"You're so dramatic," Melissa had answered, tapping the brim of J's cap. Daniel was Melissa's latest crush, a quiet guy who played chess with the old men in Washington Square Park and who always had a Strand book bag over one shoulder. The place was littered with cigarette butts and graffiti every few days, some student dismantled the alarm, looking to sneak off and smoke. They were sharing a Diet Coke in the school's emergency stairwell.
Daniel's gonna be there," Melissa had whined to him earlier that day at school. The stairs were already sticky with spilled drinks, and reggaeton thumped through the door. He was going to this party for Melissa, though she knew he'd hate it, though she'd have friends to talk to and J would stand there in the corner like a plastic tree, sucking at a beer, steaming in his too-many shirts and humiliation. J could smell the hostility, the pretense, the utter fakeness of it all before they even climbed the last set of stairs. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at Thank you for your support of the author's rights. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property.
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