“Always up for Burger Barn,” Camille says.

“Sure,” I say even though all I have is a five-dollar bill in my pocket. I can at least sit with them. Maybe have a Coke or something.

We go inside this time, piling into a turquoise booth under the buzzing fluorescent lights. Menus are already on the table, but no one even glances at them. I look across the table at Julian and catch his eye while Camille digs in her purse beside me. He smiles with one side of his mouth, and I try to smile back.

I’m still hiding the big thing from him. Coley.

I probably would have told him if Camille and everyone hadn’t come outside at the dance. It was on the tip of my tongue. I would have just apologized later and explained myself. Frankie would understand. Maybe.

But then there were Camille and Bucky holding hands and Nate and Darien and the whole school spilling out into the parking lot, and the moment was gone.

I’ll tell him. I will.

I have to.

He thought I hated him, and I can’t let him continue to think that.

“Cheese fries?” Julian says when Camille pulls her head out of her purse.

“Cheese fries are always the correct answer,” Camille says. She turns to me in the booth. “Cheese fries?” she asks.

“Oh, um… nothing for me,” I say, pretending to be completely engrossed in the end of my fingernail.

“Nonsense,” Camille says in a fake British accent. “There’s a rule. Cheese fries before every home game. It’s the only way you’ll win. Duh.”

“I don’t have any—”

“Hi!” The server, a pretty sophomore girl with a high ponytail and a nametag that says MERRI in block letters comes over just then with a tray full of sodas and sets one down in front of each of us. “Daddy says y’all better win tomorrow afternoon.” Her voice shakes, and she nods toward the kitchen. A tall man with a hairnet stands flipping burgers at a huge grill. “Dinner’s on him tonight.”

“Thank you, Mr. Brannigan.” Julian raises his soda glass toward the kitchen. “First touchdown has your name written all over it.”

Mr. Brannigan salutes Julian with his spatula.

Camille leans across the sticky table and whispers, “We never pay at Burger Barn the night before a game. Julian’s like a local celebrity. And I’m guessing after tomorrow, you will be, too.”

“I don’t know about all that.” I laugh.

“What? Are you nervous about tomorrow or something?” Julian asks, peeling the paper from a straw. His eyes are soft. He’s looking at me differently than he did at the beginning of the week.