I did not give Lex a goodnight kiss, even though it would have been funny as hell. Instead, I drove him home and dropped him at his apartment without so much as a peck on the cheek.

Classes started the following Tuesday at Rockville. I finally had a reserved parking spot so I could drive to school. There weren’t enough places, so they guaranteed spots for seniors like me and held a lottery with the remaining slots. I’d never been lucky enough to get one of those.

Nadine was also thrilled about the parking spot, which meant we didn’t have to count on the bus or rides from my mom. She fixed her lipstick in the vanity mirror before getting out of the car.

“So, what are your thoughts about the likelihood of Lex being in at least one of your classes?” she asked.

“Who knows.”

I’d find out soon enough.

I was hoping for a class with him. It would give me another chance to see what he was like and if he was good enough for my sister. People couldn’t put on an act all the time. The more time I could spend with him in a variety of environments, the better.

First hour, there was no Lex in sight. In fact, I didn’t see him until lunch. He spotted me and came over to sit with me and my friends.

“Hey. Anyone sitting here?” he asked as he made space for himself at the table.

“No. Feel free.”

I introduced him around the table. “Griffin, Michael, and Michael’s girlfriend Abby.”

Griffin smiled by way of greeting before smoothing back his blond hair and shaking his bangs out of his eyes.

“Welcome,” Michael said, taking his eyes off of Abby for just long enough to acknowledge Lex’s presence. He had grown out his black hair over the summer and had it pulled back in a ponytail.

Abby’s pixie cut was dyed bright green, giving her a bit of an elfish look. “Nice to meet you,” she said, nodding in Lex’s direction. She smiled at Lex briefly before turning her full attention back to Michael.

We’d known each other for years and were friends more out of habit than anything else. Griffin was big into hockey now, which had come out of nowhere. It took up nearly all of his time. Michael used to come over and play video games, but he and Abby were inseparable now and kind of sickening to spend time with.

“So, what’s your schedule?” I asked Lex, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Lex pulled out the piece of paper with his class list.

“We’ve got art together,” I said. “Fourth period.”

Lex smiled. “Cool.”

This started a whole round of people comparing which classes they had together.

“You’re taking French?” I asked Lex.

He nodded.

“I hope I can catch on. I mean, I took it in school back in the States, ninth through eleventh, but I have a feeling that everyone here is going to be way out of my league.”

“Well, you could always ask Theo for help,” Griffin said. “His dad only spoke French to him when he was growing up.”

“That was a million years ago,” I objected. “I’m hardly fluent anymore.”

“No? The teachers always praise your accent. And I’ve never known you to have to study for the tests,” Griffin said.

“Just keep him in mind if you start falling behind,” Abby chimed in.

Lex chuckled. “Don’t worry. I won’t press you for assistance you’re unwilling to give. Maybe I’ll be fine. Who knows?”

If the American school system was anything like I’d been led to believe, he would not be fine.

***

After lunch, we both headed for the art room. Lex sat next to me at a high wooden table stained with years of ink and paint. Tables were arranged in rows with a good mix of artsy types and people who had no desire to be there. One fine arts credit was required for graduation.

The teacher, Mr. Darcy, went over the syllabus and then showed a slideshow of previous students’ works, including paintings, sculptures, photography, and digital art. I will not be making anything that would be featured in future slideshows. If I were lucky, I’d be able to make something that would at least give me a passing grade. I needed the fine arts credit to graduate.

We were starting with still life. Each table had a collection of items that we were supposed to draw and shade with pencil. There was a short YouTube video on the course webpage that we could watch if we needed help. I definitely needed the help.

Our table had a handful of colored pencils in a metal canister, an orange, and a white silk flower. I think it was meant to be a plumeria. I wouldn’t have known, but they were my mom’s favorite.

I glanced over to see Lex sketching out the basic shapes. I wasn’t done watching the video yet.

Once it was over, I took my own pencil to the paper and tried to get things going, but the scale was all wrong. I wanted to measure things and do a grid, but that wasn’t the plan. I was supposed to eyeball things.

I grabbed one of the high-quality erasers from the box of materials and did away with my preliminary sketch. I sighed.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Lex said. “It was a fine start.”

“Thanks for saying so, but my ego isn’t that fragile. You can tell it to me straight. It was not a fine start.”

The rest of the class involved a lot more erasing on my part. Eventually, I decided it was easier to copy what Lex had on his paper than to try and go from the 3D model, although it seemed a lot like cheating. I didn’t exactly copy. I didn’t stare at his work too long. But I did use what he’d done to figure out the relative sizes of the objects.

I wondered if I’d made a mistake choosing the class. I could have been in choir. The fact that I was tone-deaf wouldn’t have made any difference if I didn’t sing. Who would have noticed but the people standing next to me? And I doubted they would have said anything.

I wondered if I would fail art if all of my stuff looked like crap. Maybe there would at least be some art appreciation or art history involved so I could redeem myself.

I referred back to the syllabus. It was unclear. It listed various art styles and concepts that we would be studying, but it didn’t mention what we’d actually be doing. The syllabus did mention a final capstone and a portfolio. That was good news. I was pretty sure that some writing would be involved. I could write about art. That could be my redemption.

I looked at my still life and compared it to Lex’s. My orange looked flat, my pencils were sticking out at the wrong angles, and the canister itself was clearly not at all the correct size compared to the other elements in the drawing. Still, it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever done. It had definitely benefited from my surreptitious glances at Lex’s work.

At the end of class, I slid my drawing carefully into the drawer with the other fourth-hour projects. Mr. Darcy said he’d be evaluating whatever we had completed and not to worry if things weren’t polished.

I had pencil dust all over my hands and bits of eraser on my pants. I cleaned my hands in the sink and brushed off my pants as best I could.

My last two classes of the day were French literature and English. I was technically considered fluent in French, although it didn’t seem that way to me. I had to consciously think about what I was trying to say. If I were really fluent, I wouldn't have to think about it at all.

My grandparents were both from Quebec. And my friends had been telling the truth; my dad had spoken only French to me while my mom had spoken only English, but then he’d left my mom, and I had kind of soured on the French language.

We were reading some French poetry to start off the year. It wasn’t my favorite thing, but it was fine as long as I didn’t need to write any kind of masterpiece of French poetry myself. Although I had a bad feeling that was in my future. Not the masterpiece but the writing of the poetry.

Griffin was in class with me. “So, what’s with the new kid?” he asked.

“Lex? Well, he’s new. Obviously. Just moved here from the U.S.”

“Where did you meet him? You knew him before the school year started?”

“Yeah. I met him at the university. His mom works there in my mom’s department.”

“Cool. And we like him?” Griffin asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking at Griffin suspiciously.

He shrugged. “Nothing. I just mean, it seems like we’re getting an addition to our lunch table unless you want us to chase him off. But that might be kind of difficult because he seems like a nice enough guy.”

“Yeah. He seems that way,” I said.

“What do you mean by that? Do you know something I don’t know?” Griffin looked confused.

“I think he wants to go out with Nadine.”

“Oh. Trouble city, then. Someone should warn that boy away from you before you do permanent damage.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Really? Nobody is good enough for Nadine. You’ve made this perfectly clear in the past, chasing off anyone who so much as looked at her.”

I frowned. “She was too young to date anyone. But eventually… I mean, she’s in tenth grade now. It's not like I expect her to become a nun or anything.”

“Really?” Griffin raised an eyebrow. “Because if it didn't involve being Catholic, I think you’d be all over that nun angle.”

I scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”

“If you say so. Hey, speak of the devil.”