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tell her. Because then she’ll start asking me about her every day and she’ll end up all disappointed when Kristi and I don’t become best friends. Since that will never happen. Girls like Kristi don’t hang with girls like me. And my mom always makes me feel like my choice of friends is one big disappointment. It’s like, I’m never popular enough, stylish enough, or cool enough to please her.
    But I don’t care. I mean, I may look like my mom now, but I still think more like my dad.
    When the bell rings Kristi slams her book shut, grabs her things, and leaves the room without once looking at me.
    See? What did I tell you?

     
    At lunch I follow Mason, Jas, and some other guys from the film club to this grassy area behind the art building. And despite it being only January, the day has grown hot and bright. So I take off my sweatshirt, throw it on the ground, then sit on top of it and peer inside my lunch bag.
    Mason takes a bite of her Snickers bar, then lies back on the grass and closes her eyes, and Jas looks at me and goes, “So what’s going on after school?”
    “Um, I don’t know.” I shrug, biting into my turkey and avocado sandwich and refusing to read anything more into that since I’ve been down this path before. “Don’t we have detention?”
    “After that,” he says.
    “I have to work,” Mason says with her eyes still closed.
    “Where do you work?” I ask. I had no idea she had a job.
    “Urban Outfitters. It’s in Costa Mesa.”
    “That’s cool. Do you get a discount?”
    She nods, still not opening her eyes.
    “What about you?” Jas asks. “Do you want to come by and hang out? I can teach you to surf.”
    “Isn’t the water freezing?” I ask.
    “I’ll lend you a wet suit.” He smiles.
    “Okay.” I shrug, and take another bite of my sandwich, trying to act like I’m not really excited about that, even though I am.
    So we’re sitting in the sun and Mason’s dozing, and Jas is sketching, and the three guys from the film club are talking about that movie
Garden State,
which I make a mental note to rent, when Kristi and Company and a couple guys easily recognizable as jocks walk right by us and go, “Fucking stoners.”
    Then one of the jocks throws an orange at us that just misses Jas’s head. And then they all start laughing.
    And as they’re walking away Kristi’s looking back at me, but I turn to Jas and go, “What was that about?”
    “Class wars.” He shrugs, ignoring the orange sitting on the ground right next to him, and continuing with his drawing.
    “What do you mean?”
    “They hate us,” he says, shrugging.
    “But why? We weren’t bothering them.”
    “They hate us because we’re not like them, and we don’t want to be like them.”
    He continues sketching, but I just sit there staring at the orange, wondering if it’s really that simple.

Eight
    So after detention I go to Jas’s house. I called my mom earlier when I was sure she wouldn’t be home, left a message telling her not to pick me up ‘cause I was hanging with friends, then turned off my cell so she couldn’t call me back. I know that sounds sneaky, but it’s the only way to deal with her. I mean, she really has no boundaries.
    When we get to his house I’m all nervous to see that his dad is there, but Jas introduces us and his dad is really nice, and pretty much the exact opposite of my dad. Not that my dad isn’t really nice, because he is, but Jas’s dad is like a “cool dad.” He has brown hair with touches of gray that he wears kind of wavy and longish, and his face looks a lot like Jas’s except for the eye color. His are really dark brown, where Jas’s are more golden-bronze. And I’m not trying to be all poetic and creepy and love-struck, it’s just a fact that Jas’s eyes look like topaz.
    Anyway, his hair was all wet because he said he just came in from surfing! I can’t imagine my dad surfing. I mean, the few times we got him to lay on the beach at our old house