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pizza here. “Yeah, that’s my point. Eating with me isn’t going to help.”
    â€œDo I look worried?” I unwrapped a sandwich, bit halfway through the first triangle, and spoke with my mouth full. “I don’t know anybody here but you and figured you’re better than eating by myself.”
    He laughed once, a rasp of air that held no humor. “Yeah, well, that’s a first. I’ve been eating alone since seventh, no…sixth grade.”
    â€œThat really blows.”
    Another laugh, this time with sound. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He nibbled another piece of his pizza. “So, what’s up with you and Dean? Heard you broke up another fight.”
    Told ya so.
    Ouch. I winced. “Uh, you heard about that, huh? It wasn’t a fight. Just an argument. I tried to help. What the hell is his problem with you anyway?”
    Brandon shrugged. “I exist.”
    I finished the first sandwich and started on the second. “You never did anything to him?”
    Brandon made no response except for the shadow that passed over his face and watched me eat. “You always eat sandwiches in, like, four bites?”
    I shot him a look and waved my hand, encouraging him to answer my question.
    â€œFine. I stole his girlfriend once.”
    The hand about to tip the Snapple to my mouth froze, mid-flight. Brandon grinned. “Gotcha,” he said.
    I laughed and hated myself for believing Brandon couldn’t possibly win any girl from Jeff. People nearby stared at me for laughing. I glared back. Yeah. I’m laughing. I’m eating lunch with Brandon Dellerman, and I’m laughing. Assholes.
    â€œSeriously, what’s his problem?”
    Brandon sighed and stared down at his grease-stained paper plate. “We…uh…used to be friends. When we were little. Then Jeff’s mom died, and he’s…well, let’s just say he didn’t handle it well.”
    I tried to imagine it. My own mother’s death. Immediately, my chest tightened, and my lunch soured. Too much. Way too much. “I don’t think anybody could handle that well.”
    Brandon shrugged. “Yeah, well, he blames me. Like I killed her or something. He’s been pissed off at me ever since her funeral.”
    I angled my head, waited for him to confirm or deny. “You didn’t have anything to do with her—”
    Brandon’s eyes darted to mine, huge and hurt. “No way, man! She had, like, cancer or something.”
    I was totally lost now. Why would Jeff hold Brandon accountable for his mother’s natural death?
    Dick, do I need to remind you there are two sides to every story? Maybe you should ask Jeff what his problem is.
    Jeff’s an idiot. I don’t need his version.
    Yeah. You do.
    I wanted to ignore Kenny’s insistence but was too curious. Just when I was about to press Brandon for more details, I noticed the way his hands shook, so I quickly changed the subject. “So, what is there to do in this town? You don’t have a skate park. I checked.”
    â€œYou skateboard?”
    â€œNo. In-line.” In-line skating helped me maintain my ice-skating skills when I couldn’t get near a rink. I hadn’t been near a rink in years. “I play hockey.”
    Brandon nodded. “I’m not into sports. I just play a lot of video games.”
    At last. Common ground, neutral territory. We spent the last fifteen minutes of the lunch period exchanging tips on Assassin’s Creed , Call of Duty , and Madden NFL . I’d had to intimidate one brave soul who dared to throw something at Brandon as we made our way to the recycling bins. He immediately backed off and even apologized.
    Smart kid.
    When the bell rang and Brandon took off with a grin—a real one this time—I figured maybe whatever coolness I had by virtue of going hand to hand with Jeff (and living to tell about it) might rub off on him.
    Want a