“Last time,” said Carter, as if the conversation could, in fact, take another turn, “she asked about my dating life and what it would take for me to grow a pair and ask her out already.”

Austin startled. “Wait what?”

“I know. I do not understand that girl.”

“. . . did it work?” Austin asked.

Carter shrugged. “If anything, it made me feel sorry for her. Like I should help her more.”

He was sorry for her . . . I could work with that.

“Good job doing community service,” I said, “We can’t all be like you.”

“My sister needs a ride soon,” said Carter, “if you’re offering.” He frowned at the math textbook. “I’ve really got to do this.”

“I could use a ride,” Austin joked.

“Now you owe us mozzarella sticks,” Carter said. “Chop chop.” He turned to me.

“She needs to go to the mall to pick up fashion show dresses for Friday. Pretty sure they close at nine.”

Another babysitting task from Carter. Thank God for the fashion show.

“Sure, no prob.” I went back to my homework like it was nothing, and my knee wasn’t bouncing against the table leg. “Tutoring must’ve been awesome, though. Spending three hours talking about me . . .”

Standing up to order more food, Austin stole the Red Sox cap off my head and threw it across the room, near to where Chef Pizzeria was giving us the hairy eyeball.

“If I’m not allowed to make dick comments, neither are you,” Austin declared, though I knew he’d just been looking for an excuse to throw my hat. Austin hates the Red Sox more than I hate the Yankees, and we’d developed a sort of hat rivalry.

“You want to die, Banks? You’d better watch it. Remember, I know where you live.”

“Be still, my beating heart.” He pretended to check his phone, disinterested in my threat.

“Yo, what time is it?”

“It’s 6:21,” said Austin, “If you want to get Eliza, you’re officially running late.”

“Ah.” I grabbed my soccer jacket and threw my notebook in my backpack. “Sorry boys, time to bounce.”

“Later, bro.” Carter sent me half a wave.

I was about to walk out the door when Austin called out to me, “Hang in there, handsome,” his interpretation of Madison was spot-on. “Call me, okay?”

I laughed. “Keep it in your pants, Austin, Jesus.”

“I can’t, it’s too hard.”

I heard him let out a whoop and the last thing I saw before I went into the parking lot was the appalled look on an older couple’s faces, passing me through the door. “Sorry,” I said, “I’m sorry.”

My shopping excursion with Eliza started off okay. The nice part was that we got to drive through the unparalleled, yellow and orange autumn foliage. The not-nice part was that she gave me the cold shoulder most of the way to the mall, only speaking to ask why Carter wasn’t driving her, and to tell me I didn’t really have to come.