like a hot second, I wondered if we hadn’t lied and kept lying, would things have turned out different for her? Or, if I’d just told the truth, snapped on dudes calling her a “party ho” instead of riding the lie, could I have made things different for her.

Would’ve. Could’ve. Should’ve.

The truth wasn’t gonna help anyone now.

At the class-change beep, my anxious thoughts shifted from “lying on my dick”—Green Creek’s preferred phrase for the act of falsifying one’s sexual conquests—to “wet dreams,” and I couldn’t decide which one was worse. I was heading into MJ’s English class, where I’d decided I’d ask Jameer’s question at the end instead of waiting until Healthy Living. That way anyone who saw me hang back would assume it was book related, not, er, penis related.

We were currently reading Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison to discuss next week. But, today, we had presentations on a novel of our choosing. We were supposed to talk about the plot, themes, symbolism, and the work’s relevance to modern society. This was a pretty cool unit because MJ let us pick anything. Novel, short story collection, graphic novel, whatever. I went on Monday, talked about Invincible: Vol. 1, a comic book trade collection where the son of the world’s greatest hero finally gets his own superpowers only to find out his dad really has plans to take over the world. MJ gave me a B plus because he said I slacked on symbolism and relating the story to our real, modern world. I disagreed, but wasn’t salty about it, or anything.

Today, three more people were presenting. Among them, Mason Miles. I steeled myself for what was coming.

MJ said, “Mason, you’re up. What do you have for us today?”

Like he didn’t know. We all knew.

Mason unfolded from his desk, tall and slim, with protruding veins running up his military-pushup-molded arms like drawings. I didn’t think the JROTC guys had to wear army stuff every day, but Mason did anyway. Today it was camouflage pants, tucked into tightly laced tan boots, and an olive-green T-shirt with dog tags hanging over the collar. He smiled at Lacey Bishop on his way to the front, and she showed him every last tooth in her head. A lot of girls got super goofy when Mason looked their way. As if his head wasn’t big enough.