Page 10 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

There’s a long pause before Lucas clears his throat. “I was wondering if you were okay?”

His tone is gentle, and it’s irrational, but I can feel a well of anger rising in me.

Of all the people who could (or should) have asked me whether I’m okay today—my mother, for example, who could have at least pretended to be worried about the fact that I was missing school to come home and help, or the nurse who might have offered me a graham cracker when she saw me looking longingly at Harper’s snack because I’d been really, stupidly hungry by then—why is Lucas the only person asking?

“Don’t I look okay?” My voice is cold, as if I’m daring him to walk away. I shouldn’t be taking it out on him—logically, I know that.

Lucas shakes his head, seemingly unbothered by my attitude. He answers me quite literally. “Your eyes are red-rimmed and puffy—” His eyes travel over my face, and I wonder how much of the past two days is on display. Lucas, however, gives the kindest description possible when he ends with, “You look tired.”

“Do I? Do I look tired? That’s awesome because I actually feel exhausted. Debilitated. Bankrupt of even the ability to pretend to give a shit.” I run my hand through my hair before remembering that it’s short now, and there’s very little I can do with my barely chin-length bob. I close my eyes tightly before continuing. There’s a not insignificant part of me that recognizes how ridiculous I’m being, and yet it doesn’t stop me from continuing. “You should try that line at parties. See how far it gets you, because ‘you look tired’ is absolutely what all the girls love to hear.”

He seems unfazed by my outburst. His voice remains calm and measured, soporific.

Ambien in human form.

“I never attend parties, and I’m not thinking of you as a girl.” He pauses when he sees me roll my eyes. “Perhaps that didn’t come out correctly.” He takes his glasses off and cleans them slowly, methodically. A balmy breeze blows gently at us while he collects himself. “I apologize. I’m usually more careful about taking my time before speaking, so I can choose my words more carefully. But you ran out of there so quickly I spoke without thinking.”

I think of all the times—some of them quite recent—I haven’t guarded my mouth. The way I single-handedly became the last straw to the festering heap that was my parents’ marriage. The way I just allowed myself to berate Lucas for daring to ask me if I was doing okay.

“It’s probably something I should try.” I take a deep breath. I hate admitting when I’m wrong. “Just now, for example, I should have paused before speaking.”

Okay, so it’s not an apology, but Lucas seems to accept it. In fact, the corners of his lips tug upward, an almost-smile. “Sometimes I write out what I’m going to text first, so I don’t screw up.”

“That sounds like far too much effort. If I ever committed to actually thinking before speaking? I’d at least make it fun. Translate everything into emojis and add an upside-down smiley face.”

His eyebrows furrow, and for a moment I’m worried he doesn’t understand that I’m trying to tease him, but then I see the twinkle in his eyes as he leans in. “I don’t think that would make my meaning clearer.”

“Likely not.” I look down at my phone. There are no messages, which is good news. If Harper had gotten worse, someone would’ve called.

“So.” Lucas says the word as though it’s a complete sentence. He rubs at his lower lip and holds up a finger in the universal Give me a moment sign. Finally, he begins again. “I’ll start again. What I meant to say is that I wasn’t thinking of you as a girl when I followed you out, even though you very obviously are, because I was trying to speak to you as a potential teammate. As such, I’m not intending to be nosy, but I am wondering if perhaps you’re burning out on classes or if there’s another reason for your slightly abnormal showing. Something we could address together.”

“Unless I’m a fluke.” I’m aiming for nonchalance, but as soon as the words leave my mouth I’m worried Lucas will hear the self-doubt, the underlying fear that Arjun and my father are correct: I’m a disappointment. I had potential but didn’t live up to it.

“You’re not a fluke.” Lucas huffs out a laugh as he says it, as though it’s a preposterous idea. And this, more than anything else, helps my brain finally catch up.

“Potential teammate?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You want the emotional, overreacting girl who tied for fifth?”

“You want the first-generation, community college transfer who everyone thinks got in through affirmative action?”

I suck in a breath because the way Lucas said that, quickly and without thinking, demonstrates it’s been on his mind.

He points to his glasses. “My vision is shit, but my hearing’s quite good. I know my résumé doesn’t measure up to the other potential teammates.”

“Past medals aren’t going to help you win.” And because that really doesn’t seem like enough, I allow myself to be completely truthful. “I used to attend the type of private schools some of these guys went to. It wouldn’t be surprising if some of them have been tutored and coached to within an inch of their life. The fact that you’re doing this well, completely on your own? Makes you more impressive.”

I’m hoping my words calm him, but instead, I can see Lucas doing the rapid-blink thing Aurora does when she thinks she’s getting emotional. “Thank you,” he tells me finally, clearing his throat, looking at me with real Boy Scout earnestness. “Given how well you’ve performed before today, you’ve earned some benefit of the doubt. As I’m a perfect example, we’re all emotional sometimes. But what’s more important to me is that your code is clean, your comments are good, and your solutions are simple.”

As usual, it’s impossible to tell with this guy, so I ask, “Simple good or simple bad?”

“Not unnecessarily complicated. Elegant.”

Not the yes and no Lucas could have answered with, but whatever.

“You’ve been looking at my code?”